#yelling screaming crying i meant to go to bed an Hour ago but that really threw me for a loop

[orcelito]

Experienced biiiig big plot twist things in tales of arise. I am fucking Reeling. That was so good but also so. So much. Oh my God...

[cheollipop]

love you goodbye

navi | taglist

pairing: park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.7k

tags: smut, angst, lots of angst, and even more angst

when seonghwa received a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he all but threw himself at it—except, he had to leave you behind. with his plane ticket sitting idly on his bedside, he bids you one final goodbye.

warnings: breakup sex, unprotected sex (boooo 👎🏼), creampie, lots of crying (a LOT of crying), lots of L bombs too bc they're still very much in love and life SUCKS, nicknames (hwa, pretty girl, sweet girl, darling, love, sweetheart)

A/N: I feel the need to issue a formal apology for this one. once I started it, I just couldn't stop —I originally planned it to be around 1k words... but, well. ehem. anyway. this was kind of inspired by 2521 too, soo... enjoy? haha.. ha.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew from the start that Seonghwa was hiding something from you, but you decided not to address it, not until he was ready to approach you on his own. He was never good at keeping secrets—a rush of nervous energy taking over him at the mere thought of it. He'd stutter when you'd question him, struggle to meet your eyes, fiddle with his thumbs—all telltale signs that he was a crumbling mess on the inside, guilt and anxiety eating at his very soul.

The signs started early this time, and yet, you pretended not to notice. How his mind would wander into unknown territory while you spoke about your day, his attentive eyes and curious nods replaced by a blank stare while he feigned engrossment. How he closed his laptop as soon as you stepped foot into the room, claiming he was suddenly tired and wanted to go to sleep when you questioned him. How he lied awake in bed hours after turning the lights off and kissing you goodnight, tossing and turning and exhaling deep sighs while he wrestled with his thoughts.

You remained patient, still set on waiting for him to take the first step. But when Seonghwa got into bed just before dawn reeking of cigarettes, the stench so strong you had to wash your sheets the next day, you couldn't sit still anymore. Especially so after seeing the ashtray on your balcony filled to the brim with the squashed buds—despite having emptied it two days ago—with two empty cigarette packets thrown haphazardly beside it on the small table.

"They offered me a job in Paris, and it's… it's a really good job," he'd answered when you finally confronted him. Once in a lifetime, he had described it. His dream job; something he had been working towards since before he'd met you. And so, who were you to ask him to stay? To ask him to let this opportunity go, simply to keep him for a little while longer? Before he began to hate you for it, before he realized that he shouldn't have listened to you—that he should have let you go when he had the chance.

So you told him to take it, pushing back the tears stinging at your eyes and plastering a smile onto your face—you could only hope it looked convincing. And yet, Seonghwa didn't look pleased. Quite the opposite, he began to cry, hot tears streaming down his face while he yelled and screamed at how unbelievable you were—letting him go so easily.

In spite of that, Seonghwa listened to you, accepting the offer. You knew you had to be supportive of his decision despite the burning in your chest when he stopped fighting against the idea of leaving you. Part of you hoped he would stay for you and still love you all the same, but it seemed like those two statements could never exist together.

You felt cruel for the satisfaction you felt at his hesitance while you sat down to book his plane ticket, locking in the decision the both of you dreaded. But still, you had to be supportive, even if that meant booking the ticket yourself because Seonghwa's hands wouldn't stop shaking. The breath of relief he exhaled after the confirmation screen loaded made your stomach stir, your dinner mixed with bile and pure despair inching their way up your system and collecting at the back of your throat. You swallowed them down and threw on your best smile, blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

--

"We should set a time to call. By the time I wake up, you would be at work, but if we-"

"Seonghwa," you interrupted, the lump in your throat growing bigger the more you heard him speak about the future.

You knew the second he told you about the job that you wouldn't be able to handle a long-distance relationship. You had been living together for over a year, dating for several more; having him more than ten meters away from you for longer than a day would be too absurd to comprehend. Seeing him less than three times a year? You'd be more convinced with a UFO outside your window.

"What? I promise I'll find the time, I just need to adjust my schedule and-" he continued and the throbbing in your chest almost made you double over in pain.

"Let's just end it all."

–

The slow ticking of the clock on the wall across from you, the suitcases packed full of Seonghwa's belongings, the insistent shuffling of bodies against the sheets—they all wrote themselves into the memory of his last day with you.

Seonghwa stilled above you, the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the moonlight where it peeked through the window. His eyes took in your expression, your features, and everything about you; all the while, his hands ran over the curves of your body, stopping momentarily to tweak at your nipples before wrapping around your waist.

"Hwa, please move," you whined and rolled your hips against him, his cock sheathed inside you.

Seonghwa slid a hand down to your hips, stilling their movements before leaning closer to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. He trailed kisses down to your jaw, then back up across your cheeks to your temple. His hips ground against yours, pressing against the gummy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"H-hwa, more," you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your nails digging into his biceps.

"Shh, there's no rush," he whispered against your skin, still placing kisses wherever he could.

You knew there was no rush. The way he made you fall apart on his tongue and fingers over and over again for what felt like hours was enough proof of that; but perhaps part of you was in a hurry to get this over with, this final goodbye that you'd been dreading for weeks. Seonghwa had looked at you with those big eyes, wet and glimmering as he spoke, "Can I have you? One last time. Please, let this be the last thing I ever ask of you." You had to pretend that his words did not shatter your heart, the pieces piercing through your insides every time he looked at you with anguish staining his features.

He's had you in every way possible, but this felt different. The slow grinding of his hips against yours, his cock heavy between your walls—still, he moved slowly, as if chasing his orgasm was the last of his concerns—his feathery touch raising goosebumps all over your skin. It was intimate in ways you never wished it to be, in ways that tore your heart out of your chest and left you bleeding out.

"How am I supposed to just let you go?" He breathed out against your neck while his hips continued their grinding, his pelvis brushing against your clit.

Your hands eased around his biceps, wrapping around him instead and pressing into his back. A bitter smile curled the corners of your lips. "I'm sure you'll find a pretty French lady as soon as you land-"

"But I want you," he pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, his own heavy with tears. "I need you, (Y/n)."

Your eyes burned as hot tears gathered along your waterline. "You need to let me go, Hwa," your voice shook, barely over a whisper.

He wasn't oblivious to the facade you had been hiding behind, concealing your hurt to support his decision so he wouldn't beat himself up for leaving you. Perhaps he willingly chose to ignore it, finding it easier to believe that he was the only one bearing an aching heart. It was only now that he became conscious of his selfishness—leaving you to deal with your sorrow and grief alone rather than being there for you. Rather than being there for each other.

Seonghwa knew he couldn't go back to fix his mistakes, so he resorted to focusing on making you feel good, watching as pleasure overtook your features with every roll of his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, and his lips slotted against yours. You reciprocated, pressing your lips against his, and at that, Seonghwa almost let out a sigh of relief. The kiss was soft, gentle, paired with the easy twist of tongues.

In the few hours he had left with you, he wanted to have you in every way he could think of. Seonghwa wanted everything about you to forever be engraved into his mind—from your features and how they reacted everytime his cock pressed against your favourite spot, to the blush on your cheeks when he told you he loved you.

Seonghwa drew his length halfway out of you, sinking it back into your clenching heat, feeling your legs twitch against his hips as you took him inch by inch between your pulsing walls.

"Hwa, h-hwa, please just- ah," your nails dug into the soft skin of his back and you rolled your hips to meet his slow thrusts.

He reveled in the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him, sucking him in down to the base and refusing to let him go. He sucked a bruise under your jaw—something to remember him by; as if you could ever forget.

"Sweet girl," he kissed you, a gentle brush over your lips. "I love you so much."

His words sent a jolt of pain through your chest, tears pooling in your eyes once again. "Seonghwa…"

He ignored the strain in your voice. "Let me take care of you." He kissed away the trail of tears running down your temple. "Will you let me love you one last time?"

You brought your hands to Seonghwa's face, wiping away the wetness staining his precious skin. You nodded, a broken sob escaping you while you spoke, "one last time."

You held each other, bodies flush while Seonghwa pounded his cock into you, grinding his hips into yours before going back to fucking you at a relentless pace.

His eyes never wavered off your face, and he denied every request to change positions—he wanted to see you, to take you in fully, to write you so accurately into his mind he could draw you with his eyes closed.

"Nghhh, Hwa. Fuck- I'm so close," you moaned against his mouth before he muffled your sweet melodies with his lips.

He pressed his hand onto the underside of your thigh, spreading you open and allowing him to stuff you full of his cock with every thrust. Your legs trembled under his touch, a breath away from coming undone.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so well, my love. Oh, my pretty girl, I'm going to miss you so much," he nuzzled his nose against yours while he molded your lips together, swallowing all your moans.

The look in his eyes—so full of love and grief—was the last thing you remembered before you tipped over the edge, your body seizing up under Seonghwa as pleasure rushed through you like a shockwave. His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles around it while he continued to pump his cock into you.

"Hah, J-just a little more, a-ahh," he blew heavy breaths into your open mouth, his tongue slipping out to lick over your top lip. "Where do you want me, sweetheart?"

"I-Inside, please. Fill me up, Hwa," you clawed at his back, eyes shut tightly as the pain from overstimulation mixed with pleasure, Seonghwa's cock punching against the spot that made your back arch.

His hips stuttered, managing a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling his seed inside you, warmth spreading through your abdomen as ribbons of white decorated your walls. A series of I love you's streaming from the both of you as you rode out your highs.

Something hot dropped onto your cheek. Opening your eyes, you were met with Seonghwa's own, bloodshot and glassy with overflowing tears dripping onto your skin. His broken sobs pierced through the stillness in the room, shaking his whole body as they ripped through his chest, and the pain squeezed at your heart so tightly you thought it might arrest.

You held him against your chest while he cried, his softening cock still stuffed inside you. Rubbing slow circles into his back, you waited until his breathing steadied before you spoke.

"It's the right thing to do, leaving," you muttered, afraid to speak any higher.

He sniffled, burying his face further into your chest. "I know," he whispered, voice nasally and hoarse.

A few seconds of silence passed before you spoke again, your bottom lip wobbling as you tried to get the words out.

"Hwa, please be happy-"

"(Y/n), don't."

"Just let me- p-please, I need to-" your voice broke, tears falling into his hair and wetting the soft strands.

Seonghwa remained quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue.

"T-take care of yourself, and make sure you're not s-skipping meals," you sniffled, pressing your lips to his temple as you spoke. "Make friends so you're not alone there, and go out with your coworkers, but don't get t-too drunk because I won't be there to take care of you-" You felt his shoulders shake against you, wetness dripping down your collarbones. "I won't ask you to forget about me, I don't want that either. But at least try to find love, Hwa. I-I want you to be happy," you placed kiss after kiss against the side of his face, carding your fingers through his hair. "Are you even listening?"

You smiled against his temple when he nodded, his voice rough from crying, broken with sobs.

"I'm going to m-miss you so much."

–

Seonghwa lied awake for hours after you had tucked yourself into his chest, breathing out a final I love you before succumbing to the grip of sleep.

He heard the early birds singing outside your window, and yet the joyful melody did nothing to ease the harrowing ache in his chest. He stayed there long enough for them to leave their nest, soaring across the sky in celebration of the new day. But Seonghwa stayed there, lying on his side with his arms secured around your figure, storing every last detail about you—every last blemish scattered across your skin—into his mind. For hours, he studied the angle at which your nose sloped, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers squeezed at his skin in your sleep, how the first rays of sunlight peeked through the open blinds to cast shadows over your features. He wondered how long it would be before he'd begin to forget certain things about you—the scent of your perfume, the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled, your favourite songs, your usual café order. He also wondered whether moving across the globe would even matter, if it made a difference, or would everything that made you so uniquely you be etched into his mind forever?

"Wake me up before you go," you'd told him before you fell asleep, but he couldn't bear having to say goodbye again. So he turned your alarms off, watching your peaceful expression and wondering what you were dreaming about. He hoped it was something nice, something other than him.

Quietly rolling his suitcases outside, Seonghwa walked back into your once shared bedroom, memories dripping off the painted walls. He crouched by your bedside, his eyes finding your face, resting calm and placid on your pillow. He pressed his lips against your forehead, keeping them there for a few seconds and inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

"I hope you get everything you've ever wanted, my love," he whispered against your skin, eyes prickling with tears. But I hope I never hear a thing about it, he added silently.

As Seonghwa closed the door behind him, his keys left behind on your kitchen island, he finally allowed reality to seep into his mind. He was leaving, and you were letting him go. He walked down the hallway while he tried to process the emotions rushing through him, his plane ticket sitting idly in his coat pocket.

There was no place for you and him in this world, not if the both of you wanted to be happy. But perhaps in another life, you would finally get your happy ending.

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[missed-connections-of-fear]

Right, uh-

Statement of Lynn Harring, Regarding a sequence of events leading her to well.. whatever all "this" is. Submitted via ask on Tumbler, May 8th 2023.

Statement begins.

It happened during summer vacation. I was 12, maybe 13, when I was just getting ready for bed. Mom was asleep in my parents' bedroom, and my dad was playing a game in his office next to my room.It was storming outside, so I fell asleep to the rain pretty quickly. I wasn't all that surprised when this beep noise woke me up, looked around my room, and saw the power went out. I didn't think much of it. I thought a powerline just went out and tried to fall back asleep.

That's when it started happening. When the tapping began. It went on for maybe 2 minutes before I just said,

"Hey! I'm trying to sleep here!"

I just meant it as a joke, something to maybe scare off an animal or maybe calm my growing nerves.

To my surprise, it actually stopped. I only heard the rain, my heartbeat, and occasional crack of thunder.

After a few minutes of peace, it got worse. The calm taps became frantic scratching, like a dog pawing at a door. It kept growing more insistent as my anxiety grew. I think I actually started crying when something started breathing hard and fast.

I kept yelling for someone, anyone to help, or atleast come to me, but no one did.

At that point I was screaming for it to stop, to leave, to go away, but it just became more and more disturbing.

It sounded like it was coming in through my wall and was getting closer to breaking in. My anxiety skyrocketed when I heard the mesh screen of my window ripping. I yelled for my dad to help, tears flooding my vision as it kept getting worse. I kept saying the same thing over and over

"Go away, leave me alone, stop-"

But nothing happened, all I knew for those moments in absolute darkness with this "creature" trying to get inside, was that no one was coming. That they couldn't hear me.

That I wasn't going to last much longer if I didn't move. I tried to run or grab something to throw, but I couldn't move, I was too focused on my own fear.

After what seemed like hours the power went back on, all my little lights came back, and it stopped. The tapping was gone, the scratching stopped, and the breathing was no longer heard.

I kept crying and didn't stop even when my mother burst in through my door, cursing at my dad about,

"How could you not hear her screaming bloody murder? Why didn't you help? Why weren't you there?"

...

After a few hours, I woke up around 11:30. I grabbed my dads bat, and went outside. I walked up to my bedroom window, and prepared to see my wall torn to splinters and threads. But I found nothing.

No footprints, no claw marks, no bits of fur or scales or whatever. Nothing, just my window as it had always been. The screen was intact, and there were no signs that anything happened.

It had been 12 years since then, and hadn't happened since. The power went out a few months ago, I didn't think anything of it, until I heard tapping outside my kids window.

Vex is a very heavy sleeper, to the point that some think she's dead till she rolls over, and Kaytlin was out with some friends. So I packed a bag with things I would need. Flashlights, knives, matches, and enough batteries to make a dent in a Vast Domain. Then I headed out. Whatever this creature was could stalk me all it wanted, but it would NOT harm my kids.

I didn't really have anything to follow, so I just walked along the street, keeping my eye out for anything weird. That's when it started. I heard the frantic breathing of some animal, and the tapping began. It kept getting louder as the streets grew darker, and some little voice inside me told me that it was the thing coming after me.

Thinking back on it, running wasn't the best idea, but it was all I could do. I needed to come up with a plan or buy some time, but all I could focus on was finding an advantage point and getting some distance.

In the end, whatever was practically on me caught up. I felt this pain. It was like a cold burn, the type you get when you hold ice for too long. I couldn't see anything, not even my hand, I had nothing. I tried to reach for my flashlight, but I couldn't feel it. I grabbed my knife like it would do something, but I had nothing to stab at. It was just darkness. I kept grabbing for something, but how was I supposed to hold a living shadow?

I felt something stab me. It hurt, and I must've blacked out.

I don't know what happened next. I just remember feeling numb all over, being lifted up. My hands and shirt felt wet, and my side was throbbing. I heard yelling, one filled with pure rage and one for me to hold on. I think Kaytlin got me home, while Vex scared off whatever this "thing" was, but I'm still not sure.

I think I woke up a few weeks later, I thought I was dead for a bit, in all honesty. It's probably not unheard of to come back from something like that alive, but odds weren't in my favor.

When I came to, well.. I was claimed.

I don't know if the thing was trying to make me an Avatar or if it wanted me dead. I'm still worried it might come back to finish the job. All I know is that I'm done running from these things. If it wants me dead, I'll take it with me myself.

Statement ends.

(Sorry to the people who live on my street for the power outage.. I'll try not to do it again-)

-Lynn

I’m sorry you went through that. Thanks for the statement though.

- Rose

[messers-moony]

Nothing Left | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Everything crashes within seconds and Sirius doesn’t know where to go. 

Everything went downhill so fucking fast. How was that even possible? Everything was perfectly fine a year ago, but it seems that within that year, everything had collapsed onto the helpless boy. It was like being beneath a crumbling concrete tower that fell with no warning. Like being slapped in the face unexpectedly. Like getting doused in freezing water on a Sunday morning. 

In retrospect, it sucked. 

Sirius Black would know first hand. His entire life had been a screw-up from the beginning. It started with his parents, who - at the start - loved him. But when he turned out to be the child they never wanted all that love had vanished. They tortured him, broke him piece by piece, they built up trauma that took years for him to express to his friends. It wasn’t until third year when they heard him crying alone in his four-poster bed and asked what was wrong. He could remember the comforting embrace James Potter had given him. 

Nevertheless, it never ended there. The summer going into his sixth year, Sirius decided it was enough after too many Cruciatus Curses and body binding curses; enough was enough. His hands were trembling after enduring just ten minutes of the torture curse, and it was a struggle, but he packed everything he could. His heart broke at inevitably leaving his little brother behind. He could only hope that Regulus would understand. 

It took a Knight Bus trip to the Potter residence in Godric’s Hollow. The sky could’ve resembled how Sirius felt. Back at Grimmauld Place Twelve, the sky was always cloudy and rainy. Godric’s Hollow allowed the sun to shine past the fluffy clouds, but tonight was different. The sky was dark and thick, black clouds covered the stars. Rain poured from them, and it pittered on the stone roads. Sirius was instantly drenched when he stepped off the Knight Bus. 

Hesitantly he made his way to the door, where he knocked softly. The house was two stories and was a relatively big family home - not bigger than Grimmauld Place - but an average family home. The house was a mixture of grey, dark purples, and brown. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ patched jumpers. Sirius could hear movement from behind the plum door, and it opened to reveal a familiar face. James Potter with his messy hair, hazel eyes, and long limbs. James was muscular, but he was also tall, not Remus tall but taller than Sirius. 

James didn’t speak and ushered him inside. The following morning at breakfast, Euphemia - Mrs. Potter - had given Sirius the excellent news of his new forever home. The Potters would never forget the way Sirius lit up and how a smile had taken over his face. Sirius didn’t remember being this happy except for when Regulus was born. 

But his forever home was not forever. 

In seventh year, James’ parents had died, and nobody had comforted Sirius except one person who attempted. James had Lily, and that was enough for him. Perhaps it was selfish to think that James should be comforting him. It was definitely selfish. Sirius was doing really good at hiding how he felt until he crumbled behind a tapestry near the dungeons. 

Sirius didn’t know if it was good or bad luck that Regulus - his prefect Slytherin brother - had found him behind that tapestry. Regulus had pulled back the fabric slowly with his wand lit. His face had softened at his older brother sobbing with his knees to his chest. Regulus allowed his wand light to extinguish before sitting in front of him in the same position, allowing their socks to touch at the tips. 

They sat there for a couple of minutes before Regulus moved closer, albeit hesitantly to sit beside Sirius. Regulus had his back against the concrete, and Sirius curled up onto him while the younger Black brother rubbed his older brother's back. Sirius cried harder and harder. It took an hour before he subdued to sniffles and whimpers, but Regulus took it as his time to speak. 

“I know they meant a lot to you,” Regulus stated, still rubbing his older brothers back, “And I don’t blame you for grieving them.”

Sirius sniffled, “I ought to be grateful for them, really.” Regulus released a sound that sounded like a chuckle, but it was so foreign to Sirius he couldn’t tell, “They kept you safe. Kept you away from mother and father. They gave you a home where you could finally be you.”

“And no matter how mad I want to be at them for taking you away from me,” Regulus admitted, “I just can’t be because they gave you everything you wanted, and I’ve never seen you happier in my life.”

Regulus didn’t stop talking, “You know… I- I found my own James Potter.”

Sirius looked up at Regulus with flushed cheeks, but his facial expression was baffled, and Regulus presented him with a small smile, “Okay, maybe she isn’t my ‘James Potter’ per se because I don’t see her as a sister but rather she’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s- What’s her name?” Sirius croaked; his throat was so raw from crying. 

“Y/n L/n.”

“A- A Gryffindor?”

Regulus made that sound again, “Yeah. A stupidly brave one too. Even worse.”

Sirius smiled, “I know her.”

“Don’t tell me she was one of your conquests.” Regulus grimaced, and Sirius chuckled, snuggling back into Regulus’ chest, “No, she wasn’t. It turns out she has the hots for the other Black brother.”

Regulus smiled, and they allowed the silence of the castle to consume them. It was dark in the corridor on the other side of the tapestry, and Regulus could see the faint moonlight peaking out. He could also imagine the stars glittering beautifully in the midnight sky. He could see the star Sirius shining brighter than ever, and he just wanted his brother to feel the same. 

“I plan to marry her.” Regulus said before he could stop the words from falling from his mouth.

“What happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother and father will never approve.”

Regulus scoffed, “I’m done with their bullshit and have been for quite a while.”

Sirius met his brother's eyes again, “I left right after you. It turns out there is no more heir to the Black family name.”

The older Black brother smiled brightly and tightened his grip on his younger brother. Regulus couldn’t remember feeling this warm since they were little boys running around the backyard. Sirius was practically on top of him, and that was okay. For now, everything seemed okay again. Maybe Euphemia and Fleamont were gone, but even in their deaths, they managed to benefit Sirius’ life. 

Now it all seemed fruitless. 

Only a couple of months later, Sirius and Regulus had gotten into a huge kerfuffle. It ended with screaming, raw throats, tears, and flushed cheeks. Sirius could remember how Regulus playfully mocked his and Remus’ relationship. He didn’t know exactly what happened, just that he was pouncing for his little brother, and Remus was holding him back. Sirius had yelled some very awful things that he couldn’t take back. 

She hadn’t done anything. She didn’t even know that an argument had happened. Y/n had been reading in the common room when the book was flung out of her hand, and she was pushed against the stone wall of the Gryffindor Tower. Y/n met eyes with stormy grey ones, not unlike her lovers, but these weren’t her lovers. These were his elder brother's eyes, and he had lifted her off the floor against the wall until James had pulled Sirius off her. 

Y/n hit the floor with a thud and repeatedly coughed, hands on her throat. James had stormed into the boy's dormitory with Sirius with him. She didn’t even understand what was happening not until she met up with Regulus in the prefect dorm, and he saw the marks on her neck. Sirius had taken it too far, and Regulus was furious. They were no longer on speaking terms. 

Now Sirius had someone entirely different to grieve. 

Sirius had felt like his heart hit the floor when he was forced to move out of James’ house with Lily due to Harry being born. Remus had moved away to take care of his sick mother and asked for privacy. The funds that had previously been in Sirius’ account had been squandered, and now he was paying the price. 

He had absolutely nowhere to go. Truthfully, there was one place he could go, but he didn’t think he’d ever be accepted there. He had said unforgivable things, but James had given him enough confidence that it would be okay. Reluctantly, Sirius Black took the Knight Bus to the suburbs in London. The community felt so modern and new. It was different then Godric’s Hollow which had been around for so many years that it began to weather and erode. 

The deja vu was hitting him like a brick. Their house was a mixture of grey, black, white, and maybe blue - Sirius couldn’t tell in the darkness if it was white or pale blue. Perhaps he’d find out tomorrow if he was even welcomed inside. Sighing and shivering, Sirius knocked on the door. He could hear little squeals of delight that sounded much like a child. He also heard talking, but he froze when the door opened. 

Regulus Black, at the age of twenty-two, looked good. His hair was to his jaw, and it was wavy at the ends, whereas Sirius’ was much more straight. His eyes had turned silver over the years. His cheeks looked much fuller, and he looked a lot better. Regulus was no longer looked underweight, but he was still slim and skinny. Black family genes, Sirius supposed. Sirius couldn’t meet his brother's eyes. 

“What do you want, Sirius.” 

His name falling from Regulus’ mouth instead of a nickname hurt more than he expected, “I had nowhere else to go…”

Regulus scoffed, “James finally kick you out, eh?”

“Yeah, he did.” Sirius sounded so distant, “Perhaps it was about time, and here I am, at your doorstep.”

“Come on, Sirius.” Regulus motioned for him to come in, and Sirius did. 

The house was much cozier inside. The floors were dark wood, almost black. The living room - on Sirius’ left - was a darker turquoise color with grey furniture. The dining room - on Sirius’ right - was a light grey. The furniture was a marble table, white wood chairs with cushions, and a beautiful light fixture. Regulus led him to the kitchen, which was straight ahead in the hallway. 

It was a beautiful mint green color with black and white furniture. The appliances were primarily black and the furniture primarily white, but regardless, it was beautiful. They had another table in the kitchen that was a grey wood instead of the shiny marble in the dining room but nevertheless screamed elegance. Sirius sat at one of the barstools at the L of the counter. Regulus slid him a cup of tea. 

“Your house is beautiful.” Sirius complimented, and Regulus placed the cup back into the saucer, “Thank you. My wife picked everything out for the most part. I either built it or painted it.” Regulus smiled. 

“Your wife?”

Regulus hummed, “Y/n Black. Ring any bells?”

Sirius swallowed, “Yeah.”

They both took a sip of tea, “I have two kids too. Both boys.”

“Two?!“ Sirius nearly spat out the liquid he had just taken a sip of. 

“Twins. Fraternal, thankfully.”

He placed the cup down, “What’re their names?“

“Perseus Regulus Black and Leo Alphard Black.”

“Perseus and Leo, huh?“

Regulus blushed, “It wasn’t my idea. It was Y/n’s.”

“I like them,” Regulus looked up at him, “The names. I’m sure they fit them too.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t long until footsteps began to echo coming down the steps. Y/n had grown up too. Her face was sharper and her curves more defined. If Sirius was honest, she didn’t look like she had kids at all. To be fair, he wasn’t really staring at Y/n but more so his brother. Regulus had a starstruck expression as his wife walked towards him. He had a dopey smile on his face and stars in his eyes. Regulus really loved her, and Sirius could tell, hell, anyone could. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks at seeing Sirius, “What’s he doing here?” 

Regulus placed an arm around her waist, “He came looking for a place to stay. While I was waiting for you, I decided to catch up with him for a little.”

Sirius looked guilty, “Ultimately, I’m leaving this decision up to you.” 

Y/n sighed and looked at both brothers. She thought of what he did back at Hogwarts. She thought of how Regulus had cried and ached for his brother, wishing for their relationship to be back the way it was. She thought of her two children who always asked about their Uncle Sirius, who was never around. 

“Sirius,” Y/n began, and Sirius held his breath, “Where will you go if I were to say no?”

Sirius looked at his lap, ��The streets.”

He couldn’t hear the footsteps that approached him until soft hands lifted his head where he met soft e/c eyes, “I’m willing to look past everything that happened at Hogwarts for the sake of my children. They deserve their uncle. But I need you to show me that I can trust you and that you won’t cause trouble.”

“I’ll do anything.” Sirius complied, and Regulus smirked, “Don’t say that. She’ll have you remodel something.”

“You’re an asshole.” Y/n whirled, and Regulus continued to smirk, “I told you to use magic, and you said we should do it the Muggle way.”

He shrugged, “We got good memories out of doing it the Muggle way.”

“If getting paint all over me counts as good memories, then sure.”

“It does.” Regulus smiled, “Your face was priceless.”

“Dickhead.” She muttered. 

Sirius grinned, “Well, Sirius. If Y/n lets you stay, then you’re welcome here. What I did back at Hogwarts was uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mocked you and Remus.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” Regulus countered solemnly, “Had I not done that; then we could’ve had a better relationship. For that, I’m sorry.”

Sirius stood up and hugged Regulus tight, “New beginnings?”

“New beginnings.” Regulus smiled. 

Regulus led Sirius up the wooden stairs up to the second story. It seemed to have had four bedrooms and two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom, one in the hallway, not including the one downstairs. On the end of the left side was a door leading to the master bedroom. On the right end was a cabinet and two doors across from one another. Then in the middle of the back was a door leading to another bedroom which Regulus had opened. 

The bedroom was spotless and beautiful. It was painted a grey with purple undertone with a queen-sized bed. Most of the furniture was white, and the bedding was black. Sirius had brought his trunk to its normal size and placed it at the end of the bed. Regulus smiled as Sirius looked around. 

“This is yours for as long as you want it.” Regulus stated softly snd Sirius had tears in his eyes, “Thank you.”

Sirius hugged his brother again, “I really mean it, thank you.”

“I love you, Sirius.” Regulus confessed, “You’ll always be my brother. The one who held me during thunderstorms. The one who sewed up my teddy bear when it had gotten ripped. The one who took the blame so I wouldn’t get punished.”

Sirius was gripping the back of his shirt tightly, “That stuff doesn’t just go away.”

They parted, and Regulus smiled, “Get some sleep. I’m sure you’d like to see the boys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to meet my nephews.” Sirius admitted smiling brightly. 

“Get some sleep, Siri.” 

“You too, Reggie.”

[ugh-yoongi]

what do you look like when you lie? | myg

↳ read on ao3 • feedback

        ❝ i grew a flower that can’t be bloomed            in a dream that can’t come true. ❞

» pairing: idol!yoongi x reader » genre: secret relationship/breakup!au, angst, very minor smut » rating: nc-17/explicit; minors dni » wordcount: 7.7k » warnings: this is pure angst and i am so sorry. infidelity, swearing, smut (nothing super explicit, but: oral sex [m. receiving], another bad handjob, very brief mentions of other sexual activities). heartbreak and the general demise of a relationship. unrequited love but not really? a canon dating scandal but make it angsty. » a/n: i’ve never written pure angst/an unhappy ending but my brain went haha wouldn’t it be so funny if we took yoongi’s dating scandal with suran and added a secret relationship and a whole lot of pain? and wouldn’t let it go so here we are. if you read this and want to yell at me my inbox is always open. thank you in advance and i’m sorry?

[now]

See, the thing is, it’s not really in your nature to nag.

Shit happens. Plans change, have always existed in this fluid state where sometimes there’s a rigid, unpermissive schedule and sometimes there’s spontaneity and flexibility and sometimes there’s nothing at all. You learned a long time ago to never really get your hopes up. Not in this business, anyway, and certainly not with Yoongi.

You’ve spent a lot of time convincing yourself that’s fine, that you’d rather have a Yoongi that broke plans and sometimes went days without responding to texts than no Yoongi at all.

It’s fine. You’ve always known exactly what you signed up for.

It’s just—

Sometimes the doubt creeps in. The disappointment. Has you boiling water for tea at nearly two-o’clock in the morning because Yoongi still hasn’t texted, hasn’t called, and he’d promised before he left that he’d let you know if things ran late. Has you rummaging through the fridge for the leftovers you’d packed up because the two of you were meant to have dinner together and it felt wrong to eat alone because a half hour late was okay, there’s always traffic and going from one place to another is always a spectacle, and you get it. Even an hour wasn’t bad. You could always make Yoongi a plate and cover it with foil and stick it in the microwave so it’s ready for him to heat up as soon as he comes by.

But he never showed so you’d stuck it in the fridge instead along with the rest of the leftovers. Took a shower because it always felt less embarrassing to cry there and tucked yourself into bed just after eight. You fell asleep watching reruns of some drama—one where the couple was in love and didn’t argue and fell asleep tangled together the way you and Yoongi used to.

Now it’s the middle of the night and your stomach is growling and the first thing you’d done was check your phone but, aside from an email from your credit card company and a text from your sister, it’d been empty.

So, really, what’s there to do but eat the leftovers meant for Yoongi and try not to be disappointed that he’s seven hours late because shit happens, plans change, you knew what you’d signed up for. You’re not going to nag.

You settle back into bed half an hour later, still no calls or texts, and for the first time in the entirety of your relationship, you don’t wait until you’re in the shower to cry.

[then]

You’ve been with Yoongi for a long time.

Nothing really fazes you. Not the culmination of years of hard work into being a household name. Not the fame or the money or the status. Not the hordes of screaming fans, the miles-long lines just to meet him. Not the social media accounts and fansites dedicated to him or the sold out concerts or the FaceTime calls in the middle of the night during worldwide tours.

They’re all just things you’ve learned to exist alongside of. Where there used to be You and Yoongi, there’s now You and Yoongi and Everything Else.

But sometimes it feels strange. Lopsided and imbalanced, because the world in which Yoongi operates isn’t unknown to you. You see the industry and the idols and the fans, but they don’t see you, don’t have a clue that you exist, that you’ve carved out space for all of it within your relationship. That you respect it, even when you’re sure you wouldn’t be granted the same respect in return.

And that’s fine, really. You’d just been a normal university student when you’d met him. Even if he hadn’t been forced to keep your relationship a secret, you’re not sure you would’ve wanted it to be public. Definitely not back then, when you were still an immature nineteen year old struggling to figure out who she was away from her family and her hometown. You know you wouldn’t have survived the constant scrutiny.

But now?

Now it’s hard. Harder, maybe, because you can’t honestly say it’s ever been easy. Yoongi’s not an easy person to coexist with—always too talented, too destined, too big. Normal people pale in comparison, and that’s what you are. You’d gotten your degree and found a job and an apartment in the heart of the city. You’d even gotten a cat. On weeknights you toe off your shoes at the door and cook a simple dinner and watch television. Sometimes you spend hours on the phone with your sister or meet up with your coworkers for drinks on Friday.

So, yeah, you’re normal. Not the type of person people would suspect Min Yoongi to be dating in secret. You’d always been told that worked in your favor, but you’d been smart enough to read between the lines. Who would ever think someone like you would be good enough to date someone like him? Who would spare you a second glance?

But it's been years. The two of you have had plenty of time to take something fragile and reinforce it, carve it from something indestructible, build upon an unshakeable foundation. You’ve had time to thicken your skin. Maybe no one else would spare you a second glance, but Yoongi does.

Which is why it doesn’t sting when you’re told, for the millionth time, to just wait another year. “The dating ban will be over by then,” someone tells you. There’s always a new face, another name to memorize. You gave up trying a long time ago. Most of them don’t last long. “One more year and you have the go-ahead to go public.”

What’s one more year when you’ve already spent four together? One last opportunity to live the last normal, uninterrupted year you’ll probably ever have? What’s one more year in the shadows when there’s a literal light at the end of the tunnel? No more hiding, no more secrets—just you and Yoongi and this life and love you’ve spent the last four years building.

Just you and Yoongi. The way it always should’ve been.

[now]

Yoongi has always been quiet.

It’s a comforting brand of quiet—one that doesn’t make you feel obligated to fill the silence, just wraps around you like an old friend. A warm embrace. It’s always been a quiet you felt safe in, a shelter from the chaos and demands that exist outside.

Yoongi has never been this quiet.

The kind of quiet where there’s nothing to say. Topics that have already been talked to death. A quiet that needles at your skin, makes you feel anxious and itchy, because there has to be something—some combination of words you can come up with to cure it, make it go away, make him talk to you.

But there isn’t.

And he doesn’t.

It’s not in your nature to nag. If Yoongi doesn’t want to talk, you’re not going to force him. You know how these things are, all the stress and sacrifice, and you’re not going to contribute to it. So you’re not going to nag. You’re not going to say anything at all. You’re just going to sit on the opposite end of the couch and watch as he occupies the space at the end, feet tucked under his lap, eyes glued to his phone, the contours of his face highlighted by blue light.

But you want to know.

You want to know about his day. How he’s feeling. If he’s finished that song he’s been working on—the one he sent you a snippet of a week back. You want to show him the funny picture Taehyung had sent you of Yeontan, the meme from Seokjin that you know you’ll have to explain because he won’t get it. You want to tell him about the reply-all gaffe Yeonjin from accounting had made, because he’d told you once that hearing little stories like that made him feel more normal, closer to earth.

Things between the two of you have never been awkward. Not even in the beginning. There’d been no awkward first date, no stilted conversations about hometowns and favorite things and dreams for the future. The two of you had never been reduced to small talk about the weather or reruns. Conversations had always been lively and colorful, even at three-o’clock in the morning when Yoongi was sleep-deprived and holed up in his studio. There’d always been something to talk about and there’d always been time made for you.

But it’s awkward now.

You cough quietly. More to break the silence than anything else. “So, how’s it going?” you ask, and you hate it. Hate how hesitant it sounds. Hate that it’s the best you can come up with after an hour of silence.

Part of you expects Yoongi to side-eye you, cock an eyebrow, playfully call you out on a terrible attempt at conversation. Instead, his fingers tap quickly across the screen of his phone and he hums. “Fine.”

“Oh,” you reply, because you’re not sure what else to say. “Okay. That’s good.”

You want to ask if he means he’s fine or if he’s talking about the song. He’d mentioned it to you weeks back—a different one than the one he’d sent you the snippet of. He’d been asked to produce something for someone else, and he’d told you with such a blinding smile that you couldn’t help but mirror it. Yoongi’s smile has always been contagious, but it didn’t need to be for you to return it. There were always so many reasons to smile for him. Because of him.

“Who did you say you were producing it for again?” you ask, even though you already know. Just want something to talk about that’ll get you an actual answer.

“Huh?” Eyes still locked on his phone.

You sigh. Pick at a strand of cat fur on your leggings. “The song? The one you told me about a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. Just some girl.”

Just some girl, you repeat. Yoongi’s been missing dinners and canceling dates and leaving texts on read for just some girl. You’ve barely seen him in weeks because he’s been so busy working with just some girl. And isn’t it just so weird, you think, that he can ignore your texts and calls when he’s gone but sit on his phone all night when you’re together. Hasn’t taken his eyes off of it once. Grabs it right away each time it vibrates against the arm of the couch. Isn’t it just so weird that he doesn’t do that for you?

There’s anger beginning to stir low in your belly, but it’s not in your nature to nag.

So you don’t.

[then]

The first time you meet Yoongi, it’s the middle of the night and the two of you are slumped into uncomfortable wooden armchairs in the emergency room.

His hoodie is so large you can barely tell there’s a living person half-asleep inside of it. He’s got it pulled over his knees, tucked to his chest, as he occupies the chair closest to the wall so he can lean his head against it. You’ve been seated across from him, vending machine coffee in hand, purse in your lap, probably too awake for how late it is.

He was already there when you’d arrived. A friend of your roommate had called you just after one, told you she’d drank too much and took an unfortunate spill down the stairs, probably needed to go to the hospital. They couldn’t afford the cab or the bill, so it’d been unanimously decided she was your problem to deal with. You’ve been bailing her out of trouble all semester, so you’d just sighed and changed out of your pajamas and checked the balance of your checking account.

“You look like you’re having a rough night,” are the first words you speak to him.

Yoongi jerks upright in the chair, skinny legs awkwardly unfolding from under his sweatshirt as they tumble back to the floor. He looks up at you through dark hair pinned against his forehead beneath a grey beanie. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” is his response.

Then you buy him a vending machine coffee of his own and the two of you talk until his roommate is discharged to him, and he admits he wants to return the favor sometime but he just spent the last of his money on his roommate’s bill. And you just smile at the blush that sits high on his cheeks and give him your number and tell him there’s no rush, but you don’t mind paying if it means you get to see him sooner.

Then Yoongi shoots you a smile that’s equal parts gums and teeth and, just like that, you know you’re a goner.

The first time Yoongi takes you on a date, it’s after weeks of texting and failed attempts to meet up. Yoongi’s been insistent on paying, which had meant two things: one, he had to come clean about his trainee status; and two, he had to keep pushing off the date until he was able to save enough money to purchase a single bubble tea.

(You’d pushed back on this, of course. Bubble tea was far more expensive than vending machine coffee, so it wasn’t an equal exchange, and Yoongi had also been very insistent on equality. But he was just as insistent on chivalry or whatever it was that made him unable to not pay on a first date, so you’d just set aside a few hundred won until the time came that he let you pay again.)

A trainee and a university student make for a pair with very little free time, so the two of you are supposed to meet up at a hole-in-the-wall tea shop in the middle of the day. Only for an hour, because you still have an evening class and Yoongi has something. But the two of you don’t even make it inside. Instead, you sit on a bench and talk until your throat is hoarse and your class is long since over and Yoongi’s phone is ringing nonstop. The money meant for your drink gets spent on the bus fare.

“One of these days I’m actually going to buy you that tea,” he jokes.

(And he does. He keeps his word and takes you out a few days later, already has a drink in his hand by the time you reach him. Has a smile on his face that, over time, you learn is reserved only for you. Wears that same smile when he holds your hand down by the river and asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes.

Because nothing else matters. Not your classes or his training or any of the hundreds of other commitments the two of you had made before. The time has come to trust your instincts, maybe be a little selfish, and if Yoongi wants you, is willing to take the risk, you would be a fool to say no.

So you don’t.

And things are good.)

The first time you meet the rest of the members is a raucous affair. Loud conversations and even louder laughter. Your cheeks are sore before you’ve even been there an hour.

You talk to Namjoon about what you’re studying at university. Promise to lend him a paperback you’d been required to write a paper on back in your freshman year that’d been relegated to a bottom shelf somewhere after he mentions wanting to read it. You talk to Jimin and Jungkook about Busan. Not your hometown, but you’d spent your summers there with your grandparents and it might as well have been. You talk to Hoseok about everything because he makes you feel like you can, and something about him says maybe he needs to talk, too. You talk to Taehyung about photography and Seokjin about video games.

When you get back to your dorm, half drunk on soju and the warmth of six new friends and a love that felt like a hot cup of tea, one that smelled like a spring breeze and fresh-cut flowers, you think maybe this is it, maybe this can be something real, and tuck that feeling into your pocket. Want to hold onto it a little longer before it inevitably gets tainted the way perfect things do.

The first time you and Yoongi are told to keep your relationship a secret, your hands are sweat-slick and trembling.

He’d called you in the middle of the night a few days before, voice tight with stress and panic, and told you they’d told him to break up with you. He’d be too busy. Too famous. Wouldn’t have time for a relationship, and why would he want one, anyway? He’s young. He’d get over it. There’d be plenty of time for relationships in the future once the dating bans expired. All idols had to do it, they’d said, and he was an idol now. Time to fall in line.

But he’d refused, so someone else’s problem you became.

You’d learned to read early. Long before you’d started school and long before your sister had. But as you stare down at the stack of paperwork, all the contracts and non-disclosure agreements and everything else, all the words seem to blend together. Nothing really makes sense.

Then Yoongi squeezes your hand, the one not holding the pen meant to sign your life away, and you think this is worth it, Yoongi is worth it, everything will be fine, and put ink to paper.

[now]

You can feel it in the way he kisses you.

That he’s different.

Feels different, moves different, tastes different. Slots his mouth to the right when he’d always gone to the left. Licks into your mouth all rushed, doesn’t take his time. Fingers don’t grip your hips, don’t tangle in your hair, don’t do anything. They just—

“Yoongi,” you say, words barely a whisper, “Yoongi, touch me. Please.”

And you hate the way it sounds. Like you’re begging and desperate. Yoongi had always given you his affection so freely, never made you ask, always had a sixth sense for what you needed, and the words taste rancid on your tongue. You don’t know what’s going on, what’s changed, and maybe it doesn’t really matter. You just want things to go back to the way they were. You want Yoongi’s hands on you, want his bruises sucked into your skin, want his taste in your mouth. You want him to kiss you with his eyes closed. You want, you want, you want—

You want so many impossible things.

But it’s not in your nature to nag. So, instead, you give him what you wish he’d give you. Hands in his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp; lips wet and insistent at the column of his throat, blooming color everywhere they touch, teeth nipping at the skin there; eyes closed because you know you know you know you won’t be able to stomach what you’ll find if you open them.

(You know you won’t see all the love you hold for him reflected back at you. You just know.)

Maybe you move desperately. Drop to your knees too quickly, tug too frantically at his belt. Maybe you don’t know how things between the two of you have gotten so off track, but this—you know this. Muscle memory. If nothing else, you can do this, you can remind him, maybe he’ll remember that he loves you as he fucks your mouth. Maybe that fondness will return to his gaze as he looks down at you when he comes down your throat, breaths stuttered, moans fractured. Maybe he’ll kiss praise into your skin as he guides you beneath him, call you his good girl, his his his, anything to be his, and maybe it’ll feel like he loves you when he buries his cock deep instead of a convenience fuck between two people that are meant to be in love instead of wandering aimlessly through this purgatory.

Yeah, maybe.

But—

Your hand wraps around his cock and bile rises in your throat. For the first time, you wonder if you’ll taste someone else when you put your mouth on him. (You think you will.) So you don’t, you just spit into your hand and give him a half-assed handjob and you pretend like you’re not crying the same way you know he’s pretending he’s enjoying it and not thinking about someone else.

When it’s over, you go to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash cold water on your face to wash away the tear tracks on your cheeks. You don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. No combination of words that’ll bring him back to you. You’ve never had to force Yoongi to love you, and it’s not in your nature to nag.

At least he has enough sense to look guilty. When he opens his mouth, you expect him to tell you it’s over, he loves you but he’s just not in love anymore, all of this has just gotten out of hand, too difficult. But instead, he says, “Do you want me to eat you out or something?”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, because it was never really a question to begin with.

You change out of your work clothes. Pull an oversized t-shirt over your head—one of Yoongi’s, one that still smells like him no matter how many times you’ve worn and washed it—and climb into bed. Sometimes Yoongi stays, but you know this time he won’t, so you turn away from him, face the wall, and your eyes burn as you say, “I love you, Yoongi,” in a way that sounds like a prayer. Like you’re trying to embed the words into his skin so he can never forget them.

Then you pray to god or anyone else who might be listening that you fall asleep before he says it back, because at least if you’re asleep you won’t be able to hear the lie in his voice.

You want impossible things.

[then]

The first time Yoongi tells you he loves you is in the middle of an empty street.

Nearly three-o’clock in the morning. Middle of winter. Snowflakes have caught in your hair, your eyelashes, on the lapels of your coat. Every breath a puff of smoke between you—visible, tangible proof that you’re right here in this moment, Yoongi looking at you like you hold the answers to every question he’s ever had. Looking at you with so much adoration that it feels overwhelming. Feels like you could pry open his ribcage and pluck it out, weave it into something that’ll keep you warm.

“What?” you ask, your soft laugh echoing off the empty streets. It all makes you feel a bit drunk—on Yoongi and this moment and everything between the two of you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yoongi smiles and it feels like a supernova. Some deep, endless thing you can get lost in. You wonder if you already have, if it’d be so bad. “What, I can’t look at you?” he jokes. Smiles even wider, digs just a little deeper into all the crevices of your body. “Maybe I just like looking at my girl.”

Yoongi is so, so beautiful. “I didn’t say that,” you lob back. You can’t tell if you’re blushing or if your cheeks are windburnt. “You’re looking at me all funny.”

He takes one, two, three steps before he catches up with you. Winds an arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest. Presses quick, funny kisses all over your face. Forehead, temples, cheeks, lips, your chin. He swallows your laughter with his mouth as he kisses you breathless, and you think I love you, I am in love with you and it feels like I’m drowning, like I’m holding onto something I couldn’t possibly carry, but I love you I love you I love you.

And you know Yoongi loves you, that you’ll be safe if you say it, but Yoongi’s life is already hectic and stressful enough. You don’t want to burden him with a girlfriend who loves him when he isn't there yet. Don’t want to put that kind of pressure on him when his shoulders are already so heavy. But you think he should know, he should know he’s loved, that it’s unconditional and unwavering and endless.

So you open your mouth to say it, look at the streetlights glittering in his eyes and take a deep breath, but Yoongi speaks first. “Do you know how lucky I am?” he says. And you think of course I know, because you do. He’s so talented, so kind and good and full of this endless, enviable patience, so beautiful. He’s going to make it. He’s going to be so blinding.

“Of course I know,” you answer, stick your frozen hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “You’re Min Yoongi.”

A bashful smile. “No, not because I’m Min Yoongi. Because I have you, silly girl. And somehow you’ve agreed to go on this insane journey with me. And you understand me and you respect me and you trust me.” He presses his forehead to yours, then, and you think you’ll remember the scent of his shampoo for the rest of your life. “And you love me,” he whispers, almost as if he can’t believe it—as if saying it out loud will make it untrue, like his recognition will take all the love you held for him and crumble it up, throw it away.

“Oh.” It comes out breathy, wonderstruck.

But Yoongi just smiles wider. “It’s okay,” he says, and you wonder if he’s going to let you down easy. He leans down, warm breath ghosting along the shell of your ear. “Do you know what makes me luckiest, though? Luckier than all that other stuff?” A hand moves to your face. Two fingers tuck beneath your chin so you have no choice but to look up at him. “I’m lucky because I have you to love.”

You feel winded, like someone has punched all the oxygen from your lungs. “Yoongi,” you choke out.

“I love you.” A slow, lazy smile creeps onto his face. “I’m so fucking in love with you it makes my chest ache sometimes.”

You feel like you’re in a daze. In the middle of some dream where you’ve met someone as brilliant and wonderful as Min Yoongi and you love him and he loves you, too. “That’s because you got hit by that car,” you say.

Yoongi just laughs—the raspy one you love so much—and softly flicks you on the forehead. “No, it’s because I have so much love stored in there. And it’s all for you.”

And you just—you don’t know what to say, still hung up on the fact that Yoongi loves you. Is in love with you, which just seems so crazy. Yoongi shines so, so bright, and you just can’t wrap your mind around someone like that loving you.

“I love you,” you say, because even if you’re teetering on disbelief, even if Yoongi already knows, it still needs to be said. The words need to be out, need to exist in the world instead of in your head so you can say them over and over, so Yoongi never doubts that he’s loved. “I just… this is crazy, I can’t—”

Yoongi cuts you off. Presses his lips to yours and kisses all the doubt away. Presses promises into your mouth like flowers between yellowed book pages. Takes all his love and presses it into you because he knows it’ll be safe there, that you’ll take care of it. You won’t be reckless with his heart.

How could you, when you’ve already gotten lucky enough to hold it?

[now]

Three things happen in very quick succession.

First, Namjoon sends you a text that says hey, do you have a second to talk? and you say sure, what’s up? because it’s two-thirty on a Sunday and you have nothing to do besides laundry. When you answer his call, his voice is calm and it’s almost believable, but over the years you’ve come to know Namjoon almost as well as you know Yoongi. You know his tells, and you know he wouldn’t call unless it’s—

“Something’s about to come out,” he says. There’s a panic woven into his words that fills you with dread. “Something’s about to come out and I need you to stay off the internet until you talk to him.”

All the words blur together into something unintelligible. “What?” you ask. “Joon, what are you talking about? Talk to who?”

“Yoongi,” he answers, and now you’re in such a panic that it takes you a second to figure out who Yoongi even is, let alone how fucked everything’s become in the forty-six seconds that’ve transpired since you answered the phone. “It’s—fuck, it’s… it’s not good, okay? But it’s not something you should find out from the internet. It needs to come from him. And I told him—I fucking. I fucking told him this would happen. I told him not to do this—”

“Namjoon, what the fuck is going on?” you manage to choke out, but the words are wet, too jumbled. Your hands won’t stop shaking and all you can think is water, I need water, but your legs are shaking, too. Can’t carry your weight the few feet to the kitchen.

Namjoon sighs. “He’s on his way, okay? Just—just listen to me, please. Promise me.”

“I don’t even know what I’m promising.” You want it to come out forceful but you just sound broken because you know what’s coming. You know Namjoon wouldn’t have bothered to call for anything less.

So you agree just to get him off the phone. To give yourself time to breathe before the weight of your universe collapses in on you. You wonder if you’ll be one of those people that sits in silence—a sitting duck. You wonder if he’ll be kind when he tells you, if he’ll spare you the details. You wonder how long it’ll take for the pain to go away. If you’ll ever be able to look at Yoongi and not feel wounded. If you’ll ever love anyone else the way you love him.

The second thing that happens is an onslaught of texts and calls and the churning of your stomach. Whatever Namjoon said was going to happen just has.

And it’s not like many people know about you and Yoongi, so at least you’ll be spared of the pity. Won’t have to awkwardly explain to a whole lot of people why you’re not together anymore. Just your sister and the rest of the group and whoever in the company is on a need-to-know basis.

Your sister will be on the next train. She’s always been a little too overprotective, a little too smothering, but you’re going to need it now. Maybe you’ll let her hug you and brush your hair and you won’t groan, won’t swat her hand away and tell her you’re not a kid anymore. Maybe you’ll let her smoosh your cheeks together as she smiles and says maybe not, but you’ll always be my baby sister. Maybe it’ll be nice to be someone else’s always, because you’re not Yoongi’s always anymore.

Jimin and Taehyung will send you something long and flowery and so, so soft. They’ll tell you they’re sorry, how you don’t deserve it, how they’ll always be there for you. They love you. They want to hug you, wrap you up and hold you tight, protect you from all that’s still bad in the world. Jungkook won’t text at all; you’ll be surprised if he doesn’t show up by the end of the night with bags of snacks and a warm hug. Jin and Hoseok—they’ll be short and sweet. I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Namjoon has already done enough.

He’s given you time.

Not that you do much with it. Five years from now, you’re going to think back on this moment and say the first time I got my heart broken, I put on the weather because I couldn’t stomach listening to anything else. I got a glass of water and didn’t drink it. I pet my cat and buried my face in her fur and kissed the top of her head. I sat there and waited, and I felt proud that I didn’t cry.

Then Yoongi knocks on your door.

And the last thing that happens is your world falls apart.

You almost don’t answer it. Don’t want to hear the excuses and the admissions and hear all about your faults. You don’t want to acknowledge the end of your relationship at all, because not only does it feel like grief is sitting in your stomach like an anchor, you’re embarrassed. You should’ve been the one to leave, not the one being left. No one else is going to know Yoongi’s made a fool of you, but you have to make peace with having known what you knew and doing nothing about it. Shame had sat beside you and became your friend.

Whatever you’d expected to see isn’t what you get.

“Baby,” Yoongi chokes out. His eyes are rimmed red, cheeks stained with tears. He’s wrapped in a hoodie just like he’d been the first time you met him, and you want to slap him. Want to rip it off his body, scold him for taunting you, but you can barely breathe, immobilized by the sight of the man you love so deeply it aches, the one who���s about to let you go. “Baby, I fucked up.”

You open the door just wide enough for him to slip inside, anguish right on his heels. Usually he’d have you pressed against it by now, lips at your jaw, words so, so pretty as he told you how much he’d missed you, couldn’t want to get his hands on you. Now there’s silence. There’s Yoongi choking back sobs, wrapping his arms around himself, your name a broken whimper on his tongue. So small. So withdrawn into himself, desperate to disappear. As if he could undo all the mistakes and all the hurt if he could just be smaller.

There’d been so many nights you saw Yoongi like this. Those impossibly dark days where everything inside him hurt, everything felt so permanently hopeless. A reversion. So many nights where you’d just hold him as he cried, fingers threading through his hair like silk, lips pressed to his eyelids to kiss the tears away, pressed to the knots in his spine as your hands smoothed them over, worked at the muscle beneath them. He looks like that now—the small, sad boy you’d comforted so many times, guided back to shore every time he started to drift too far away.

It makes you want to hate him. Just a little bit. Makes you wish you could, but Yoongi had burrowed so far beneath your skin. Made a home in the marrow of your bones, the sinew. He’ll never leave, and it’s this that has you blinking back tears of your own.

Because maybe it’s over for him, for the two of you, but it’ll never truly be over for you.

And that’s the cruelty of it all, isn’t it? This is something you’re going to carry with you forever. A fault in the foundation of who you are and will become. You’re going to wear your first heartbreak like a scar—a pearlescent, jagged line across your heart that’ll say someone had taken refuge here once, but they’re not here anymore.

“You should’ve told me,” is all you can think to say. There’s so much anger to sort through. So much hurt and betrayal and love you’re not sure what to do with. “Yoongi—fuck, Yoongi, you could’ve fucking told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

A humorless laugh. “What good does sorry do me, huh? It’s so easy to be sorry after the fact.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t,” you snap, all heat. A wounded animal lashing out. “You don’t get to fucking say that anymore.” So Yoongi doesn’t say anything at all, just shrinks himself further, trying to get out of your orbit. “Why’d you even come here? To make yourself feel better?”

That catches his attention. “What? No—”

But you’re barely listening, running on pure adrenaline and instinct. If Yoongi’s only here for salvation, you’re not all that interested in indulging him. “God,” you wail, grabbing wildly at the roots of your hair. Just enough sting to distract you. “You’ve had—you’ve had months to tell me. You’ve been making a fool out of me for months.” Not enough of a distraction. Tears blur your vision, hands begin to tremble, the world starts feeling like it’s closing in. “How could you? How fucking dare you? I—I love you, how could you do this, Yoongi, why would you—”

Then you’re sobbing into his chest, his arms wrapped around you so tight you think you might suffocate. Hope you will so you’re spared from the aftermath of this. You won’t have to navigate the heartbreak and grief, you can just blink out of existence.

These are arms you’ve always found so much comfort in. A place you’ve always been safe; your second home. You hate that you still find comfort here. It’d be so much easier to go scorched earth, take the last frays of this love that persists between the two of you and burn it to the ground. You’ve always loved Yoongi unconditionally, endlessly. Now you wish you’d never loved him at all.

Because you know how it feels to be loved by him. How it feels to carve out a space in his heart and lay claim to it. How it feels to be on the receiving end of that smile; to be the cause of it. You know how it feels to be his confidante, his best friend, the first person he calls when he’s excited, when he’s sad. You know how it feels to lay beneath him, lay with his front pressed to your back, legs tangled. You know how it feels when he starts laughing and can’t stop, how his shoulders shake next to you, rattling your bones as he clutches at his stomach. You know how it feels to mean everything to him; to have him mean everything to you.

How can anyone expect you to just let all that go?

Yoongi holds you as you cry. As both of your sobs turn to unsteady exhales. As the clock ticks down to zero and there’s nothing left to say. Yoongi’s sorry but it can’t change what’s already been done. You wish it could. You wish you lived in a world with magic, with impure love, with people who were perfect and never made mistakes.

“Do you love her?” you ask once you’re numb. Whatever Yoongi’s answer is, it can’t hurt you right now. It will later once your daze wears off and you return to your body, but right now it won’t hurt you and you need to know. You need to know what he’s thrown you away for: if it’s love or if it’s nothing, and you think both of them will hurt the same.

Yoongi’s fingers fist at the fabric against your back. “No,” he answers, and no—no, they don’t hurt the same. Maybe you could accept love, even if he’d found it with someone else, because Yoongi deserves to be so, so loved, but you’re not sure you can accept this.

“Okay.” You suck in a breath, try to stop feeling like you’re underwater. “Okay, that’s—that’s not really what I expected you to say. I don’t—this doesn’t make sense, but okay, Yoongi, it’s okay.”

Yoongi presses a desperate, searing kiss to your lips that feels like finality. There’s no time to savor it, to memorize the feel of his mouth against yours, to taste the salt still lingering on his skin. There’s no goodbye, just an unspoken acknowledgment that this is it, and when Yoongi leaves you just shut the door behind him and twist the lock. If he stands outside with his fist raised to knock so he can come back in and fix this—if he gets to the end of the hall and turns around, hoping to find you staring back—you don’t want to know.

And later—

Later, you find your closure in the one place Namjoon had warned you not to look.

(You’ve been kept a secret long enough to know how to read between meticulously crafted lines. You know exactly how far a company has to be pushed before they’d do something like this; wouldn’t waste their time on something not worth the time or effort, the speculation and backlash. You know exactly how blurred lines have to become for something like this to happen, because they were lines you’d been warned not to cross so many fucking times.)

The dating rumors of Suga and Suran are not true. They have only worked on music production together.

(You wonder how it feels to be real.)

[then]

There’s a look Yoongi always adorns whenever he gets excited.

His lips pucker a bit, face goes a bit bashful; cheeks and tips of his ears flush pink. Anyone who doesn’t really know him would think he’s embarrassed, but not only do you know better, one of your favorite things about him has always been how palpable that excitement is, the way he practically vibrates with it.

And he’s always tried to stay humble. Never brags, never talks himself up. Always leaves that job to someone else, and it’s been one you’re more than happy to take on. (You’d joked once that you’d been Employee of the Month every month for four straight years, and Yoongi had laughed and kissed you on the nose and told you you were the best employee he’d ever have. No one would ever do a better job.)

Arms wrap around your waist from behind. Lips kiss your hair. Yoongi, as mysterious as he always tries—and fails—to be, has never been all that subtle. You don’t need to turn around to know he has something he wants to tell you. Four years the two of you had been together, but you’d figured out all his tells within a few months. He’s a creature of habit, after all.

“Are you gonna spill, or do you want me to guess?” you joke. Yoongi’s chest rumbles with laughter as he helps you stir a pot on the stove.

“How do you always know?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re really not as cool and mysterious as you think you are. I don’t know how you’ve managed to fool millions of people.”

“Ouch. You don’t think I’m cool?”

You reach behind your back to swat at him. “I think you’re the coolest person I know, but in a generally-cool kind of way. You’re not mysterious-bad-boy-cool. Just, like—an impressive kind of cool. Like best-friend’s-older-brother-cool.”

“Baby, I have no idea what that means.”

You snort. “It means you should tell me why you’re so excited so I have an excuse to kiss you silly and tell you how proud I am of you.”

“You really need an excuse to do that?” He cocks an eyebrow, but relents quickly after you threaten to whack him with the wooden spoon in your hand. “Okay, okay!” he squeals, because you do it, the spoon still wet with stew, and you know it doesn’t matter because Yoongi will just give you the sweatshirt anyway. He’ll pretend to leave it in your hamper simply because it needed to be washed, but all the times he’d done that before he never asked for them back.

(Yeah, Yoongi isn’t subtle at all.)

He tucks your head beneath his chin and grips your waist tighter, sways back and forth with you in a dance only he knows the steps to. “I—I got asked to produce a song. Not for the group,” he hurries to explain, “for someone else. And I—I know I’ve been asked to do that before, it’s just. Every time it feels different. More important. Because it means I must be doing something right, you know? People don’t look at me and just see a rapper in an idol group, they see me as an actual musician, a producer—someone worthy of touching their art.”

You turn in his arms. Squish his cheeks and smile so wide it almost hurts. “That’s because you are, you silly man. You’re the most talented person I’ve ever met, and that’s going to be the best song in the world because it was produced by you.”

You laugh as he tries to smile, cheeks still pressed between your hands. “Going for another Employee of the Month, huh?” When you nod, Yoongi kisses your forehead and gets deadly serious. “I love you,” he breathes. “I love you so much.”

And you just smile, because you love him, too.

[now]

You wonder when you got so masochistic.

That’s the only word you can use to describe what you’re doing to yourself. You know you shouldn’t. You should just turn off the television and go to bed. Maybe drink a glass of wine to take the edge off, run a warm bath. Send a frantic text to your sister or Namjoon. Anything but this.

Except you can’t.

You already know how this is going to end, but it hurts all the same as you watch Yoongi’s name light up the screen. You watch him stand up to accept his award, smile blinding as the rest of his members jump up alongside him, pull him into crushing hugs to share in his celebration. You see that familiar bashful smile as he begins the short walk to the stage to make a speech.

Producer of the Year—

Suga—

For the song that’d stolen him away from you.

That’s going to be the best song in the world because it was produced by you.

You long for the days you only used to cry in the shower.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

I'm not Mad

A/n: Hello, My 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I'm back after 5 days? Of being away. Also, I know this pic is from "Defending Jacob" but this was the best I could find. (Totally not because I'm lazy to find another one.)

Chris Evans x Boyfriend reader

Warnings: passionate smut?, no kinks, and fluff

Requested from @nighthunter241

They requested: Male reader is at work while his boyfriend Chris is at the infinity war premiere (their relationship is a secret, so he did not go). While at work he hears some of the other workers talking about how Chris accidentally announced him having a boyfriend. After some days have passed, Chris goes back home and talks to the male reader apologizing about how he exposed the relationship (thinking the male reader was angry with him) But the male reader is relieved that he does not have to be a secret anymore. They celebrate by having a dinner date which ends with the two having a steamy moment (smut).

M/n: Male name

Word count: 2534

If you like what I write, check out my Masterlist.

Hope you enjoy it! Sorry if it's bad! Sorry for any errors that are found.

TWO BIG ANNOUNCEMENTS AT THE END!

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DISCLAIMER: I MEAN NO OFFENSE, DISRESPECT, OR HARM TO ANY OF THESE CELEBRITIES! THIS IS JUST FICTION.

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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You were currently at work just doing serving the masses. Everything was going amazing but early a Karen decided to make a fuss.

Flashback

You were just minding your own business, helping some employees until out of the corner of your eyes. You see a woman, who looked like she was in her mid-30s, with blonde hair pushed to the side with some strands on the other side, and wearing sunglasses.

She was yelling and screaming at the poor woman. It looked like the young lady was going to start crying. She was causing a scene, everyone was just pretending like they weren't seeing or hearing anything. Only giving a few glances and some were recording.

"How about you go back to Mexico!" now that's where you cross the line. Well, you crossed the line a long time ago.

"Ma'am, that is highly offensive, and I suggest you leave immediately!" you butted in.

"NO! I won't leave until I have the manager!" She yelled at you, even though you told her to leave in a calm voice.

"I. Am. The. Manager!" You said in a slow tone. Your left eye was twitching and the smile you were giving was twitching. You were this close to losing it.

"Well, sir, this damn immigrant fucked up my food!" you just looked at her like "really?" She was mad over that?! "Okay, ma'am, you could've just ask instead of throwing an adult tantrum."

Her face looked like she was offended. Then she went back to yelling and screaming. "Listen here! I gonna have to ask you to leave or I'm calling the police."

She just screams and screams, annoying the over customers who have to sit through this whole problem. Then she yelled, "He hit me! Stop hitting me!" She said that while she reaching behind the counter to hit ME.

"Y'all are seeing this right? I'm not evening hitting you! My hands are right here!" You just lost but thankfully the police arrived and escorted her out.

"Finally that woman is gone."

(Don't be a Karen, if you don't know what a Karen is then look it up.)

Flashback over.

But other than that, your day was going amazing. Especially since your boyfriend, the famous, Chris Evans was coming back home after the Infinity War premiere. Yes, you were dating the one and one Chris Evans.

You were still at work on your break until you overhear one of your employees. "Really?" "Yeah, apparently Chris Evans has a boyfriend!" two girls were chatting and looking at the other's phone. "Lucky to whoever is dating him! He is literally daddy material."

"Yeah, but they must be cute together! I wonder who it could be?" the two girls began to squeal. They didn't know that their own boss was dating Chris.

Now, you didn't know that he leaked your guy's relationship but you're not mad at him. You're actually relieved and happy that it's not a secret anymore.

All you could do was wait for his return.

============================

Time Skip (2 days)

============================

Chris was driving his way to yours and his place. Yes, you and he live together. Many thoughts were running through his head. 'What if he leaves me? What if he's mad at me? Will he still be with me?'

Chris just couldn't stop thinking all about the negative thoughts. He knew you wanted to keep your guy's relationship a secret but he accidentally let it slip.

Flashback.

"So, Chris- do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend? Or are you in a relationship?" someone asked.

Chris wasn't thinking properly and accidentally said, "Yes, I do have a boyfriend-" Chris stopped himself but it was too late. His eyes widen but tried to play it off.

Everyone was now talking. It was at that moment Chris knew, he fucked up.

Flashback over.

Chris finally arrived at yours and his place. He approached the door and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

You were sitting on the couch just minding your business watching videos on YouTube until the doorbell rings.

'Chris is here!' you yelled in your mind excited to see your boyfriend. He finally arrived from the Infinity War Premiere.

Once you opened the door, you were immediately engulfed by two large hands and the sounds of Chris crying? He held you tight until he spoke.

"Please don't leave me M/n! I didn't mean to say that! I know you wanted to keep it a secret but- I just-..." Chris said crying his face off. You looked at him confused until you remembered what he meant.

"Please don't break up with me! I'll take you out to dinn-" You cut him off there.

"I'm not mad Chris. I'm actually glad that you told everyone." You said in a soft voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck calming him down a little.

"So, you're not mad?" you shake your head no. "Can I still take you out?" you rolled eyes and smiled, "Whatever makes you happy."

You and Chris just ended up cuddling on the couch for the next 4 hours. Chris was scheduling your guy's date at someplace. You hoped it wasn't any of those places cause their food is awful and tastes horrible.

You were cuddling into Chris's warm muscular arm as it was wrapped around your waist. "Hey, baby?" You hear him call out to you. "Yes?" You responded rubbing your head against his muscular arms. Chris smiled at you before speaking.

"Well... I found this place- and don't worry it ain't fancy- So, how about we go?" Chris said scratching the back of his head. You smiled at your nervous boyfriend. "Yes, you lughead."

"Alright, let's get ready." you nodded your head as you got up from your position to get ready. "Oh, and try to be cautious about the paparazzi. Everyone now knows about our relationship."

You nodded your head understanding what he meant. the Paparazzi can be a pain in the ass. bombarding celebrities with cameras and annoying the shit out of them.

After about 30 minutes you both were ready for dinner. Chris also had something else in store for you when got home.

============================

Time skip (end of your dinner date)

============================

Everything was going amazing besides the bombardment of the paparazzi, questioning us about our relationship.

Once we got home, Chris said he had one more thing to show you. You wondered what it could be.

"So babe, I know you're not mad about me telling everyone about our relationship but I want to give you the ultimate apology," Chris said while snaking his arm around you.

"Oh? And what's this ultimate apology?" You replied knowing what he meant.

(Disclaimer: I'm not good with writing passionate smut. Message me if this is good.)

"Oh, you'll see baby," Chris said before latching his lips against yours. You kissed him back while wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

You opened your mouth to allow him to have access to your wet cavern. Your tongues fought for dominance with Chris winning. He explored every nook and cranny of your mouth.

Chris pulled back."How about we take this to the room?" "Yes!" Chris smirked before gesturing for you to jump. "Jump baby."

You complied wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Chris grabbed your plump ass for more support. But also because he just wanted to touch it.

He carried you to the room still making out. Once there, he sat on the bed with it sinking under his weight. Chris began to move his hands up and down your sides as the kiss was getting more intense.

(Chris is sitting down, with you on his lap.)

You pulled back with a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. You both took deep breaths before you slowly began to undress Chris. Chris did the same.

"You're so hot." You said, kissing down his neck leaving love bites. Chris groaned as a response. You got up and removed pants and boxers hopped back onto Chris's lap.

Your hard cock slapped your stomach as you hopped back onto his lap. This time it was Chris's turn to leave marks on your smooth skin. "You're so soft..." Chris said with his face buried in your neck leaving his love bites on you.

You whine as Chris pulled back before latching his lips back onto you. You pushed him back onto the bed and began to lick his erected bubs.

You moved your hand across his chiseled abs and massage his left pec. You traced your tongue down to his abs, leaving behind a trail of slick down to his lower part.

You have gotten to one of the best parts of Chris's body. His crotch area. You removed Chris's pants to reveal a large bulge. You licked your lips as you removed his underwear.

Chris's cock slapped his stomach after you removed it. You held his 8-inch cock in your hand. You could feel the heat radiant from it and thick heavy meat.

You gave your lips one final lick before stuffing your mouth with his meaty cock. Chris lost his breath and threw his head back as you took him whole.

Chris liked your wet and warm mouth. He felt like he was going to cum right then and there but he held himself back. You lick his sides and swirling your tongue around his fat tip.

You could taste his delicious and creamy pre-cum. You could feel his cock pulse and twitch meaning that he was close.

"Now, Chris, don't cum now or that will ruin the fun! We haven't even gotten to the best part!" You exclaimed pulling away from his cock. Chris just chuckled, "Sorry, your mouth was just too good."

You smiled at Chris before laying down with your ass pointing towards him. Chris immediately got the gesture and approached you.

Chris wet three fingers with his saliva and traced them around your tight muscle ring. You whimpered as you felt one go in. The first finger was to find your sweet spot.

After moving it around for about a minute you felt shocked run through your veins. "That's where it is," Chris muttered to himself. Then you felt a second finger go in.

Chris was stretching you out properly cause he doesn't want to hurt you. Your small moans were muffled by the pillow you were holding tightly.

Chris noticed, "Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?" Chris asked. "N-no... I'm fine. Please... continue." Chris nodded his head before pulling his fingers out.

Chris then placed his cock on one of your cheeks. "Tell me if it hurts. Okay? I don't want to hurt you." You nodded your head in response. This was it, you finally losing your virginity.

You could feel the tip move past the ring as it pushed deeper then it stopped. "Is it you hurting?" You shake your head no. "N-no... it doesn't hurt. C-continue."

Chris nodded his head before pushing deeper into you. His cock was now fully into you, it was touching your sweet spot. Your cock was twitching at the pleasure even though he didn't start thrusting.

He let you adjust yourself to his large size. He's going to wait until your truly prepared. After about 5 minutes you felt ready.

"You... c-can start to move now." You said whimpering and whining a little. Chris nodded and began to thrust. He started off by giving small thrusts but he already was kissing your sweet spot making you moan.

Chris gave more small thrust, waiting for him to go faster. "P-please go faster..." You begged Chris wanting to feel him more. "Are you sure, I don't-"

"Stop it. I can take it... probably" You muttered the last part. Chris sighed and did what you want. His thrusts then began to go faster. His cock repeatedly began to hit your sweet spot.

Your plump ass was tightening around him as he pushed deeper into your warm love hole. "F-feels... so... g-good." You now know what it's like to have sex after your friends talked about how they had sex.

Your cock began to twitch wanting to release a hard load. You could feel Chris's cock pulse and twitch inside. "I'm... c-close." "Me too," Chris responded, throwing his head back as you tighten around him.

"Let's cum together." You nodded your head. Chris began to go faster, hitting your sweet spot over and over. And you began to tighten around him as his thrusts began to go faster.

The room was getting foggier. Sounds of skin slapping, moaning, and groaning were heard too. You and Chris reached the end.

"I'M CUMMING!" You both yelled at the same time. Your cock busted all over the sheets while you could feel Chris's hot cum fill you up. Painting your wet walls with his paint.

Chris pulled out to see some of his cum pouring out and your twitching and doing a grabbing motion. You never felt so empty before.

You two sat there regaining your breath. Chris laid down and soon you followed. You got up from your position and cuddled into Chris's strong arms.

You laid your head onto his pecs while his arm moved to enclose. It was comfortable laying on him. "I love you, Chris." You said kissing him forehead.

"I love you too, M/n. I'm glad you're not mad at me." Chris replied, planting a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep.

You both laid there snuggling into each other's hold.

THE END

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ANNOUNCEMENT 1: Request is now opened and I will be changing the capacity of requests. 3 requests to 8 requests.

ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I would like to say, thank you! Thank you to all of you. I reached 200 followers, I thought I would never reach this. I guess this could be a 200 follower special?

A/n: Again thank you all. Bye my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓 see you next time

[britishassistant]

What happens if a new villain comes to town and starts tearing shit up? Like a new rival shows up, falls in love with yuu, and kidnaps them before enacting a huge take over the city scheme, will the NRC and RSA finally come together for the same goal? Or would it lead to chaotic in-fighting in their individual attempts to rescue the reporter and save the city/stop this jerk face from showing them up only for yuu to break out just so they can knock them all upside the head?

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“It’s so simple, love.” The villain coos, one hand cupping Yuu’s chin gently to tilt their face up, “Just accept my proposal, and we won’t need to have any nasty accidents where you and the tarmac down there have a...terminal disagreement.”

Yuu glances down at the drop from where they’ve been “tied” to the top of the skyscraper by the metal beams that the supervillain bent around their body like they were rubber. They think they can see a flock of pigeons flapping by below them. “That’s your idea of a threat? Really? Because I’ve heard worse over breakfast. Sorry, but I really don’t think we have the right chemistry to accept marriage to the likes of you.”

The villain pouts, leaning against the tip of the building as if they were a pair of people chatting on the streets far below, and not one hapless captive tied to an antenna and their captor floating with nary a second thought in midair. “Oh c’mon now love. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be—you know that I could do far better with your Daddy’s little league than any of those second-rate bozos crowding around you.”

The reporter’s gaze sharpens, the corner of their mouth curling up in a snarl. “Don’t. Refer to them. Like that. They’re each seven times the supervillain you are, at least. Besides, I’d rather be turned into pancake mix on the pavement than do anything that could advance that man’s little projects.”

The villain tuts, coiffed hair ruffled by the breeze as he leans in far closer than Yuu is comfortable with. “Don’t play hard to get, love. So you’ve got Daddy issues, who doesn’t? It’s no reason to get in the way of progress. Maybe you’ll change your mind if I show you exactly what I can offer...”

Yuu recoils as the villain’s tongue forces its way into their mouth when their lips collide with all the force of a car crash, an invasive writhing thing that makes them gag at how far it pushes in as the villain hums greedily at their taste.

And one that the reporter swiftly brings their teeth down on.

Hard.

“FUCK! Ugh—you foul little bitch!!”

The backhand jars the reporter’s skull even as they brace for it, cutting the inside of their mouth and leaving them worried that if they try spitting out the blood gathering there, they’ll lose a tooth along with it.

The villain huffs, one hand carding through his ruffled hair. His tongue is already whole and unblemished, the last indents of their teeth healing as the reporter watches. “I didn’t want to do this, you know. I would’ve gladly taken you to the altar, and had you screaming in our wedding bed. I could’ve made you happy, if you’d just do what you’re told.”

Yuu sneers. “Frankly, I can’t imagine anything more boring.”

They take cold comfort in the fury that burns in the supervillain’s eyes at that.

“Fine. Fine.” The villain floats away, his eyes glowing that same bright red that melted through the wall to Yuu’s bedroom when they were first taken. “I was prepared to do this the nice way. I wanted to do this the nice way. But if you’re going to be such a little bitch about it, then I can always rely on the old fashioned method of succession.”

The laser beams swipe through the block of abandoned offices four stories below where the reporter is tied up.

The top of the building wavers, then begins to crumble forwards.

The villain says something else, probably something mocking and challenging them to get out of this mess because that’s the kind of cliche line that’s always used here, but Yuu can’t hear him over the whistle of the wind in their ears and the scream torn from their throat as they plummet.

They try frantically tug their arms free as their legs are pulled upwards by gravity, try their damndest to squirm free, but it’s no use, they’re not The Prefect right now, don’t even have the fedora on them, they’re Yuu, just Yuu, just helpless reporter Yuu, who can’t break steel beams with their pathetic powerless normal person strength, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, oh Great Seven, they’re going to die—!

“KING'S ROAR!!!”

There’s a discombobulating moment of freefall as the metal and concrete around them disintegrates into sand.

Then a strong, wiry arm loops around their waist and they’re pinned to a carpet as their rapid descent gradually slows to a stop in midair.

“Need a lift?” They can’t see Snake Charmer’s eyebrows through the mask, but they get the feeling one of them is raised in a wry fashion as he smirks at them.

The reporter lets out a hysterical, shaky laugh that only narrowly escapes becoming a sob, trembling hands seizing onto the two supervillains like they’re lifelines. “Wh-what took y-you so long? Did you ge-get held up in traffic?”

King grumbles, flicking their temple gently as Water Boy laughs gleefully from where he’s steering the carpet. “You could show a little more gratitude, herbivore. Do you know how hard it was to evade all the goody-two-shoes on the way here to save your ass?”

Yuu’s about to reply, when they catch a movement above them out of the corner of their eye.

“INCOMING!!”

Water Boy jerks the flying carpet to the side just in time for the villain to plunge past them fist-first, close enough to see his teeth bared in a furious snarl.

“DRIVE!!” Snake Charmer screams at his lieutenant above the rushing wind as the villain rises back up to try his luck again. Water Boy presses the corners of the carpet forwards and they go into a rollercoaster dive that makes the reporter’s stomach roil in protest.

King unleashes his powers on the two buildings behind them, disintegrating the foundations in hopes that the tonnes of concrete and rebar would be enough to slow the flying brick chasing them. The villain just bursts through the obstacles with nary a broken sweat, and speeds up to the point where Water Boy has to turn the carpet upside down so they don’t get knocked out of the sky.

“Where the fuck is that computer junkie?!?” King yells at Snake Charmer as they draw dangerously close to the road below. “He was supposed to be here hours ago!!”

“How am I supposed to know?!” They can hear Snake Charmer’s heartbeat hammer in his chest from where he’s pinning them to the vehicle in the absence of a seatbelt. “It was the conman who was meant to give him the si—”

Yuu can barely scream a warning in time as the villain looms behind Leona’s head, eyes glowing red and ready.

A rush of flying metal harpies collide with the bastard’s face, effectively pinning him in midair as he struggles to destroy the thousands-strong swarm that obstructs his path to them.

“OPEN FIRE!!” Comes Hermes’ high-pitched cry as a blue beam shoots past them at the center of the robotic maelstrom.

A pair of red lasers rocket out to meet it, almost seeming as though it could push Ortho’s assault back—!

A white-hot streak of lightening descends from the formerly clear sky to where the villain was pinned, disrupting the red eye lasers and allowing Hermes’ beam to make contact.

There’s a hideous scream and the stench of burnt meat.

“We’re coming in too fast!!” Water Boy yells, tugging on the carpet’s tassels until they’re almost vertical. “Ja—I, I don’t know if we’ll slow down in time!!”

Yuu barely hears the curses the other two occupants spit, lunging to try and cover as much of them as they can with their body. Even if they crash, if Yuu can just absorb most of the shock of the landing—!

Small pinpricks of pain latch onto their scalp, their pajamas, the carpet and supervillains beneath them, hundreds of small beating appendages smacking them all in the face as the carpet’s rapid descent slows incrementally.

“Oh boys~?”

Four sets of strong hands seize the front of the carpet, their owners grunting as they attempt to force the carpet’s stop through sheer force. Of course, the continued existence of Newton’s Third Law combined with the reporter’s precarious shielding position means that though the carpet experiences sudden stop, Yuu keeps going at the same high speed that will ensure serious injury once they hit the tarmac.

Or it would do, if they didn’t collide with a solid chest and waiting pair of arms first.

The reporter finds themselves cradled in a nearly crushing grip, their catcher muttering “child of man, child of man,” into the top of their head and a warm thumb swipes over the rapidly darkening bruise on their cheek. The wind picks up around them alarmingly, whipping into a gale.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Yuu reaches up to pat Tsunotaro’s head soothingly. “See? Just a few scrapes and a little scare. Give me an ice pack and a shower and I’ll be right as rain.”

Tsunotaro doesn’t look very convinced, but at least the wind drops to more of a strong breeze.

“Oi, let ‘em down, you dumb lizard.” King growls behind the reporter, the rings on his tail clattering as it swishes irritably. “We did all the work of saving them, you don’t get to take the rewards.”

Tsunotaro clutches them closer, getting that stubborn look in his eyes that makes Yuu want to groan in exasperation. “No.”

“Why you—!”

“Now, now children, the world works in mysterious ways.” Batman beams. “I’ve always found destiny draws those it finds most suitable together.”

The reporter rolls their eyes as King snarls in response to that remark and Snake Charmer mutters, “I didn’t know ‘destiny’ was what you called interfering old fools.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Snake Charmer climbs off the carpet and straightens his headscarf. “What’s next?”

There’s a crash as the mass of robots pinning the singed villain about three blocks down the street begins to shift, however unwillingly.

“‘Kay, the ‘save the princess’ team barely cleared the parameters for their part of the mission.” Charon’s floating tablet drifts forward, the sounds of frantic tapping on a keyboard almost drowning out his voice. “Now it’s time for the ‘aggro’ and ‘debuff’ teams to move in, Tsuntaro-sshi, Royal-sshi.”

“Understood. I’ll leave the coordinating of the others to you, Charon.” Royal Flush looks up and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the tall fae. “Well? Are you coming?”

Yuu could almost swear they hear a small grumble as Tsunotaro finally lets them down out of his grasp. He runs his thumb over their injured cheek one last time. “Sebek, Silver. Defend the reporter as you would me.”

“Yes, Tsunotaro-sama!” The two of them chorus.

Royal Flush shakes his head, then reaches out and squeezes Yuu’s hand once. “If anything happens, Three of Clovers and Howl-san will get you somewhere safe. But this shouldn’t take long.”

“Oi, don’t presume to give orders to my minion, Flush.” King growls, inserting himself bodily between the two of them. His mouth curls up in a smirk as he places a proprietary hand on top of their head. “Besides, I’ll be here, won’t I?”

Royal Flush and Tsunotaro narrow their eyes at him, but their attention is claimed by the sound of metal crashing down the street as the villain shrugs off the rubble, the burns on his arms and face healing rapidly as they watch. His eyes flicker over their motley group, before settling on Yuu with laser-precision.

It’s only the arrow that flies into his shoulder, combined with a second lightening bolt striking him from the blue that keeps that metaphor from becoming literal.

Yuu chokes a little at the pressure on their pajama shirt collar as they’re dragged out of the line of fire. From where they’re crouched behind a car, they can see Tsunotaro and Hermes throwing almost everything he’s got as the bastard, while Royal tries to close the distance without ending up attacked himself. They also catch a glimpse of who they think is Leviathan silently gliding closer through the alleys on the far side of the street.

But the villain just won’t stop getting back up. Despite the fact that anyone sane would’ve given up the moment the green flames were broken out, he keeps coming, no matter how many times he gets thrown back.

And he’s clearly getting closer to the reporter he so desperately wants to kill.

“Now what?” Yuu asks, barely able to hear themselves think over the worried growl rumbling from Jack’s chest.

Charon’s muttering to himself as more of his robots fly by overhead. “Need to pin down the rate of regen, if we can get that and surpass it so the ‘debuff’ team can do their thing before the second wave gets here, but what is it?”

The reporter blinks. Well, taking into account the insult, and the backhand...

“He was able to heal his tongue about...four, maybe five seconds after I’d bitten through it? That’s only a rough estimate though, it may’ve been shorter.” They murmur.

The area around them goes very quiet.

“B-bitten through...?” Water Boy asks, hand coming up to his own mouth with a wince.

Yuu scowls. “That creep put it in my mouth when I did not ask him to. Ugh, I would’ve gone for his balls too, but the metal didn’t let me lift my legs that far.”

They huff for a moment at the unfairness of it. Then, “King, stop grinning at me like that.”

“Like what herbivore?” His tone is the picture of innocence, even if the way he’s eying them is most decidedly not.

Snake Charmer ‘accidentally’ kicks him in the shin as the sound of frantic typing erupts from the tablet again. “Setting the Erinyes to follow up on Ortho’s and Tsunotaro-sshi’s attacks within a three point five second time frame...fwe he he he, let’s see how that mob likes this!”

With the clack of what sounds like an enter key, the robots above them begin divebombing the villain in sequence, deliberately targeting the parts of him injured by Tsunotaro and Hermes’ blows.

One of them sacrifices itself in a kamikaze dive that leaves a bleeding scratch on his arm.

The villain roars, the force of his fury almost knocking them over even with how far away their little group is crouched, turning the lasers on every robot within his line of sight.

Of course, this means he stops paying attention to the three supervillains who have been steadily making their way towards him.

“FAIREST ONE OF ALL!”

“IT’S A DEAL!”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

The powers hit the villain one after another, his lasers sputtering out with a pained scream. The scratch on his arm doesn’t start healing. Neither does the gash he gets across his face when Poison Queen roundhouse kicks him away with those stilettos of his.

“Was that it?” Leviathan says, his careless facade somewhat ruined by the fact that he wobbles as he begins to levitate. “I must confess I don’t understand what all the tr-trouble was.”

A low whistle by their ear makes Yuu jump. “The bosses can be scary when they wanna be. Remind me never to piss off those three at once.”

The reporter look up to see Ace and Floyd standing behind them. “Ace, wha—where have you been?!”

Floyd giggles and Ace shoots them an evil grin as they chorus, “Sending out party invites~”

Yuu blinks and tries to puzzle out this cryptic phrase, but their attention is swiftly drawn back to the scene of the battle at the sound of manic, unhinged laughter.

“You think you’ve won? You think something like this will stop me?!” The villain cackles, eyes wild and beginning to grow red again despite the way his body tenses and the collar around his neck starts to buckle. “You think that second-rate half-hearted hacks like you can stop someone like me?!? I am your superior!! You all will bend the knee once I snap that ungrateful little bitch’s neck and take my rightful place as head of the League!!! I’ll decimate every last one of those pathetic, moronic heroes who pollute this city like a fungus!! And then, oh , and then I’ll make every last one of you who thought they could get away with this pitiable attempt to stop me—”

“Us? Here to stop you?” Poison Queen tilts his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re supervillains.”

“Stopping the likes of you.” Leviathan proclaims triumphantly, “Is their job.”

The villain stops.

The villain turns.

Over half the top heroes of the Royal Sword Association lead here by the minions meet his gaze.

“Hello.” Niko Niko Neko says with a wide grin.

Yuu isn’t close enough to hear if the villain whimpers, but they almost wish they were.

Almost.

[thetravelerwrites]

Errol (Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Break-ups, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Secretly In Love, Angst, Sex, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Dom/Sub, Ovipositor, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Babies, Eggs, Egg Laying Words: 7887

A commission for @anjhope1​​! After catching her fiance cheating, the reader breaks up with him and goes home miserable. The ex-fiance's brother, Errol, arrives on his brother's order to get his things from her apartment, but Errol is more interested in taking care of the reader and making sure she's okay. It leads to some confusing feelings and a confession. Please reblog leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

You’d had your suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until you got the message on social media from a girl he’d dated and dumped who had photographic proof of it that you finally had to face the truth.

Your fiance was cheating on you.

Eric was a naga and had been with you for more than five years. He had asked you to marry him, ring and all, on New Years Eve with his family. He had made a big show of it, too. And now, you were going to have to confront him about being a cheating bastard.

The woman who had been dumped told you that he was now dating her friend, and she had gotten the room number where they were supposed to meet. You got to the hotel with your heart in your throat and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” That was definitely Eric’s voice. He had told you that his friend needed help moving and that he’d be staying over to help him. What a good friend he was.

You deepened your voice in an effort to mask it. “Room service.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering if you were ever going to come,” Eric said, and the door swung open. As soon as he saw you, the blood drained out of his already pale face.

“No, wait--”

“Hey, babe, did they bring the right wine this time?” A female voice said from inside.

You took off your ring and threw it in his face and called inside the room, “You can have the bastard.” And walked away.

“Wait, please, this isn’t what you think,” Eric said, slithering quickly down the hall to catch you. He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it violently out of his grasp.

“Babe, who’s this?” The woman said. She was human and pretty, you guessed.

“I’m his fiance,” You retorted. “Oh, sorry, ex-fiance. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” She shouted at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Rachel, it’s not…” He stuttered. “It isn’t…”

Rachel slapped him and pushed past you toward the elevator, not looking back.

“Babe--” He started, turning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,’ you son of a bitch. Why? Why would you do this to me? Why would you waste five fucking years of my life?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do! I want an explanation. Was the sex bad? Do you not love me anymore? Are you just the type of person who has to have a side-chick? What? What about this is good for you? What about all this made destroying our relationship worth it?”

He groaned and scratched his head with both hands. “I… It… I can be anything I want to be with those girls, you know? If I say I’m rich, then I’m rich. If I say I’m successful, then I’m successful, and they don’t know better. They don’t know I have a shitty job that I hate. They don’t know that my girlfriend makes twice as much money as me, that she’s popular with people and everyone likes her better than me, even my own fucking family. They don’t know what a fucking loser I am.”

“And that’s my fucking fault?!” You screamed at him. “You know what you could have done instead of ruining a five year relationship? Gotten fucking therapy! Or, better yet, talked to me about it! I have been nothing but supportive of you. I have encouraged you to leave your job and find a better one. I told you I would support you until you found something that made you happy. You could have gone back to school or done and apprenticeship or vocational work, whatever, and I’d have been there! You could do whatever you wanted, and I would have helped you, and you know that!”

“Right, because you so fucking perfect, huh?” He yelled back. “It’s not enough that you rub your perfect job in my face every day and go around spending whatever you want because you don’t have to worry about money, but you also have to be perfectly supportive and perfectly giving and perfectly loving, too, right? How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you’re always better than me at everything?”

“So, it’s my fault you’re cheating on me because I’m a good girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying to me? I’m too fucking nice, so you had to put your dick in random women to feel better about yourself?” You raised your hands as if surrendering and shook your head in disbelief. “You know what? Fucking forget me. Forget our relationship, forget getting married, forget you ever knew me, forget my fucking face, don’t ever come to my house, don’t ever message me again, delete my number from your phone. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist to you, because you sure as shit don’t exist to me anymore.” You turned to leave.

“What about my stuff?” He protested.

“Send your brother to come get your shit,” You said without turning. “If you set foot on my property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I’m not fucking around. I’m so fucking glad you never moved in when I offered. ”

“So that’s it?” He said as you waited for the elevator to come back up. “You’re not even willing to work this out? It’s just over?”

“Get fucked, Eric,” You said, stepping into the elevator. “Oh wait, you already did. Do yourself a favor and sell that ring to pay for a therapist.” And the door closed on him.

As soon as the elevator started to move, you hit the floor and sobbed. Why? Why was he like this? You thought everything was perfect up until a few months ago, and you hadn’t know he felt like this. He always seemed happy. How were you supposed to know otherwise if he never said anything?

How you got back home, you didn’t know, because you didn’t remember it. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and didn’t even bother with a glass. For about an hour, you just sat there disheveled on your couch, crying and drinking.

Sometime later, there was a sheepish knock on your door. You hoped to God that it wasn’t Eric, but when you opened the door, Errol was there. Errol, Eric, and their sister Enya, were all from the same clutch of eggs, so he looked a lot like his brother in that they all had white, black, gold scales, golden eyes, cream colored skin, and blond hair. Errol was a bit larger that Eric, and where Eric wore his hair short, Errol kept his long and braided back. You always thought that it made him look elegant, despite his size. He was still wearing his work clothes, as if he’d just come from his construction job.

You and Errol hadn’t spent much time together alone, since Eric was a little jealous of other men. He’d always been very nice to you, though, and liked you just as well as the rest of his family. He’d even given you advice a few times in the past when you and Eric were fighting.

“Can I come in?” He asked, wincing.

“Did you know?” You asked him, your throat raw and hoarse from crying.

“No, I didn’t know,” He said solemnly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Errol,” You replied harshly.

“I swear I didn’t know. I would have told you, I promise. My brother can be an asshole, but I never thought he would do something like this.” Errol grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You retorted, your voice shaking as the tears returned. “If you’ve come to get his stuff, just get it and leave.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about his stuff, I’m here for you,” Errol said. He held up a couple of plastic bags. “I brought take out and ice cream.”

“I’m not hungry,” You said vaguely, but you moved aside to let him in.

“I got alcohol, too,” He said as he slithered inside. “I could make you a Bailey’s float.”

You sighed and sniffled. “Okay.”

You sat at your table as he bustled around making the drink, laying your tear-flushed face on the cool surface of the wood.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked weepily with your cheek pressed against the table.

“Nothing,” Errol said as he lay the glass in front of you, moving a chair so that he could coil up next to the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did he do it?” You asked, sitting up and taking a watery bite of the ice cream. “Why wasn’t I enough? He said ‘girls,’ which means there’s probably more than the two I know about. How long has he been doing this? Our whole relationship?”

“When he called me to come over here and get his stuff for him, I asked. I’m not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he said it’s only been the last year.” Errol snorted derisively. “Only.”

“How many girls?” You asked.

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. He kept trying to get me to side with him, but…” Errol rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying anything he says right now.”

“Did he do this to his other girlfriends?”

“Well, you were his first serious girlfriend,” Errol said. “Before you, he only dated casually, so it was never a problem. When he said he really loved you, I thought he meant it.”

“Yeah.” Your lip quivered and you stabbed the spoon into your float. “Me too.”

Errol reached out and pulled you into a tight hug, which you sank into and let loose again, soaking his shirt in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Errol whispered into your hair.

At some point, Errol put you to bed. You were exhausted and drunk and just wanted to sleep, so he lay you down and left you to it.

When the morning came, you felt like your head had been run over with a truck. You decided to get some coffee going before taking a shower, but to your surprise, Errol was still there. He was in the kitchen on the phone, his hair out of it’s usual braid and tumbling down his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Errol said. You immediately realized he was talking to his brother. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I don’t care if she burns it all.” He was silent for a moment, and you could hear Eric speaking. “No… No, you’re full of shit. Do you know what a good thing you had? Do you have any idea what I would give to have what you just shit on? …fuck no, I’m not going to talk her into taking you back, are you insane?! Get over yourself… No… No, it’s not happening, you can go fuck yourself right now… Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Errol hung up and turned, startled to realize you were standing there. “Oh, hey,” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” You replied honestly. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, you were in bad shape last night and I didn’t want to leave you alone. I slept on the couch, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” You said. “I was just going to make coffee.”

“Oh, I already made some,” He said, going to the coffee pot and pouring you a mugful. “I figured you could use it. I’ve got breakfast coming too, something greasy to absorb all that alcohol.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” You said, sipping the coffee. It was really good, but not your normal brand, though it tasted very familiar. Actually, now that you thought about it, you always drank the gross coffee Eric liked. This was a nice change. “I’m going to take a shower and wash last night off of me. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” He said, turning to pull down plates and prepare for breakfast.

You were about to turn to the bathroom but stopped. “Errol.”

He looked back up at you. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for… thanks.”

He smiled at you. “It’s no problem at all.”

You took your shower with your head pressed against the tile. Why couldn’t you just forget? Why couldn’t you put all of it out of your mind and stop thinking about it? What would it take to make the pain stop?

The water was cold by the time you got out, and when you went back into the kitchen, the food had arrived and Errol had everything set out on the table. He looked up anxiously when you came in.

“You okay?” He said, concerned. “You were in there for a worryingly long time. I was thinking about going in there if you hadn’t come out in five minutes.”

“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but you know.”

“Yeah,” He said sympathetically. “Try to eat. All you had last night were two bites of ice cream and a lot of alcohol.”

You picked up your fork and speared a sausage. “I must look horrible.”

“Nope, not possible,” He said, tucking into his own plate of food. “A person can look tired and cute at the same time, you know.”

You snorted, prodding your puffy face gently. “You’re too nice. Maybe I should have dated you instead.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s actually kinda funny, I was going to ask you out back in college before you started dating Eric.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he kind of sniped you, if I’m being honest.”

“I never knew that,” You said. “Did he know you wanted to ask me out?”

“Oh, yeah, I told him,” He said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I told him there was a girl at my college who always went to this one coffee shop near campus, and I told him I was going buy you your favorite coffee and cookies as an icebreaker.”

Your head rocked back. “That’s exactly what he did when he asked me out.”

Errol tsked sardonically. “Yeah. I know.”

You scoffed. “Wow, what an absolute asshole.”

Errol shrugged and smiled. “Ancient history now. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” You said as he filled your cup. “This is really good, what is it?”

“Orange and almond mocha.”

You cocked your head. “Wait… isn’t that the blend I drank at the coffee shop? It used to be my favorite.”

“I know,” He said. “I ordered some. I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. The shit that Eric drinks is revolting.”

“That’s definitely true,” You said, looking at Errol closely. “You remembered what my favorite coffee blend was from five years ago?”

Errol looked up at you. His face seemed carefully blank.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s no big deal.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “I should get going, I have work in a few hours. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take some personal days.”

Errol nodded.”That’s a good idea. I’ll call later to check on you, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Okay,” You said, feeling a little off-balance.

Errol smiled and let himself out, and you were left standing there, staring after him as an overwhelming sense of realization hit you like a freight train.

…did I date the wrong brother all this time?

Later in the day, Eric called. You almost weren’t going to pick up, but you decided to see what he had to say for himself now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“What do you want?” You said brusquely.

“Why did my brother spend the night at your house last night?” Eric said immediately.

“...excuse me?” You replied, incredulous.

“You heard me. What the fuck was he doing there?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“What do you mean, it’s not my business? He’s my brother and you’re my fiance!”

“Ex-fiance,” You corrected him. “First of all, you are the one who told him to come over in the first place. Secondly, I was not obviously doing well last night and he stayed to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or die in my sleep of alcohol poisoning. And third, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know he’s in love with you.”

Your head snapped back in agitation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you really don’t know? Ms. Perfect doesn’t know that my asshole brother has had a crush on you for years?”

“You’re full of shit, Eric,” You retorted. “Don’t drag Errol into this.”

“Did you just decide to fuck my brother to get back at me, is that it?”

“Fuck you, Eric!” You hung up the phone and hit the floor, a wave of anguish washing you again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to make everything worse?

The phone rang again, and it was Eric. You decided to block him and be done with it. You got a notification from Facebook, and then Twitter, and then Instagram, all from Eric. Every new notification made your anxiety rise higher and higher until you were balled up on the floor, sobbing again. In desperation, she dialed Errol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please help,” She begged, weeping. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps messaging me and calling me. I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Errol said. He sounded angry.

“Can you come over? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn off my phone.”

“That’s a good idea,” He said. “If I need to, I can message you on your gaming console.”

“Okay,” You said. “Bye.”

He hung up with you and you turned your phone off, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in the blissful silence, unable to get up.

Was that true? Could it be possible that Errol had been in love with you the whole time you’d been dating Eric? He said he’d wanted to ask you out. He remembered tiny details, like what your favorite coffee had been. He made you your favorite dessert when you were miserable without even having to ask what it was. He stayed overnight to make sure you didn’t get hurt or hurt yourself. He bought breakfast and defended you. He didn’t have to do any of that. He was just your fiance’s brother. Ex-fiance.

He arrived shortly after you called him. As soon as he entered the house, before he had a chance to say anything, you reached up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. For a second or two, there was no reaction, but then he leaned into the kiss, deepening it, savoring it, before abruptly putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“...why did you do that?” He asked you, his face grim.

“Eric told me,” You said. “He said you’ve been in love with me the entire time I was dating him. Is that true?”

Errol looked down and away. “Look--”

“You told Eric on the phone that you’d have given anything to have what he had. You meant me, right?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Errol, look at me!” You shouted.

It seemed to take a lot of will, but Errol’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours. They were pleading with you.

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunched as if he were in pain and he swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t…

“Don’t…lie to me,” You said in a tense whisper, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do you?”

Tears began to gather in his own eyes. His response was barely audible.

“…yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you in the coffee shop.”

You tried to press forward to kiss him again, but he held you firm, sniffing. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“But I don’t want to be used to get revenge on my brother,” He whispered back, his voice strangled and uneven. “It’s not good for you and it’s not fair to me. You know that.”

Your face crumpled. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, unable to look at him anymore. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want him in my head.”

Finally, Errol pulled you into a hug.

“I know,” He said. His body was tense, as if he were restraining himself. “We can revisit this later. Much later.”

“When?” You asked piteously.

“Not now. Not soon. You need time to heal and I… need to think.”

“I’m sorry, Errol,” You cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw it.”

He laughed slightly. “It’s not your fault. I got really good at hiding it. And Eric always kept you at arms length from me. I think he was afraid I’d steal you away or something.”

He let you go and you stepped away, looking at the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you,” You said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He put his hand under his chin and made you look up at him, his thumb stroking your cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’m relieved the secret is out now. Tiptoeing around you and Eric was exhausting. The engagement was my worst nightmare, because it meant I’d have to just suffer in silence forever.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over for both our sakes, then,” You said, attempting to smile.

He smiled too, but it was very soft. Gentle. “I don’t… think it’s a good idea for us to hang out together much from now on, at least for a while,” He said, letting go. “But… we can text. We can call. If you need anything, I’m always here for you. That’s always been true.”

You nodded. “I know.” You sighed and took another step back. “I’m going to miss you.”

His smile widened sadly. “I’m not far, but… I know what you mean.”

With the both of you in tears, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. Thirty seconds after he left, however, you got a text.

>Are you okay?

You smiled through your tears, feeling glad and grateful that he was still communicating with you. >No. But I think I will be.

>Good.

>Are you okay? You asked in return.

>Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. This was a lot at once.

>Yeah, no kidding. I think I may see a therapist to help me out.

>That’s a really good idea. Maybe I should too.

>I think everyone should at least once.

>Yeah. Do you need anything?

>No, I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Errol.

>It’s my pleasure.

Some time passed. You and Errol talked and texted every single day. Neither of you brought up dating each other and carefully avoided affectionate language. He wanted you to heal and you wanted to give him a fair chance without the cloud of his brother hanging over you.

Talking to him was effortless, like talking to yourself. You each had your own tastes and dislikes, but you both loved a lot of the same things and had similar desires. You both loved your jobs, enjoyed the same music, gushed over books you’d read, and liked playing board games. One of your favorite things to do was watch movies remotely over Zoom. It was almost like being on a date, even if you couldn’t be together.

As hard as you tried not to, you compared everything Errol did to Eric. Even still, it was obvious that Errol had always been better suited to you than Eric ever was. It was abundantly clear that you had indeed been dating the wrong brother the entire time.

On what was supposed to be your anniversary with Eric, Errol sent you a link to play a horror game with him. Errol hated anything horror, so instead of spending the day crying and drinking and cursing Eric for being alive, you got to laugh the whole day at how loud Errol screamed when he was startled. It ended up being a wonderful day.

You did see a therapist, as did Errol, and the two of you would talk about your sessions with each other, sharing the advice the counselors had given you. He also sent you gifts through delivery, like the coffee you loved and your favorite treats. Whenever you’d had a bad day or had to deal with Eric due to post-breakup business, a treat would arrive the next day, and it always put a smile on your face.

You were worried that all the time apart might change how Errol felt, but he never wavered. You woke up every day to a text saying good morning, and went to bed after talking to him for at least an hour about your day. After a month, you realized that a day or two would go by when you wouldn’t think of Eric at all. You hadn’t thought that would be possible when you first broke up with Eric, and he did still haunt your thoughts most of the time, but the respite from the emotional distress of thinking of him, even for a short time, was wonderful.

Three months after the breakup and his confession, you, Errol, and your therapists all decided that you were ready to date again. That same day, Errol showed up on your doorstep with flowers. The sight of him was like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

“Hi,” He said, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” You replied, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He reciprocated without hesitation.

“So…” He said, not letting go. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?”

“Yes,” You said, cuddling him closer.

He pulled back and kissed you for a very long time, tasting your lips and teasing his tongue just inside your mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and just looked at your face, touching your cheeks with his fingertips. Eventually he stepped back.

“Let’s go.”

Dating him was amazing. He knew everything there was to know about you, so he took you to places you loved, to all your favorite restaurants, to concerts he knew you’d enjoy. It was like you’d been dating for years already, even though it was just a few weeks. You made out like teenagers, hot and heavy, but he was careful about being intimate too quickly, though, still fearful about being a rebound. You respected that.

You were already talking about the future, though. You both wanted to get married eventually and to be parents before you turned thirty. Before breaking up, you had been talking about having kids with Eric, which was something he had expressed interest in during the start of your relationship, but recently he had been making excuses, like he didn’t have enough in savings or he didn’t feel ready. You guessed you knew why now.

You were worried that his family would be angry with you for ending your relationship with Eric and dating Errol, but they seemed completely understanding. It was likely they were also aware that Errol had been in love with you forever, and the fact that Eric cheated on you wasn’t something they were proud of. You were still warmly invited to all the family gatherings with Errol, and while having Eric there was a little awkward, his seething anger at seeing you happy with Errol was the best revenge you could have asked for.

“They let everyone in the office have the day off. Do you want to hang out today?” You asked Errol one night after about a month and a half of dating.

“Ordinarily I’d love to, but I’m feeling kinda weird today. Squishy. I think I’m going to have my period soon.”

He wasn’t being hyperbolic; nagas with male sex organs both created the eggs and fertilized them, but they didn’t have a womb or cavity in their bodies where the eggs could incubate, which is why they needed people with uteruses to propagate the species. It took a month for the eggs to develop inside them, but after that, they could implant them into another person’s body at any time they chose. However, after a year, the eggs died naturally and were expelled from their bodies, therefore, male nagas experienced periods once a year. Eric usually went to a specialized facility where the eggs would be humanely disposed of.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it rather soon for that.”

“I went into heat last week. The eggs usually die quickly after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” You said. “Why did you go into heat? That typically only happens when nagas in a sexual relationship with someone, right?”

“That, and if you’re experiencing extreme sexual needs that aren’t being met.”

“Oh. Ohhh…” You hissed in a breath. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” He reassured you. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

You were silent for a moment of deep contemplation. He seemed to sense you were thinking about something.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Do you think the eggs are still viable?”

It was his turn to be silent. “Um… maybe. Probably. I think it’ll be another week before I need to go in to evacuate them. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking…” You said slowly. “We both said we wanted kids. And I know we’re just starting out, and this is super sudden, and it probably doesn’t even make sense to do this now, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but… oh, god, I’m rambling…” You sighed heavily. “If you’d like, we can wait until next year when we’ve been together for longer, but… it just seems like this is a good opportunity. It… feels right, you know what I mean? If that’s what you want.”

He took another moment of silence to think really hard about what you were saying. “Are you sure about this, honey?” He asked you finally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” You said resolutely. “I love you, and I’m in a good place, both emotionally and financially. I’m ready to be a mom. I have been for years.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Is this something you want? I mean… I totally understand if it isn’t. If you want to wait, that’s fine with me. I just… I want to do this.”

His voice turned sultry. “You really want my eggs?”

You grinned and bit your lip. You’d learned through hints in conversations you had with him that he had a little bit of a breeding and pregnancy kink.

“Yeah. But we should act fast if we want them to take.”

“I’ll be right over,” He said, and the phone clicked.

You immediately went into the bathroom to get ready, feeling nervous. There was a weight of expectation on you, not just because you were talking about getting pregnant, but also because of how long Errol had wanted to be with you. You were scared that you wouldn’t live up to his expectation.

He arrived shortly after, looking excited and nervous. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him. He was shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, touching your face reverently. “I’ve just… I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

You smiled softly at him. “Come on.” You took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

Once in the room, he pulled you in and kissed you again, deeper this time, more probing, his body pressed flush against yours.

“I’m not sure how to… begin…” He said. “I don’t know what you like and don’t like yet.”

“We can learn as we go,” You said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Well, what do you like? Do you have any kinks I should know about?”

You laughed. “I have a few, I guess.”

“Tell me about one,” He said.

Instead of telling, you knelt down and sat on your knees with your butt resting on your feet, perched forward on your hands, and looked up at him through your lashes.

“What would you like me to do for you?” You asked, biting your lip.

His eyebrows rose and a startled smile spread across his face. “Oh,” He said. Slowly, he took off his long shirt, exposing his torso and the slit on his lower abdomen, usually closed and imperceptible from his scales, but now swollen and puckered slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair where you were crouched on the floor and came close, so that his slit was near your face.

“Touch it for me, sweetie,” He said.

Gently, you circled one finger around the slit, feeling it pulse under your touch. He exhaled sharply and his head fell back, his braid swinging. With your forefinger and middle finger, you stroked it up and down, watching it open slowly. You leaned forward and kissed it, and he spasmed, groaning.

Gradually, two dicks emerged from his slit, a long, thin one with a spear-like head, and a shorter, thick one with a bulbous head. You knew each had a different purpose. Normally, the thin one would be retracted so that nagas could just enjoy sex, but the thin one was an ovipositor. It’s what implanted the eggs. You knew not to touch it, since it secreted a numbing agent that made implanting the eggs easier.

“Now?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He said. “You’re not ready yet. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he began to undress you. You started to help, but he said, “No, no, let me do it.”

You put your arms back down and let him peel your clothes off. And then he just looked at you.

“Stand still,” He said. “Stay quiet.”

You nodded, obeying.

“Good girl,” He whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

He started with your shoulders, letting his fingers run over your skin, down your arms, up your sides, caressing your breasts, down your belly, and reached one hand between your legs. You gasped.

“Shh,” He said. “Stay silent.”

It was a hard order to follow, as he touched your pearl and massaged it slowly, running a finger inside your slit as he did. Your breathing was uneven and you had to bite a finger, but you managed to be quiet.

“You can make all the noise you want soon,” He promised seductively. “I just want to test how good you can be for me.”

You nodded again, your body shivering at his touch.

He brought his face very close to yours, so that your lips were mere millimeters apart, but stopped short of actually kissing you. You could feel his cool breath on your neck and chest, and it made your heart race.

“You’re getting there,” He said, pushing a finger inside your entrance. You inhaled, but bit down on your cheek to stay silent.

“Good girl,” He said, pulling his finger out. "Lay face down on the bed and lift your ass up. Spread your legs open.”

You nodded again and followed his orders, doing exactly what he asked of you. He slithered up behind you and went back to touching between your legs with one hand, the other sliding up and down your spine. You felt him sink down and kiss your thighs.

“You can moan for me, darling,” He said.

You were happy to obey, and whimpered against your pillow as he licked a long stripe from behind, kneading your buttocks as he did. He moaned as he sucked on you, your legs shaking. He pressed his thumb into you as he sucked, and you thought you were going to cum. He stopped just before that happened, leaving you feeling desperate.

“Good,” He said. “You’re perfect.” He crawled over you from the back so that his face was next to yours and he kissed you. “Are you still sure about this? We can just have sex, I don’t have to breed you.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about what I want right now, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” You simpered. “I want it. Give them to me. Please. I want them.”

He bit his lip, looked at you like you were something he wanted to eat, and grinned. “Good girl.” He went out of view then, and you felt his hands on your hips.

“Be still,” He said. “Let me in.”

You nodded, and felt the slim tube enter your body. The anesthetic began working immediately, so you only had a vague sensation of it pushing all the way in, penetrating your womb, and fixing itself there.

“Are you hurting, love?” He asked as he lay over you, putting his arm under your head so that you could lay on it and resting his body on top of you. Your hips were still in the air and your stomach wasn’t touching the bed.

“No, I’m okay,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, sounding a bit strained, his body tensing. His stuttering breath blew through your hair. “It’s starting.”

He grunted, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pleasure or pain. His breathing was sharp and punctuated as the egg moved down through the ovipositor and into you. You could feel a small swell in your stomach, but it wasn’t painful. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and relaxed and shuddered, gasping.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

“Not exactly,” He replied a little breathlessly. “It feels good, but it’s also a bit of work to push it out. Sorry this isn’t as sexy as you might have hoped.”

“Who said it wasn’t?” You replied, nuzzling him. “It’s like a special kind of foreplay. Besides, I’m really enjoying all the sounds that are coming out of you.”

“I can feel that,” He said, laughing. “You keep squeezing me.” He tensed again and started grunting, hugging you tightly.

“You’re doing great,” You told him.

“This is… harder than I thought it would be,” He said stiltedly. You could feel the sweat from his brow dripping on your skin.

“You can do it,” You said, kissing his arm as it gripped you and biting his thumb. “How many do you think there are?”

“I think three,” He said. He exhaled forcefully, and you felt another swell slip into you as he panted.

“One more, honey,” You said. “Deep breaths.”

He snickered, and then groaned. “Okay…” He said. He gripped you hard as the last one came and passed through. You were beginning to feel a full sensation in your belly and felt glad this was the last one.

Once it was out, the ovipositor retracted and he flopped onto the bed, gasping like a fish.

“Whoa,” He said. “Laying them in a person is way different than disposing of them.”

“How so?” You asked, moving to lie on your side so that you could touch him. He was clammy and cold.

“That felt great,” He said, looking over at you and smiling. “Like, it hurt a bit, but it felt like a small orgasm every time.”

“Probably a biological incentive to procreate,” You said, kissing his chest and neck.

He snorted. “Probably.” He looked at you with his eyes half lidded. “It’s going to be a few minutes until you get the feeling back down there. Why don’t you spend some time and play with me?”

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked.

“Maybe I’ll like it,” You said with a smirk.

He took you by the chin and made you look down at the second, larger cock, which was still erect and bobbing. “Touch me.”

You went down and sat astride his tail so that he could watch you take his cock in your hand, and begin to slowly pump it up and down.

“Hmm, that’s good,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know when your feeling comes back. We don’t want to waste time.”

“I will,” You said, stroking him. Your stomach felt tight, so you rubbed it as you touched him, drawing his eye. He watched you hungrily.

“I can’t believe you did that,” He said, smiling at you.

“We’re only half-way there,” You told him. “Don’t get too excited.”

He bucked his tail and nearly knocked you over onto the bed, making you shriek and laugh.

After a few minutes of teasing and touching and good-natured laughter, the feeling began to return. You started rocking on his tail to be sure, and realized that you were extremely sensitive.

“It’s back?” He asked

You nodded, pleasuring yourself against his body.

“Good. Lay down.”

You obeyed, and he moved to lay on top of you, his tail between your legs and his slit lining up with yours, kissing you deeply and rolling your nipples in his fingers. He pushed himself inside you as he kissed you, careful not to go too deep, as the ovipositor had made you a little sore. You rolled your body against his in time with his thrusts. You were so sensitive that you could already feel the crest of ecstasy beginning to wash over you.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m so happy.”

“I love you,” You replied, your hands in his hair as he moved inside you with purpose, precision. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He stopped immediately, and you groaned shrilly, the sensation of denial sending a shiver up your back.

“Not yet,” He said, biting your lower lip. “Not until I say. Be a good girl.”

You nodded, panting and trembling, but your body was betraying you, writhing desperately against him, trying to regain the friction.

“Be still,” He said. “I’m not going to move again until you be still.”

You squealed in need, but you did your best to make your body stop clutching at him. It took a minute, but you managed to settle down.

“Good,” He said, slowly moving inside you again. “Good girl.”

“Cum inside me,” You begged. “Please.”

“I will,” He said, kissing you. “When I want to. Be patient and I’ll reward you.”

Your body was wound so tightly that you thought you were going to explode, practically vibrating underneath him. The sight of it made him grin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, licking your earlobe, still keeping the maddeningly slow pace. “Do you want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You groaned. “Yes, please. Errol, please.”

He thrust sharply, but not hard, and you nearly came undone. You cried out, about to snap like a string.

“Are you always going to be a good girl for me?” He whispered sinfully.

“Yes!”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say ‘I promise.’”

“I promise, I promise, please!”

His thrusts became targeted again. “Beg me some more.”

“Errol, please! Please let me cum, please!” You cried. Every muscle, every nerve in your body was screaming for release.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” He said, though his movements were extremely efficient now. He was very good at drawing this out.

“I can’t take it, please!” You begged.

“One more time, say you love me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

From there, he wasted no time, slamming himself into you with speed. In no time at all, you were a screaming, shaking mess underneath him, thanking him over and over. The tension in his body and the sudden shout and moaning from him told you that he had reached his peak too.

“Not yet,” He gasped, rearing up. “I’m not done yet.”

He had leaned up so that he could look down at you and put his hand on your stomach, feeling the new hardness there. He kept going, pistoning against your body, snapping his hips against you, and rode the wave for a second time, all focus and concentration.

The both of you came one final time before he collapsed on the bed beside you, sucking in air as hard as you were. For a few minutes, all you could do was breathe.

After some time, he left the bed and went into the bathroom, and you heard the water in the tub running. You were barely conscious when he came back and lifted you out of the bed, taking you into the bathroom, and lay you down in the warm water of the bath. You were so tired and boneless that you could hardly raise your head, so he carefully, lovingly washed your body, paying special attention to your belly.

“Are you alive?” He asked after some time of sitting next to the tub, watching you drift in and out.

“I think so,” You replied, opening your eyes to smile sleepily at him. “Do you think they took?”

“We won’t know for a while. You should take it easy until then.” He smoothed the hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. “You’re going to have my babies,” He said, laughing a little.

“I hope so,” You said, taking his hand and kissing the palm.

“Eric is going to be pissed,” Errol said, snickering.

You snorted. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about him once today. This isn’t about him.”

Errol kissed you. “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” He lay his hand on your stomach and smiled gently. “All of us.”

Only one of the eggs took, but that was okay. Errol’s parents were overjoyed to learn they’d be getting a grandchild. Both you and Errol decided Eric could learn it on Facebook, like all the other strangers and acquaintances in your lives.

You took maternity leave so that you could pass your gestational time in relative peace. Errol fussed over you, making sure you ate properly and went with you to all your appointments. You made the decision to lay the egg at home instead of the hospital, and Errol’s sister acted as the midwife. It was the toughest work you’d ever done, and Errol was the best cheerleader you could have asked for.

Errol took paternity leave, like you had done, since he couldn’t leave the egg, anyway. He incubated the egg for the rest of the gestation period, curled up around it day and night. Errol’s son, Ewan, was born six months after being conceived, and within another year, you and Errol were married.

You often wondered if things had been different, if you had dated Errol from the beginning instead of Eric, if you’d be as overjoyed as you were at the moment. But then you figured that wondering about what ifs was a waste of time. You had a happy family to look after now, after all, and another clutch on the way. There was no time to worry about the past. The future was right in front of you.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[unwrittenlibrary]

Champagne Problems

Summary: a companion piece to What Kind of Man. Harry never meant for things to end up this way. 

Warnings: Cheating. Forgiveness after cheating. Don’t read if you don’t agree with that. 

Notes: some of the scenes from harry’s pov & some new scenes to dive deeper into harry. this is just march! so it’s a companion to the first piece only & is short!

-

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing 

Champagne Problems

-

March.

-

Harry wasn’t exactly sure when you and him had drifted apart. Logically he knew every relationship had points where things may feel repetitive or where both people struggle, but the two of you had never felt this cold. 

That doesn’t stop the guilt that sinks his stomach and causes his lungs to constrict when you hang the phone up. “Y/N?” He asks in response to the obvious dial tone. 

The guilt doesn’t stop him from staying at the pub. Niall had left hours ago with a hurried goodbye. Jennifer had declined going out at all, saying all she wanted was rest. All who was left was Mitch, Harry, Ally and their semester law intern, Hannah. 

“Everything okay at home?” Ally asks kindly as Harry slips into the booth. Mitch raises his eyebrows as Harry shrugs. “She sounds pissed, but no emergency.” 

“If she sounds pissed why are you still here?” Mitch laughs. It sounds uneasy to Harry as his friend looks him up and down confused. “I remember when you used to refuse going out with us because you didn’t want Y/N upset.” 

Harry takes a sip of his beer and looks away. The pub was mostly filled with other suits. More lawyers from the firm who worked in offices Harry never visited. Doctors from the hospital two blocks away.

He turns his head back to look at Mitch when he feels a hand graze his knee. “I think you deserve a break.” Hannah says quietly. Harry watches as Mitch shakes his head, but turns away before his friend can say anything else. 

(Because Mitch’s stare just forces the guilt up Harry’s throat and he’s afraid it’ll come out in vile. Things were never supposed to go this far with Hannah. It was supposed to be stupid flirting and compliments. Nothing that could break you. It was never supposed to break you.)

(Harry hadn’t done that good of a job.) 

- 

Harry wasn’t drunk. He hadn’t been drunk since law school. He was an adult. With a high paying position at a sought out law firm. He didn’t get drunk. 

You didn’t leave the porch light on though, so it’s a little hard for him to focus on getting the key in the door and also being quiet. But he’s not drunk, so he can do it. He does it. 

He pauses as he drops his keys onto the entry table. The entire first floor is dark. He slips his shoes off as well and leaves them by the door in order to avoid trying to find the correct cubby for them. 

You had left the hallway light on upstairs, so most of the staircase was illuminated enough for Harry to make it up them without missing a step. That didn’t stop him from stumbling up the last three though. 

He can see the bedroom light had been left on as well. He listens for the sound of you talking to Jack or even just the baby’s giggles, but when all he hears is silence, he assumes you had fallen asleep writing. He pushes the door open. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and twisting your ring around your finger as you gnaw on your bottom lip. Your head shoots up when you hear the door open and Harry’s eyes widen. “Y/N?” He feels his eyes squint at the bright overhead light feeling much harsher with your glare. 

He ignores the pit in his stomach as he lifts his wrist the check the time, “Why are awake? It’s almost three in the morning. (He never meant for this happen. He was never supposed to be in this scene.) 

You shrug and let out a laugh that Harry could only describe as empty. The pit in his stomach grows as you whisper harsh words, “I’m well aware of how ridiculously late it is, Harry. I figure I should be awake though, it’s the only time I’ll see you.” 

Harry looks away as he pulls his jacket off and lays it on the bed beside where you were sitting. “What are you talking about?” In order to avoid your stare he focuses his attention to his white button up. He hands fumble and he notices you stand in his peripheral version. 

His hands pause for a moment, like he expects your hands to steady his shaking ones like they normally did. You almost do, he notices, but a look crosses your face and your arms cross over your chest defensively. 

“The kids missed you.” You say quietly. 

Harry knows what’s coming as his hands fall completely away from the shirt and he finally looks at you. He feels tears rush to his eyes as the guilt from earlier in the night returns tenfold. “I missed them too.” He says quietly. 

“Seph asked me if you were leaving us.” The words feel like a punch to the gut as you just watch him stand and process them. Seph asked that? Had he really been gone so often his first daughter, his best friend, was worried he wouldn’t come back one day? 

“She what?” Harry flinches when he hears his voice crack. “I would never leave you guys, I love you.” 

You look away. “Do you?” And if your words about Persephone had felt like a punch, these felt like a gunshot. Pain splintering from his chest throughout his entire body. 

“What?” He almost yells. But he knew the kids were asleep. He never wanted to wake his kids up to fighting. He feels like he’s sobering up fast and it’s making him nauseous. He takes a hesitant step towards you before placing his hand gently on your cheek. 

Or at least, attempting to. You flinch away and Harry’s hand falls to his side. “Y/N,” He starts quietly. “Don’t think-”

Your laughter cuts him off as your eyes flick angrily back to his. “if you wanted me to believe that, you wouldn’t come home smelling like another woman.” Harry’s heart freezes as his eyes widen. You pull his left hand up, “You wouldn’t leave your wedding ring out for me to see every time I was my hands.” 

Harry tries to pull his hand back, ashamed at the idea of his ring haunting you, but your grip only tightens. “You wouldn’t have a hickey. One I didn’t give you considering we haven’t had sex in months.” Your other hand is point hard into his chest to where a mark lays covered partially by his shirt. 

You let go of him as you fall onto the edge of the bed and look up at him with tears. He feels his chest constrict as he sits down next to you. He pulls both your hands into his, “Y/N...” He says quietly. “I am so sorry.” 

Tears threaten to spill from his eyes as you try to pull away from him. “Am I not good enough?” You ask quietly. He pulls you to him but you thrash in his arms. “Seventeen years of my life. Four kids. Everything. I gave you everything.” You’re crying but your voice is cold. 

You’re thrashing stops and it’s silent. Harry reluctantly lets go of you and you immediately stand up again. You look at him expectantly and Harry feels like he’s going to throw up as he looks down at his hands. 

“It didn’t mean anything.” he says quietly. Truthfully. “It never meant- I love you.” He stresses. He falls from the bed to his knees in front of you. “You’re the love of my life.” He thinks of college. His law school graduation. He thinks getting promoted and buying your home. 

He thinks of divorce papers as you look away from him. “How long?” You ask quietly. 

“Please.” Harry begs. Where would he go if you kicked him out? Mitch would tell him he was an idiot. He loved you. Would his mom take your side? She should, he thinks. Gemma would want to kill him. 

“How long?” You ask coldly. Your face has steeled itself. Harry can see the tension in your jaw and almost feels his dinner coming up. 

“A month.” He wraps his arms around you. He nuzzles his face into your stomach. He sees your hand twitch, almost like you want to run a hand through his hair. “It meant nothing. Y/N. I’ll end it right now.” 

Stupid. His head screams. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Okay.” You unwrap yourself from his arms and step away. Harry watches you confused as you move towards your side of the bed. “I’m going to bed.” You rub a hand over your face before laying down. 

Harry stands awkwardly unsure of what to do with himself. He knew he couldn’t sleep in the bed. That something like that was probably the last thing you wanted to do. 

“Take a shower. Sleep in the guest room.” Your back is facing him and he sees your arms wrapped around yourself. This bed is too big for one person, he thinks. That’s selfish of you; His conscious tells him. 

He moves quickly to get pajamas from the closet. He debates showering in the ensuite, maybe he’d be able to see you again before sleeping, but he turned out of the room. 

He would shower in the kids bathroom. 

-

The guest room was cold. It was the only bedroom downstairs and that made it felt ten times lonelier to Harry. It was rarely used too. Gemma would stay in it when she visited L.A, but she had gotten her own apartment in the city and it was no longer used frequently. 

Your parents lived only an hour away and had no need to spend nights at your house and his mother was rarely able to make the flight over the ocean. It felt like something staged for the sale of a house. 

Harry sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. With his head in his hands he thinks over where he went wrong. He had never meant for this to happen. For any of this. 

The distance had been a byproduct of the stress. He was worried about the kids. He had done the numbers and sure you two were well off, but four kids was expensive. You had stored any more you’d made from your book in savings. A rainy day fund didn’t calm Harry’s nerves.  

So he worked more. And he went out after work for a drink or two. And he talked. That’s what it had started out as. Just talking numbers over with Hannah, who helped him work them out. She wanted to be a divorce lawyer. Or maybe it was just broad family law. 

Harry thought that was ironic now that his marriage would probably be over. It was running through numbers. Maybe there was a hand on the knee or feet that were just too class together. Things he had brushed off as accidents and completely unintentional. Then it had been him walking her to her car. Then she had kissed him and well- Harry isn’t blameless. 

It would be ridiculous for him to say he was. 

He falls back onto the bed and lets out a shaky breath. How had he been so stupid? 

He sits back up immediately and pulls out his cellphone. He hadn’t even saved her number. They almost never texted and would usually just see each other at the bar. It had only been two weeks since they had kissed by her car. They had only-

He can’t believe he had let it get this far. He can’t believe he’s sitting here justifying himself with onlys. 

He’s unsure of what to say. Should he apologize? It wasn’t anymore her fault than it was his own. 

I have kids and a wife I love. This was wrong. I’m sorry. 

Harry flinches. He felt gross and guilty. The shower hadn’t done anything but sobered him up. He felt everything over and over. Nausea, a headache bound to come on, guilt and just pain. 

He pulls up Mitch’s message strain. Won’t be in tomorrow. Not feeling great. 

He responds within minutes. Hope she doesn’t leave your ass. I’d take her side. 

Harry lets out an empty laugh. Wouldn’t everyone? His mother loved you. She had since the two of you had met in college. When you had found out you were pregnant a semester before graduation his mother had been nothing but supportive; Especially when your parents had poorly hidden their own disappointment. 

Gemma thought of you as the sister she never had. Her and Harry were close, but over the last almost twenty years you and her had grown closer. 

His mind drifts to the kids. How could he do this to the kids? Force them go through what had been devastating to him. He may not practice family law, but he knew how it worked. You worked from home all the time and had been taking care of them their entire lives. 

They would ask the kids where they wanted to go, they would refuse to leave their mother. Harry would too, you were home to everyone in the family. Life without you sounded meaningless. 

Why did you do it then? He shakes his head. He doesn’t know. It wasn’t like you had stopped giving him attention, there was no time for sex and work got in the way of dates. It was his fault. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The word repeats itself over and over again in his head. . Even if he could find ways you had ignored him or cast him to the side it would be pointless. It would be placing blame on a blameless person. It was his fault. 

He crawls under the comforter. It’s nowhere near as soft as the one you had chosen for the bedroom. The sheets weren’t slept in so they didn’t feel as soft and worn. Harry thinks of having to find his own sheets and bed, his heart drops. 

He doesn’t sleep. Unable to stop the back and forth of how do I fix this and will she even let me try? 

-

Harry’s fingers tap incessantly on the drivers wheel as he makes his way home from Serena and Oliver’s school. Persephone had been pretty silent to entire drive to her high school, but Oliver had done more than covered for her with his stories. 

How had it gone from breakfast together at least once a week and and family game nights to Oliver wanting nothing more than to be in his mother’s car and Persephone sitting in pure silence. 

Harry’s mind trails back to you as he drives. You had barely spared him a second glance as you sat down to join them at the breakfast table. He had felt his hesitant smile drop when you looked away from him. And even though talking to the kids all morning had caused his happiness to jump, there was still pain steadily flowing as he thought of what your plan was. 

Would you kick him out? Selfishly, he thought that was his biggest fear. Not having you and the kids to come home to everyday and losing the comfort it had always brought him. he had taken advantage of it and now that it could slip through his fingers at any moment he felt disgusting. 

The drive allows him to wallow in his thoughts, but pulling into the driveway is a far worse feeling. Knowing that you were inside and could give him news that would kill him.

Was he allowed to feel that way? He asks himself. Like you leaving him would kill him, when it would be because of his own choices. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to straighten himself out as he steps out of the car and begins the walk towards the front door.

He mumbles apologies and empty words as he walks up. Unsure of what he could say to you to break the silence. When he opens the door, you’re sitting with Jack as he babbles and plays with his toys on the floor. 

“Forgot how much Olly could talk.” Harry settles on starting with. He lets out an awkward laugh as you stand and lift Jack up before placing him in the play pen. You lean down and tickle him gently. “Please don’t escape, little Houdini.” Once you let him go and step away the young boy crawls away with a giggle. 

You make your way towards the kitchen silently and Harry walks behind you with a nervous buzzing feeling in his chest.

You take a deep breath and Harry watches as you slide a piece of paper over the counter and towards. As his eyes scan down the list he feels a sliver of hope creep into his heart.

“What’s this?” He asks quietly. It’s names and phone numbers that have his heart beating a million miles per second.

“A list of marriage counselors.” His eyes follow your finger as you point towards each name and number. “For us to see once a week.”

The hope in him is growing by the second as words keep coming out of your mouth. “You’re not leaving me?” He blurts out in shock.

Your stance turns defensive and Harry takes a deep breath trying to calm himself. “No.” You answer quietly. “Not yet anyways.” Harry can’t help the furrow of his brow as the words hit him. It wasn’t definite and this was a test. You sigh which forced Harry to move his attention back to you. “We have four kids together. A life. And no matter how much you hurt me, I still love you.”

Harry bites back the smile threatening to cross his face. Because despite everything, you love him. You still did. You both glance at your ring finger when he notices you twisting the ring around it. “You’re the love of my life. I don’t want to throw that all away without trying first.”

Harry can’t stop the smile this time as happiness bursts inside him. “Y/N.” He says quietly.

He kind of zones out as he watches you go over what you want to do from here. Counseling and cutting hours back at the firm. Neither a punishment in Harry’s mind.

“I’m not sure if you like, ended it with her.” You start and he nods hastily. “I have. I did last night. I’ll never talk to her again.” He promises. He feels guilt again but part of is held back by the unadulterated hope he has now.

He debates taking the steps towards you before finally deciding it was necessary. When you don��t move away, he pulls you into a cautious hug, one that he’s shocked to feel returned.

“Thank you.” He whispers and you nod.

He would fix this. He swore it. This wasn’t a maybe in his head, it was necessary.

-

Your heart was glass I dropped it.

Champagne Problems.

-

Notes:

Just a small piece while you all wait for third main part to wkm! thank you for the endless patience. hope you all are safe & healthy.

[lovclyboncs]

Everything I Wanted (Todoroki x Reader) Soulmate Au

inspired by Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish.

TW! Mentions of contemplated suicide and insecure thought that could be triggering.

soulmate Au! Where your soulmate tattoo appears on your wrist after you touch your soulmate for the first time.

F!reader x Todoroki

F!reader x Bakugou (brotp)

Plot: the reader is Todoroki’s soulmate, but he doesn’t want to let some mystical ink on his wrist dictate who he should love, so he rejects reader as his soulmate. This story is about how reader first reacted to the rejection and how slowly reader lets herself heal, but what the universe wants it will get.

Part two out now!

This is my very first post on here! I hope you guys enjoy!

I had a dream I got everything I wanted Not what you’d think And if I’m bein’ honest It might’ve been a nightmare To anyone who might care

Every night you’d wake up drenched in sweat, panting as you tried to calm your breathing, tears staining your rosy cheeks. Every night you had the same nightmare, you wished it was just your mind overthinking, but sadly it wasn’t. Even in your dreams you’d replay that memory in your head over and over again.

“ I’m sorry (y/l/n), but even if your name is tattooed on my wrist and even if fate says we are meant to be together, I can’t return your feelings. My heart belongs to another. I’m truly sorry if I’m not what you expected as a soulmate.” He told you with nothing but sincerity in his voice. The sad and hurtful truth. 

“I-It’s okay. I understand Todoroki-san. Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine” You said holding in the need to cry, and the need to let the crawling feeling in your throat free, to scream and yell how once again this world was nothing but cruel. 

He gave a slight nod of his head before walking away from you. His other half as written by the universe and written on your left wrist.

You looked down at the floor clenching your fists and look up once again to see him standing with the rest of the A-1 class who was chatting as they waited for class to resume. A lone tear raced down your face.

“I’ll be fine” You whispered to yourself.

‘I have to be’ you thought.

As a young girl all you ever did was fantasize about your soulmate. You thought it would  be a dream come true for you when you would finally get to meet them. You would get your happily ever after like in those princess tales you’d love to read before going to bed. You thought you’d have the perfect white picket fence life to look forward to. 

As a young foolish girl you thought life would be easy.

you didn’t know your parents were going to sacrifice their lives to save others.

you didn't know that you weren’t quirkless and that your parents had been using ‘vitamins’ to suppress your quirk because of how dangerous it was when your emotions went haywire.

you didn't know that it wouldn’t get better contrary to what your therapist would tell you.

you didn’t know that you weren’t going to make as many friends as you had hoped you would.

and what hurt the most was that you didn’t know your soulmate wasn’t going to be your knight in shining armor like you had hoped. 

Thought I could fly (fly) So I stepped off the Golden, mm Nobody cried (cried, cried, cried, cried) Nobody even noticed I saw them standing right there Kinda thought they might care (might care, might care) 

It had been a month since Todoroki rejected you as his soulmate. You thought you could've gotten over it  but as always it seemed like the universe wanted to punish you for just existing. You didn’t participate in class anymore, You made sure to cover your soulmate tattoo so that no one would accidentally look at it, you didn’t tare your gaze from the floor, you thought that  it wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't have to look at him, but then the rumors started spreading and then the rumors weren't so much of a rumor. 

“ Todoroki and Momo made it official!”

“ I knew they were soulmates, I mean just look at how perfect they look together.”

“ Did you see the picture Momo posted of their soulmate tattoos? I'm so jealous!”

It was all too much for you, so you ran and you ran until you found yourself on the rooftop of U.A. and you let the tears you were holding in fall. 

You let the monster crawling at your throat free, letting yourself scream, letting yourself voice the hurt you had been bottling up.

why weren't you good enough for anyone?

not good enough for your parents to live for, they would rather die for others than to live for you. 

not good enough for your classmates, they barley talked to you or invited you to places like they did with each other. 

not good enough for your soulmate to want you. hell he’d rather cover you up than let people know fate had chosen you for him, were you so disgusting that you weren't even worth mentioning as the soulmate he rejected?

“stop” you whispered to your thoughts.

“ please just stop” your voice sounded hoarse.

“I just wanted everything to stop. To end” you said louder to no one, because no one was there, because no one cared. 

you slowly walked towards the edge of the roof and looked down at the ground.

your eyes were void of anything, they looked empty.

shakily you put one foot out into the nothingness, into the only thing that could stop you from letting the pain overwhelm you. you closed your eyes ready to fly.

‘This world is so cruel and yet so beautiful’ you thought before letting your eyes snap open and gasping.

your eyes regained a light and tears began to swell once again, you let yourself fall backwards away from the edge of the building.

Yes the world was cruel and life wasn't fair, but it was also beautiful. there was still so much you wanted to experience, still so much that would be worthwhile. 

after sitting on the floor for what felt like hours, you heard the distance sound of the bell signaling the end of lunch. you slowly picked yourself of the ground and cleaned your tears with the sleeve of your uniform jacket. 

you made your way back to class 1-A. you were the last one to walk in, and some of your classmates glanced up at you, but they didn’t say anything about your puffy red eyes, they didn’t ask why you weren’t at lunch, they didn’t ask how your day was going so far, they didn’t ask if you were okay. 

because you were not okay.

you once again felt a heaviness in your chest. 

you thought they would care at least a bit, they were heroes in training after all, yet it seemed like they hadn’t even noticed.

they hadn’t even noticed your absence and maybe they didn’t mind it in the slightest. 

I had a dream I got everything I wanted But when I wake up, I see You with me

Maybe you were too wrapped up in your own mind or maybe you finally lost it, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out how you ended up like this. Eating spicy noodles quietly with your class’ very own lord explosion murder sitting across from you.

If you were to ask Bakugou why he demanded you have lunch with him, he’d say it was because your dumbass face was the only one he could stand enough to willingly share his homemade noodles with, and if you were to ask him why he was sharing noodles in the first place, he would tell you to shut the hell up and just eat without questioning him.

What Bakugou would never admit is that when he was roaming the school grounds during lunch two weeks ago he saw you standing at the very edge. He stood frozen in place, not sure of what he could do, but before he could will himself to move he saw how you feel backwards and out of his sight. He knew why he froze because he remembered a comment he made to deku before they entered U.A. He obviously didn’t mean it, but seeing you so willingly to just dive of a building made something in him feel guilt for making such an insensitive comment even if it was to deku.

He really didn’t know you well. He knew that he had never actually seen your quirk in action though probably more than half of the class could relate to that since you never really used it. He knew pretty much that he didn’t know you at all and that unsettled him. Sure he wasn’t the most sociable guy or easiest to approach, but he at least knew a couple of things about each of his classmates friends.

So he decided to pay more attention to you, he noticed how you really didn’t talk to any of your classmates and how they wouldn’t try to include you in their conversations. He noticed you always walked with your head down not really looking at where you were going. He noticed the bags under your eyes making themselves more prominent. He noticed how sometimes when you would space out in class you’d be staring at the back of the class where the half and half bastard would sit. He became aware of your being but he still didn’t know how to approach you.

The opportunity came after an awkward encounter.

Everyone (or so you thought) had gone out to who knows where and like always you hadn’t been invited. You decided to train for a little while. You had been slowly progressing with being able to control your quirk, but after your conversation with Todoroki you were back at square one. Your emotions were a train wreck making it hard to control your quirk. Becoming frustrated with yourself you decided to call it a day but since you were sweaty you went to take a shower first. You forgot to take your clothes with you, and since you were by yourself in the dorms you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal if you ran to your room. Midway there you bumped into a wall that wasn’t there this morning. You looked up and there was Bakugou looking down at you.

‘Oh shit I’m going to die’ you thought but then you saw Bakugou frown as he looked directly at your uncovered wrist.

‘Shouto Todoroki’ Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He finally understood why you had been acting more closed off than usual, and maybe if you had looked a little harder you wouldve seen the understanding in them.

“Sor-” you began to say but he cut you off

“get dressed and meet me in the kitchen” he said before walking away.

After that day things changed for you. Who knew eating noodles in silence with an angry blonde could set you on your path to healing?

Every time you saw them holding hands you didn't have enough time to let yourself question what you could have done for that to be you.

“hey dumbass hurry up or I’ll kill you” the red eye blonde would yell at you once he noticed you lagging behind. Making you forget about the black ink on your wrist and making you worry about how bakugou was going to react to you getting a C- on the test he spent a whole afternoon helping you study for.

And you say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you Don’t wanna lie here, but you can learn to If I could change the way that you see yourself You wouldn’t wonder why you’re here, they don’t deserve you”

It was close to the end of the school year and if you were to say that much hadn’t changed you’d be lying. 

thanks to practing your quirk with bakugou and him suggesting meditation to help you stay calm you were finally able to control your quirk enough to use it without fear around others.

Through him you also became friends with the rest of the bakusquad and they helped you warm up to the others.

all the second guessing and the comparing yourself to others didn’t cross your mind often anymore. 

unbeknownst to you every time you peeled off the layers of insecuirty that held you back from expressing yourself bakugou would smile glad that you,just like him, could get passed the pain left by an unrequited soulmate bond.

also unbeknownst to you, as you began getting along with the rest of the class and opening up, he couldn’t help but be captivated by some of your quirks. How you would help the likes of denki study even when you weren’t better off yourself, how you were the only one who entertained Midoriya’s rambling and even added comentary.

He began to get to know you and he could see how the universe could’ve blessed him with a soulmate such as yourself. you were the complete opposite of what he was used to, the todoroki home wasn’t exactly the most affectionate.

He was seeing you bloom right before his eyes and all he could feel was guilt as he diverted his eyes to look at his left wrist.

‘Momo Yaoyorozu’

He softly caressed his thumb over the name and even with his soft touch the fake dark ink smuged.

He thought he had what he wanted.

He thought the universe had been wrong. 

He thought it was for the best.

but as he saw you bickering with bakugou he found himself wondering what he could’ve done for that to be him, for you to be open with him like that.

he knew he was wrong but he was too far in to fix it.

If I knew it all then would I do it again? Would I do it again?

lastly Todoroki knew that even if you found it in yourself to forgive him, he still wouldn’t deserve you. 

Thank you so much for reading this far if you did! I don’t know why I couldn’t get this out of my head and so here it is. Also I threw in an AOT reference to cope with the pain.

[hookingminor]

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack​ so kate can get on the barzy train

-

1.

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

2.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

-

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

-

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

3.

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

-

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

4.

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d  turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

-

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

-

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

-

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

-

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

[amor-immortalem]

An Alternate Path

Genre: Angst

A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a two-part mini fic but people asked about a part three. I wasn’t sure where else to exactly go from there since the end of the second part felt so final for me. But then, inspired by a comment on the 2nd part, I began to think about how it would have gone if Arella hadn’t been revived with Mammon’s blood. Think of this as the bad end to the AU. This is the final part.

obviously spoilers for the lesson 16 incident and for lesson 50 (i think… correct me if Im wrong)

Replaced part 1

The Good/True End

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He sits in his room starting at the dried blood on his hands, heart aching from the loss of his mate. It had only been mere hours since Barbatos had taken her body to prepare for funeral rites but to the Avatar of Greed, it had felt like centuries. Why? He’s asked himself this question over and over. Why didn’t you check on her sooner? Why didn’t you call or text? Why didn’t you notice? Why didn’t you feel something was wrong through your pact?

As much as he wants to, Mammon has no more tears left to cry. His human is gone, never to return and it was the fault of him and his brother. He should have been there sooner. Should have reminded her how much he cared. Should have done a lot of things. He had every opportunity to, but he squandered all of it.

He rakes his hands through his hair as they whys replay in his head. The demon doesn’t have an answer for them- none that would satisfy them, at least. He lets out a yell as grief turns to rage and nothing of value is spared from his violence. Items and trinkets knock from their shelves, furniture overturned, by time the second-born was done, his room looked like a war zone.

It’s only then that Mammon collapses to his knees and lets out a broken wail as he can hear the restless cawing of his crows outside.

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Levi is alone in his room, having shut himself away hours ago. Laying in his bathtub bed, the Avatar of Envy loses himself to his thoughts and the view of the water above him. He can’t help but think about what would have happened if he had put his foot down when Asmo approached him to recruit him in helping his little matchmaking plan for Melissa and Satan.

And then his thoughts focus in on the other human. If she had never come, if they had never welcomed her into their lives through the exchange programme... Arella would still be alive. She’d still be sitting here, playing video games and helping him decide which anime he should choose to watch when there was a conflict of time slots. They’d still be talking about their Husbandos and Waifus just as they always had. But she’s not here. She never will be anymore. All because he didn’t have the spine to act like the older brother and tell Asmo no. Because he allowed his younger brother to monopolize his time.

His best friend is gone and he was part of the problem that led up to that. Levi has never felt so much self-hatred before and, just like with Lilith, he doesn’t know how to come to terms with the loss of another person so dear to him. For now, he’ll just lay here and waste away like the filthy, yucky otaku he is, wishing there was a way he could go back and undo it all or hoping that this was all just some horrible nightmare that his brain has conjured up.

“She’ll be back in the morning... right? She’s just sleeping over at the castle, right?!”

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Beel just eats. He eats and eats and eats to make the pain go away but just like his endless hunger, the pain never stops. He feels so empty inside that the only other option is to gorge himself until he physically can’t hold it anymore and vomits before he goes back for more until the cycle repeats and he runs out of food. The loss of their favorite human is killing him now- the grief of it squeezing his heart like an anaconda.

If he would have just gone to invite her to that new café she had wanted to visit with him only an hour sooner, this could have been stopped. But he didn’t. He didn’t and that’s what cuts deepest. He should have noticed when she stopped coming to dinner, or skipping breakfast, or not joining the student council for lunch day after day. He should have realized something was wrong then. But he chose to ignore it, thinking it was just one of those ‘moods’ Arella had told him about human women experiencing at certain times of the month. He thought he was helping by giving her space these last few weeks but Beel knows now that he was dead wrong.

Who would be his food buddy now? Who would let him drag them all over town in order to try out restaurant after restaurant, café and café? Sure, he had Belphie to take with him but his younger twin never really showed the same excitement when it came to trying out all the different food and drink options on the menu. The demon doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tear drops hit his hands. She only needed one of them to take a moment to see her and none of them could be bothered do just that.

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Belphegor only wants to sleep. He wants to sleep and never wake up again. In his dreams is where Arella is, happy, smiling, laughing. That laugh will haunt his waking moments forever as he realizes that for the second time, the Avatar of Sloth has caused her death. Belphie was only one of two brothers who rejected Asmo when they asked him to help with that damn plan of his. It had been too long since he and Arella had napped together after school or plotted something with Satan as part of the Anti-Lucifer league. How he missed those days.

He can feel the tears pool in his eyes as he curls up into a ball on the bed in the attic. He wonders if he had just stayed up here forever instead of trying to trick Arella into setting him free, would this hole in his chest disappear? As he buries his face into the body pillow Arella had gifted him for his birthday this year, he cries himself to sleep- indulges himself in all the good memories they had made together after she had forgiven him for everything he had done to her.

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Asmodeus is lost. They stare and stare at their skincare products trying to will themself to start their nightly skincare routine. How could they have been so foolish? The passage of time is so different to humans than it is to demons. They had only meant to take a month to match Satan and Melissa up so how had it turned to eleven already?! The Avatar of Lust wants to scream. Both at themself and no one at all. Hot tears still sting their eyes as they shapeshift. They change and they change and they change forms- any number of features forming and then shifting away as they try to find a look that they won’t recognize themself in but it doesn’t work. Asmo’s not able to look themself in the mirror for the rest of the night as they just crash down on their bed. They want to mark up their beautiful body into some hideous to match the feelings crushing their heart. Asmo wants to do something- anything- to themself to experience even a fraction of the pain Arella must have felt but all the demon feels now is just hollowness.

Their phone is vibrating on the bed next to them- a call from Solomon. No doubt he could feel Asmo’s distress through the pact they share but the Avatar of Lust is too tired from hours of ugly crying and most certainly not in the mood to speak to anyone- pact master or otherwise. The phone goes unanswered.

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Satan has his head buried in the books. He’s been at this for hours- there must be a way to bring her back to them! Melissa is with him, bringing whatever books he asks for in his search as she too is eager to bring the lost human back to this plane of existence. There was so much they wanted to do with her. From watching cheesy mystery dramas together to forming a small book club consisting of just the three of them, none of that would come to pass now.

As book after book turns up dead ends, the demon just buries his head in his hands. It feels pointless now. Who was he to play God with life and death? The thought of never seeing his friend alive once more is enough to break the Avatar of Wrath as his shoulders shake with violent sobs. He wants to go on a rampage- destroy the whole city but what would that fix? It certainly wouldn’t bring her back.

As the demon continues to cry, Melissa only wraps her arms around him and he returns the gesture. She runs her fingers through his blonde hair in an effort to calm him and it seems to work, if only for a little while. She pulls a chair up to sit next to him as she holds his hand in hers.

“Tell me about your favorite memories with her,” They girl begins, “We can’t undo what was done, but we can keep her memory alive by sharing the good times.”

And so, they talk late into the night, Satan smiling at all the memories of Arella that he holds close to his heart.

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“Hi this is Arella! I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message after the beep.... Beeeeeeeeeep”

The sound of his brother’s laughter followed by Mammon calling Arella a dork in the background can be heard at the end of the greeting on her D.D.D.’s voicemail. The Avatar of Pride can only smile with tear-stained cheeks. He was beyond intoxicated, having just finished his fourth bottle of demonus for the night. He can feel the anguish his brothers have been going through all night and it only makes his sorrow deeper.

When Arella first arrived, all Lucifer cared about was keeping her alive long enough to make it through the year. She was unimportant to him outside of the viability of the exchange programme. Back then, he would have laughed at himself for the state he was in currently. She was just a human. Why did it matter if she lived or died if it didn’t affect the exchange programme?

But she wasn’t just a human. She was their human. She was special to him. And now she was gone. There was no second chance. There would be no merging of timelines to keep her alive. Fate was cruel, but sometimes Diavolo could be crueler.

Lucifer knew his longtime friend had a reason for this. He was teaching the brothers a lesson with her death. As much as it hurt now to lose another part of this family, things would get easier as the years went on regardless of how horribly they all would miss her. This was a lesson he and his brothers would not soon forget.

Cracking open his fifth bottle of demonus, the first-born scrolls through devilgram, saving pictures on her profile to be used in the memorial service. One of Arella with each of his brothers and himself and multiple pictures she’d taken with all eight of them from their adventures throughout the years that they’d all been together.

He lets his mind wander back over the last eleven months. All the red flags he had missed with his rose-colored glasses. They all made sense to him now. All the time she spent isolating herself from them, skipping meals, leaving either incredibly early for school or incredibly late for school. She was trying to get them to notice her over Melissa. He regrets their last interaction from a few months back. The way there had clearly been something wrong, yet he chose to lecture her about attending RAD on time as to not disgrace Diavolo. How he wishes he could take it back.

As the only brother save for Belphegor not conscripted to help Asmo in his ridiculous plan, Lucifer should have been the first to reach out to her. He may have been buried under paperwork, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t just sit and talk while he worked. He regrets not calling or checking up on her.

A video plays on her devilgram. It was from one of the nights they had spent up in the human world last summer.

“Awww, come one, Lucifer. It won’t be that bad. We’ll have those flowers from the fairy rings and make it back in one piece. I promise to keep Mammon under control so we won’t cause any trouble.”

The Avatar of Pride clicks out of the app as he feels more tears gather in his eyes. He can’t do this right now. Not tonight.

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Her service was beautiful- Or at least that’s what Lucifer tells Mammon as he and the rest of their brothers return home. Mammon wanted to go, he really did, but with it only being a few days removed from her death, the second-born couldn’t bring himself to go. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her or didn’t want to celebrate his mate’s life but it was still far too painful for him.

Part of him was still in denial over it too. Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself that she wasn’t gone. She was just stuck up in the human world and had forgotten her D.D.D here so he couldn’t call her. The logical side of him knew it wasn’t the case and every time he was reminded of it, it threw the Avatar of Greed into a deeper pit of despair. He’d spent some nights since she’d passed alone, crying himself to sleep begging for his human to come back to him others he would just lie awake, tracing over where her mark from their pact had been etched into his chest, set right over his heart.

Suddenly years have gone by now. His brothers have made peace with her passing but Mammon cannot. Visiting her grave never helps to ease the pain either, but still he goes. If Arella’s spirit still lingers, no doubt she would be upset if he didn’t go. It would only serve to prove her dying thoughts true when they couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Hey, Treasure... Miss me?” There’s no one here but Mammon and a tombstone. “I miss you... everyday... So much changes every year... Both Asmo, Levi, ‘n Satan got kids now... little girls for them and Levi has a boy...” He pauses to take a shuddering breath as the cold wind blows. “Can ya believe it? The first kids born ta this family and their both girls and then we got a boy... sweet little things too- alla ‘em.  I wish ya coulda been there ta meet them... Actually, looking at my brothers with their kids, it makes me wonder what ours woulda been like, ya know? And I wish none of this woulda happened... you deserved so much better than me ‘n I knew that. We all knew that. But ya chose me anyway and look where it got ya... Six feet under... If I could go back and do it all over again I would. I woulda told ya what was goin’ on. I woulda spent more time with ya. I woulda... woulda proposed... made sure you knew how much I loved ya everyday... I know ya probably can’t hear me, but I’m so sorry... for everything! I love you so much that I can’t move on and I won’t. If I die single then that’s fine by me.”

As he cries, thinking he’s alone, Arella watches from her seat on her tombstone. None of the brothers knew it but she’d been watching all this time. It wasn’t until she passed that she realized how deep their feelings ran and part of her wishes she would have waited just a bit longer before leaving for the human world that night.

She tries her best to let them know she’s there- that she loves them and is watching over them with Lilith, but she’s not strong enough to do more than move small objects around. She hopes that they’d notice but they never do.

As she hops off of her tombstone, Arella crouches down next to her mate. The best she can do for him is conjure a warm breeze as her spirit leans over to press a kiss that he’ll never feel to his cheek. Upon the breeze, he can hear a soft whisper of a reply.

“I love you too.”

And it's that reply that reassures him she’s there and she always will be. He hopes maybe in another life they’ll meet again and get to have the happy ending they never got to have in this one.

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taglist: @gayassfuckinghomosexual @joyvlee

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[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[jenojaemssss]

dazed and confused

pairing: jeong jaehyun x gn!reader

genre/categories: angst, college!au, frat boy!jaehyun, a bit of fluff

word count: 3.6k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble wtf)

warnings: mentions of sex, allusions of sex yk the vibes, oh and a lot of cursing 'cause i lack the ability to keep language below 14+

synopsis: jaehyun isn’t scared of heights. he isn’t afraid of roller coasters that dropped at those terrifying heights. but he is, in fact, so utterly terrified of falling.

a/n: y’all this was supposed to be a drabble…but i wrote too much and now it’s a fic and idk how i feel abt it LOL anyways, it has not been (and will probably never be) proofread so please excuse any grammatical and spacing errors! i will now go cry with my 3 assignments due in like an hour.

~~~~~~~~

faded. drunk. confused. mentally unstable. all these words, along with maybe 30 more could be used to describe your current state as you sludge your way into a familiar bedroom at the nu chi theta house after puking up probably a lifetime’s worth of alcohol.

the god awful ringing in your ears and the throbbing of your head makes the room spin, but you’re awake enough to recognize that the room was currently occupied. before you can mumble out a string of curse words and a sorry, you particularly notice exactly who was inside the room.

you’re caught off guard by a, now pissed looking, jaehyun along with someone who you don’t immediately recognize. you realize then who’s room you just entered and mentally smack yourself, reminding yourself to rid of the habit.

the other person is hiding underneath a blanket as jaehyun does his best to cover their figure, protecting their privacy to shoot daggers at whoever was interrupting his ordeal.

it takes you a couple seconds to fully register what was happening in front of you and you scoff.

so that’s how it is.

jaehyun, on the other hand, has his eyes widened. so wide that you think there are more whites visible than the typical brown orbs. he’s gaping now, mouth open and trying to think of excuses as to why he was in bed with someone else after dumping you only 2 days ago.

in his defense, there’s no need for an excuse. the two of you were already over, and he could fuck whoever he wanted to fuck. you could be doing the same.

but you aren’t.

instead, all of yesterday and the day before, you hunkered in your bedroom, cuddled in a blanket with tissues sprawled all over your bed and the floor. you went to your classes, hoodie pulled up way over your head to shield your puffy face and baggy eyes, came home, drowned yourself in ice cream, and cried.

yet he’s here, hooking up with people after leaving you heartbroken. you should’ve listened to jungwoo when he warned you about his flatmate; about his tendencies to sleep around and leave his relationships in the dirt.

when you and jaehyun first began flirtatious interactions with one another, it wasn’t in your intention to start anything serious with the dimple-faced boy. yet one encounter followed another and you never realized how hard you were falling until you were up at 3 am smiling at messages he’d sent you the previous day.

when he asked you to be his girlfriend after about 2 months of successful dates, you were ecstatic. your mind raced back to jungwoo, correcting him telepathically. he was so wrong about jaehyun. he was the sweetest person you’d ever been with, and was so patient with you.

It even made jungwoo take back his words after you announced the relationship to your best friend.

he said jaehyun had changed since he’s been with you.

that change lasted about 4 months afterwards.

4 months of pure bliss; cute dates like picnics at 11 pm after going on drives, watching the sunset from the roof of a nearby apartment building, jumping fences into the expanses of lakes after hours.

4 months of being pressed into a mattress with jaehyun gazing down so lovingly at your writhing body. him pressing into you as your mewls surround the small bedroom. him holding you as both of you come down from your high.

4 months of falling in love with jaehyun.

all to waste after he texted you during class, saying that he needed to talk to you. at least he had the decency to not dump you over text.

jaehyun said something along the lines of “it’s not you, it’s me,” and mentioned that he “doesn’t like being tied down.” you remember nodding, emotions not surfacing until he stands up and leaves you at the coffee shop just around the corner of your dorm building.

your coffee shop. the one you two went to whenever you wanted to find the other. it was like your secret hideout, because no one from your campus knew of this place, even though it was so close to home.

you thought things were going so well, the two of you even making plans to meet each other’s parents over the coming break. but with only a few words from one side, and wordless nods coming another, everything faded to dust.

so as you stare at the man who shattered your heart with someone else underneath him, you plaster a polite smile before flipping him off and exiting the room. his shouts follow you, and you inwardly scream at him to shut up. he has no right to sound so broken at the moment.

you pass by jungwoo on your way out and he immediately notices your tense figure, trailing his eyes towards the direction you were coming from. his jaw clenches when he realizes, wanting to barge into the room and beat the living shit out of his flatmate, but instead follows you out the house.

the blaring music coming from the beaten house becomes muffled by the time you step foot outside the door, tears threatening, but not yet falling from your bloodshot eyes.

jaehyun isn’t slow to catch up with you, but is stopped by a raging jungwoo before exiting the house. jungwoo warns jaehyun to leave you alone, but jaehyun is persistent, pushing past his friend to grasp your shoulder before you could storm away from his reach.

his previous rendezvous has been completely forgotten, and all jaehyun could focus on was you. he notices how you reeked of alcohol, a hint of marijuana radiating from you as well. what he notices the most, though, was that you had a hint of his favorite perfume lingering on your skin.

before you have the chance to turn around, jaehyun is ripped from you, a loud smack following almost immediately after. jaehyun stands, one hand holding onto his pounding cheek while the other grip’s jungwoo’s shirt.

your best friend has both his hands tightly fisting jaehyun’s shirt, staring bullets into the boy’s face.

“you have no right to barge out here and chase us down after you let y/n go,” jungwoo growls. he sees red, heart hurting for his best friend. he cares about you so much. the two of you always fitting into one mold, completing each other, and every time either one of you had their hearts broken, the other would be there to fix and mend everything.

yet, he’d never seen someone hurt you as much as jaehyun did. however much you hurt, it hurt him equivalently. he knew this one was different, because the pain you felt was so much more intense than any you’d experienced before.

what pushed jungwoo even further off the ledge for him to act like this though, was that if he were to be in the same position as you, you would be doing the same thing. you’d also be doing your best to keep him from hurting himself over and over by someone who only meant trouble.

“woo, that’s enough,” you mutter out before coming to push the two boys away from each other.

“y/n, let me explain,” jaehyun grabs your arm as he says this, eyes searching yours for some form of reaction. your previously watery eyes are dry now, and the emotion that was threatening to overcome you minutes prior have all disappeared. you shrug off his hand.

“there’s nothing left for you to explain.”

it killed you, but you had to muster the strength to spit those words at the man you were falling in love with. you knew that it would have been worse if you were to hear him out.

“y/n please just-”

“that’s enough,” you whip your head in his direction, warning him with your eyes.

“but y/n-”

“i said enough!” you’re yelling now, slightly pushing the boy back. he stumbles over himself, and jungwoo takes this opportunity to grab your shoulders and tuck you safely behind his back. you had tears running from your eyes, frustrated at the tugging of your heartstrings because you’re supposed to hate him. you were supposed to be elated that you were in this situation, him begging for your time.

yet it hurt seeing him so broken in front of you, begging for another chance. it hurt so damn much, and you’re so angry at yourself for being such a pushover.

jaehyun straightens himself, looking in your direction but not quite at you because you're hiding your face behind your best friend’s denim jacket covered back.

“y/n, i just want to apologize.”

“there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“there-”

“no, jaehyun, there isn’t,” you use this as a stepping stone to emerge from behind jungwoo, who’s calmed down a bit since connecting his fist with jaehyun’s sharp features.

“don’t talk. let me finish,” you raise a hand before he could get another word out of his mouth. he shrinks a bit, but his eyes focus on your figure slowly approaching him, letting you know he’s listening.

“there’s no need for you to apologize for whatever you were doing because we aren’t together anymore and you can sleep with whoever you want. i don’t care, it’s none of my business. you don’t have to apologize for me walking in on you, because again, none of my business anymore.” you take in a deep breath before you continue.

“if you were going to apologize for breaking up with me, there’s no need. what’s done is done,” you whisper. you feel a huge lump form in your throat. you do your best to swallow it, along with your pride, and smile up at him.

you can’t really read him, but you can tell he’s in thought. you continue.

“if you were to apologize,” you began, sniffing up the snot that’s beginning to trickle down your nose. you probably look like a mess, but you could care less. you needed to get all of this off your chest. you wouldn’t have any other opportunities, so might as well do it now.

fuck the fake smile. fuck faking it til you make it. this is so much better.

“you should be apologizing for making me believe you were sincere with me,” you continue. jaehyun’s eyes go wide, and you notice the slight, subconscious, shake of his head. you proceed.

“i shouldn’t have believed it when you said i was different. fool me once, shame on me. but you continued to make me believe that i was different.” jaehyun opens his mouth, but you give him a look that shuts him up completely. he needs to fix that habit of always wanting to interrupt.

your ramble continues. “you should be apologizing for lying to me when you said you wanted to meet my parents. we set up the date and everything, and they were actually looking forward to meeting you, but now i have to tell them you aren’t coming,” you speak as calmly as you can. anything related to your parents always makes you ten times more emotional in every situation, and this was taking somewhat of a toll on you.

“you should be apologizing for making me feel special all the damn time. you made me believe i was the only one for you and that you were the only one for me. you made me feel so fucking foolish after you left, you know that? i thought we were doing so well, and you just left me in the dust after being so fucking vague. what do you mean ‘it’s not me, it’s you?’ it makes absolutely no fucking sense,” you’re almost hysterical now as you let everything fall down your face. you’re still eye to eye with jaehyun, and he looks taken aback by your declarations that he’s rendered speechless.

your next few words are what makes jaehyun’s world come crashing down.

“you should be apologizing for making me believe you were falling in love with me too,” you whimper. you’re full on sobbing now, and jungwoo assists you from falling to your knees.

it takes jaehyun a couple moments to register what was happening, a couple moments to fully comprehend what you were saying; what you meant.

you were so broken because you were beginning to love him. and he let you go.

“i’m..i’m-”

“leave, jae. do it when i’m asking nicely,” jungwoo’s low voice echos from your spot on the ground. your shoulder shake with every sob you’re letting escape you.

“jungwoo, let me fucking talk, okay? stop interrupting me every damn time while i’m trying to figure things out with y/n. this was our relationship, not yours!” he’s yelling now, and jungwoo shrinks. he knows he’s stepping over the line, but some things reach a limit, and jaehyun is reaching his.

“yes, i know y/n told you things, but did you know that i used to wait after classes when the weather turned bad just to make sure y/n wouldn’t be walking home in the rain? always forgot an umbrella when it counts,” he chuckles the last line, eyes teary.

“did y/n tell you that every single time my phone rang, i was internally wishing that the name popping up on the screen would be ‘lovely’ and no one else’s? i always wait for your calls, you know,” he directs it to you this time. “they always made my day.”

you raise your head when you realize he was walking to you. when you see his tortured expression while reminiscing his feelings for you, you suddenly had the urge to run up to him and wipe away the tears falling from his handsome face. you hated that that was your first thought, though.

“did y/n tell you i was falling too?”

you tense at his words, and jungwoo scoffs.

“if you were falling, why did you break things off?” the words leave your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. your mind was running a mile a minute because in what world did it make sense for jaehyun to dump you when he claims to be falling in love with you.

“i was scared,” he finally mutters after a couple seconds of painful silence.

“what is there to be scared of, jaehyun?” you’re standing now, jungwoo completely baffled at the interaction taking place in front of his eyes. he realizes then, that maybe jaehyun was telling the truth.

jaehyun was scared of falling.

jungwoo recalls all the times jaehyun has been in an actual relationship, but can only remember one other time that he actually introduced someone to the boys as his. all the others were just casual flings, where they'd be slipping out the door before anyone could acknowledge their existence.

when he broke things off with that past relationship, his actions were similar to the ones he’s portrayed the past few days. silence in his room instead of the typical blaring music from his sound system. a shocking decrease in teasing his housemates. jungwoo even noticed that he didn’t see the dimples on jaehyun’s face as frequently.

the one other person ended the same way, jaehyun breaking it off about 4 months into the relationship, saying he didn’t like being tied down.

he didn't like being tied down? he doesn’t like...shit, what a fucking dumbass. he’s scared of being in love, jungwoo realized.

“that’s what you meant,” jungwoo states his epiphany out loud and he stands up. he brushes off any dirt from his pants and begins to walk towards the house, knowing that whatever happens on the front lawn would heal more than harm.

you look at your best friend in confusion, but he plasters a grin on his face and looks in your direction before turning to jaehyun. “you need to stop being such a wuss.” and he’s back inside the house.

“it seems like everyone’s mission is to cut me off today, and it’s getting a little aggravating,” he tries to joke and you just stare at him in silence. he takes it as an, “i don’t care, just talk,” and begins his tangent.

“i broke things off with you because i was scared,” he begins. you follow his words with a nod, emphasizing that you’re listening to the man standing across you.

“i’ve never been in love before, and i didn’t realize how-how utterly terrifying it felt. i was close one time, but i broke things off before anything else could develop because i didn’t think i was ready for it. i felt like i was incapable of love for a while because of my stupid frat boy image, you know?” you nod in response to his rhetorical question and he begins moving towards the small bench sat on the lawn. you follow suit and sit yourself down a good distance away from him.

he talks again, this time sounding more regretful than anything. “i sometimes tell myself how idiotic i am because i let them go before. if i just had the balls to accept the fact that maybe i was falling in love, i wouldn’t have to see them roam around campus a couple months after with someone else.”

you remember briefly jaehyun’s previous relationship. it was the talk amongst your campus because the jeong jaehyun was in an actually relationship with someone. and people were making bets on how long they thought it’d last. same as they’ve been doing for your relationship with him.

“it all kind of got to me without much of a warning because like, shit, falling in love with someone meant checking your phone every 3 minutes cause you’re scared you missed their call, or calling them if they took too long to assure you they’re home safe, that kind of thing,” he smiles. “no one teaches you that.”

you chuckle dryly because he hit the nail on the coffin. no one tells you the details about being in love, only mentioning the feelings and not the irrational things you’d do for them.

jaehyun continues after he assures himself that you’re listening to his words and internally heave a relieved sigh. he was scared you were going to have things come in one ear and out the other.

“at the same time, if i kept them in my life, i wouldn’t have met you. we wouldn’t have developed a relationship, and i wouldn’t have began to fall in you,” he scoots a bit closer to you, and you let him.

“and you wouldn’t have broken my heart like this,” you retaliate and he physically winces.

“ouch. you’re not wrong though,” he smiles, dimples reappearing on his face.

“get to the point, jaehyun. it’s cold as fuck and i don’t have a jacket,” you complain when he’s silent for a little too long. you’re holding your arms now, hit by the frosty air. when he’s silent for another moment, you look up from your feet, ready to complain again. but instead, you’re met with a hoodie being pulled over your head and you’re stunned.

“when i said i was cold, i didn’t mean for you to give me your hoodie.”

“well, too bad,” he smiles widely. the hoodie smells like him, and you take in his scent. the sweater was a bit larger on you, so you begin to roll the sleeves up, pulling your arms out of the sweater paws.

“as i was saying, i realized i was falling in love with you and i was just- i don’t know, i was scared. i think i’ve said the word scared like 10 times today, but what other word is there?” he chuckles. you do the same.

“so i did what any other sane person would do and dipped. i ran away from my feelings because in my brain, it was the best thing to do. and i hurt you in the process because i was being a selfish asshole, and i’m sorry,” he finishes, you assume. as you’re thinking about how to respond, he catches you off guard with something you never thought would leave jaehyun’s mouth.

“oh, and i love you. i’m sure of it,” he declares.

and you’re crying again. as intoxicated as you were just 30 minutes ago, you swear that in that moment, you weren’t drunk on the drinks or faded from the j’s, but you were intoxicated by jaehyun.

the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s smiling at you.

he stretches out a hand in your direction, asking for your permission to take your own and grab his hand in response. his hand engulfs yours like a hug, and he intertwines his fingers with your cold ones.

“so does this mean you love me back?” he questions.

you nod, because you can’t think of anything else to say. you’re so utterly in love with him that you’re rendered speechless, you fool.

“and does this mean we can start over?” he asks, hoping for another nod.

instead, you speak. “why were you fucking someone else when i got here if you’re in love with me?”

jaehyun is now the one rendered speechless and gulps before answering. “have you ever heard of heartbreak sex?”

“isn’t that supposed to be with the one who broke your heart?”

“yeah, but if we had sex, i would only fall in love with you more.”

“and you don’t want that?”

“i do now,” he smiles.

you roll your eyes and say nothing.

“i’m sorry i hurt you.”

“you better be.”

“i promise i won’t do it again.”

“next time you do, i’m chopping off your dick in your sleep so you won’t be able to go have heartbreak sex with someone else.”

[super-marvel-imaginesxoxx]

Truly Forgotten

Summary: A birthday is forgotten.

BuckyxReader

Warnings: angst, language

Word count: 783

A/N: OKAY so this is angsty. This is from personal experience as my birthday was just on the weekend and my entire family didn’t wish me a happy birthday. I just really wanted to get how I felt into words and I thought what better way than through fanfiction? But here you go! I’m also working on a Bridgerton Series with Bucky that has been taking me sooooo long to get out, but school and work have been kicking my ass and my mental health isn’t doing too well, but I promise I’m working on it! Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

     You watched the clock countdown the seconds until your birthday was over. It was like watching the countdown for new years, just without the excitement. Your phone lay beside you, taunting you with the black screen. Your eyes began to water as the seconds came closer to the end of the one day of the year you always looked forward to. Five… Your phone stayed black. Four… The silence grew louder. Three… Your tears fell freely. Two… Your hands shook as they wiped at your face. One… A sob break free. The bright 12:00 on your clock mocked you. 

     Not a single happy birthday message. From anyone. You had gone through the whole day, thinking perhaps everyone was just waiting for the right moment to surprise you. To wish you a happy birthday. But as the day slowly went on and no one even acknowledged your birthday, your heart began to break. Had everyone truly forgotten?

     More sobs broke free as you curled into the fetal position on your bed. Horrible thoughts flew around in your head. You tried putting on the TV to drown them out, but the more that your tears fell the more the thoughts got worse. You were an afterthought. You truly meant nothing to anyone and they only thought of you when you needed someone. 

     After a few hours exhaustion took over, and the thoughts silenced as slept took you.

__________

     Everyone woke up the next day, well rested. They met in the kitchen for their usual Sunday morning breakfast. Bucky immediately noticed a person missing. “Guys, where’s (Y/N)? She never misses out on breakfast,” he said, a smile going on his face thinking about you scarfing down your favourite pancakes.

     Steve shrugged. “FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N)?” he asked the AI as everyone started setting the table.

     “(Y/N) is still sleeping, Captain Rogers. It seemed she didn’t get to sleep until just a few hours ago,” FRIDAY announced to the team.

     “Nightmares again?” Tony asked no one in particular.

     Bucky’s heart dropped at the thought of you suffering through your nightmares alone. He knew how bad they got and he always told you to come to him because of his own experiences. “I’ll go check on her,” Bucky announced, already walking towards your room. He reached your door and gently knocked. “(Y/N)?” he asked.

     After a minute and no response, he opened your door, finding it unlocked. The light from the hallway lit up your room and he could see you curled up on your bed, your back to him. He walked towards you, arm outstretched to gently shake you awake. “(Y/N), wake up,” he whispered to not startle you.

     Your eyes slowly opened. They felt sore from all the crying you did that night. You turned to look at Bucky giving you a small smile. “Please, get out of my room,” you whispered, not wanting to let your simmering anger boil over and start yelling. 

     He looked taken aback. “W-What?”

     You turned back over. “You heard me. Get out of my room,” you said, you voice slowly getting louder as your anger threatened to come out.

     “Listen, I just came to see if you were alright. We thought maybe you started having nightmares again and I-”

     “For once, it’s not a nightmare,” you said, throwing your blankets off. You got up and started pacing, trying to get away from him. “For once, I wish it was a nightmare. But no. It’s not a nightmare. It’s reality. And it fucking sucks! It sucks because I thought I meant something to everyone, but I don’t!” you scream. Tears rush down your face as Bucky stands. He tries to come near you, but you wrap your arms around yourself and move away from him. “Don’t. Please. Just get out,” you begged.

     Bucky nods his head in defeat and leaves your room. He hears the lock slide the second the door closed. “FRIDAY, what did we do?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

     “I believe (Y/N) is upset because everyone forgot her birthday this year,” the AI answered.

     Bucky shook his head. “No. No. That’s not possible. We would never forget her birthday. It’s-”

     “It was yesterday, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI told him.

     “Why didn’t you tell us?!” Bucky yelled, frustrated at himself and the others.

     “(Y/N) asked me not to. They said that it wouldn’t make it special if everyone had to be reminded. That it wouldn’t mean anything,” FRIDAY explained.

     Bucky shook his head in disbelief. How could he have forgotten? How could he have done that to you? He heard your sobs through your door and his heart broke even further.

[imkylotrash]

Meet Me In The Afterglow

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: Hardin made a pros and cons list about his girlfriend and Tessa. When the reader finds the paper, everything goes wrong. And Hardin may not be able to fix this one. Anonymous

Tagging: @justyouraveragedorkygirl​

Skinny

Nice ass

Big boobs

You turn over the paper with shaking hands not sure if you’re prepared to read what’s under your own name. You blink several times to clear your vision but even then you stall time before looking at that piece of paper. You need to know, but you don’t want to know what’s been written on that small piece of paper. 

Nice laugh

Boobs? 

The question mark punctures your heart and the pain spills all over the floor. Did he write this? He really sat down and compared you with Tessa - or anyone for that matter - after three years together? 

“Babe?” Panic settles in your bones when you hear his voice. You’re not ready to face him yet. The paper falls to the floor as you flee to the bathroom locking the door. It doesn’t matter if you have the paper or not, the words have been etched into your brain. Every time you close your eyes, you see the words that makes Tessa better than you. It’s too much for you to handle. 

“Baby?” Hardin asks knocking softly on the bathroom door but you don’t reply. This has become your safe haven from the pain and hurt Hardin has created outside. Who knew a piece of paper would be enough to break the amazing bond between you and Hardin? 

“What’s happened?” You can hardly bear to hear him so upset when your heart is the one falling apart. Still you can’t bring yourself to answer him or even let him know that you’re okay, because you’re really not. Of course, Hardin isn’t stupid so it doesn’t take him long to find the note. 

“Y/N, baby. Open the door right now!” He’s pounding on the door yelling. Once again he doesn’t care if the neighbours hear your fight. Instead of opening the door you curl up on the floor and let the tears flow freely. It takes too much to keep yourself together right now so you let yourself fall apart with the promise that you’ll collect the pieces in the morning. At some point, Hardin gives up and goes to bed. You’re sure you’ll talk tomorrow but right now you’re grateful for the silence. The next morning you wake up shaking. One look in the mirror confirms your blue lips and pale skin. You’ve been freezing. In an act of bravery, you open the door and tiptoe into the living room to find a blanket. You have every intention of locking yourself in the bathroom again when you turn around and spot him. There are circles under his eyes letting you know that the screams you heard last night wasn’t something you’d imagined. He’s been having his nightmare again. 

“Hi.” Raspy voice from crying. 

“I’m sorry.” There’s the apology that you want but not sure you’re ready to accept. 

“You have to know I didn’t write this. You have to know that I’d never even look at another girl. I was at the frat house and the other guys were fooling around writing these things down.” It’s a logical explanation but experience with Hardin has taught you that there’s always more than what Hardin tells you. 

“But why keep the note?” 

“I crumbled it up and put it in my jeans. I didn’t even think about the fact that you might find it. I swear, I didn’t write anything on Tessa’s page.” 

“Did you write something on mine?” you ask remembering the question mark placed after boobs. 

“I wrote some of it. But Jace and Molly wrote most of it.”

“Did you tell them to stop?” You don’t want the answers but for some reason you can’t stop yourself from asking them. His silence is enough answer on its own. 

“I’m going to be sick.” You run past him and into the bathroom where you throw up. Hardin comes into and tries to hold your hair but you keep screaming for him to get out and eventually he does. You’re not sure how long you stay out there this time, but it’s dark outside when you finally open the door. Hardin is sleeping with his back against the wall. He’s been waiting for you to come out. 

“Hardin?” you whisper but he doesn’t wake up. There’s a sort of peaceful look on his face here in his most innocent state. It’s funny how sleeping people always look younger. You take a moment to study him knowing full well that even though he’s hurt you worse than ever before, you’ll forgive him. You always do. It’s the way your love works. He hurts you, he works for your forgiveness, you give it to him only for him to hurt you again. You accepted a long time ago that Hardin Scott was a broken man and you were not the one meant to fix him. 

“You’re staring.” His eyes stay closed and you feel relieved that you still have this moment of privacy. You don’t say anything as you sit down next to him. Close enough to reach out and touch him if you want. 

“I hate that I hurt you. I-”

“Again.” 

“What?” 

“You hurt me again, Hardin. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve ever done something to hurt me. And I truly don’t care how much or how little you had to do with the list. You should’ve stopped them. And you definitely shouldn’t have kept the note.” Nausea hits you again but there’s nothing left inside of you to come up. You clench your hands as hard as you can to give you something to focus on other than the nausea. 

“I fucked up. I know I did. And one of these days sorry won’t be enough for you to forgive me. But please don’t give up on me yet. I’ll do better. I know I can do better.” At this point, you already know the speech. It hasn’t changed much throughout the years but the effect is the same. 

“Of course I’m not giving up on you. I just need a little space before I’m ready, okay?” 

“Of course. I’ll stay out here tonight.” There’s a feeling of relief when you hear that you’ll have the night to yourself. You’re not sure you’d be able to think straight with him sleeping next to you. 

“Goodnight,” you say ready for bed in less than an hour. It takes precisely two hours before you hear the first scream. Instincts react faster than your brain. You sprint out into the living room just in time for him to wake up. He’s drenched in sweat and terrified of what he had to revisit in his nightmare. 

“Come here.” Everything is ancient history in this moment because Hardin needs you. And you realise that you’ll have to discuss some things later, but right now you push it to the back of your mind. 

“Come with me,” you say gently holding out a hand. He instantly grabs it and lets you lead him to the bathroom where you turn on the shower. You both undress before getting in and just letting the water rain down on you. 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” You’re not ready to say it back yet and Hardin doesn’t push you. You both know you’ll say it back tomorrow. It’s just the way these things go.