#I really don’t know what to tag for so any warnings I might’ve missed please tell me ^_^

[bad12amcomic]

De-escalation

Content Warnings: eye strain, implied violence, scopophobia, mind control

Happy Valentine’s Day!

[gojoest]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

━━━ synopsis: fate has a strange way of birthing love. you married gojo satoru to stay close to his father — an arranged union built to conceal a scandalous affair. but somewhere between the lies and the silence, another secret began to stir quietly in your chest. one that did not belong to his father at all. 

━━━ content warning: MDNI, fem! reader (she/her), arranged marriage, affair, infidelity, love triangle, age gap (late 50s vs late 20s/early 30s), reader’s age isn’t necessarily specified but she’s written with late 20s/early30s in mind, unreliable narrator, original characters (satoru’s parents: gojo akihito & gojo saori), falling in love, sexual themes but no explicit content, alcohol consumption in a few scenes, reader is drunk in one scene, flashbacks, character death, murder, twists, there’s a specific fire scene that is heavily inspired by the manhwa “betrayal of dignity”, pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, ask to tag if something triggering is missing 

━━━ pairing: gojo satoru x fem! reader ; gojo akihito (oc) x fem! reader 

━━━ word count: 20k+ (…idk what happened there tbh) 

━━━ author’s note: hello guys! this is the idea i first mentioned back in october and it’s finally coming to life! it’s the longest thing i’ve ever written so please be gentle and kind — to me, to the story, and to reader. i did my best to proofread while editing but apologies in advance for any typos, inconsistencies or mistakes that might’ve slipped through! i hope you enjoy the read ♡

Love can make you do crazy things.  

Sometimes it’s a silly behavior that you exhibit, one that isn’t akin to your usual self, one that makes you a bit of a fool. 

You find yourself taking detours to “accidentally” bump into someone. Your heart races at the sight of them, and you disguise your longing behind an awkward ‘What a coincidence!’, but what you really mean is ‘I really wanted to see you! I couldn’t stay away.’ It’s harmless — charming, even. 

But what happens when love blooms where it shouldn’t? When it takes root in poisoned soil, nurtured by secrecy and betrayal — can it still be called innocent? When the heart wants what it shouldn’t, when desire threatens to unravel lives and twist fates — is it still harmless? Still endearing? 

No. The fool knows better — but doesn’t care. 

Blinded by love, reason is cast aside. Judgment dulls. Morality slips through desperate fingers. The choices no longer belong to conscience; they belong to longing. 

Science says that falling in love mimics a drug high — dopamine rushes, rational thought hijacked, impulse overrides consequence. You become addicted. You crave. And in that craving, you’d do anything to have it. No matter the cost. 

-- 

The air in the room is thick. With the windows shut, the scent of sex lingers — trapped between the four walls of the hotel room, clinging to your skin and his. Your bodies lie tangled, worn out and still close. 

“Nobody saw you come in, right?” the whitehaired man beside you breaks the silence, voice low but tender. His breathing has steadied, back to its usual calm rhythm. 

You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his damp chest. His hand, which had been trailing lazily along your bare back, moves up to cradle your neck — gentle, almost instinctive. Like he’s trying to spare you any discomfort, even now. It makes you smile, the way he always trembles for you. 

“No, no one saw me”, you murmur. “It’s not like this is the first time.” 

“It’s the first time since you got married”, he replies, his tone quieter, more guarded. 

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you let out a feeble laugh. “Nothing’s changed, really — except now we’re both married...” the smile on your lips slowly fades. Your lips part, more words caught behind them. 

...not to each other though — you want to say, but you don’t. You don’t want to break the moment. It’s been too long since you last had this. 

“Actually”, he trails off, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. 

At times like this, you’re reminded, again, how large he is. He barely shifts beneath you, just stretches one arm to grab the pack, the other still wrapped around your waist. He lights a cigarette with practiced ease, tucks it between his lips, and inhales deeply.  

“There’s one thing that has changed”, he says, smoke curling from his mouth. 

“Oh?” 

“I see you every day now.” 

A faint smile touches his lips, softening his blue eyes. He kisses the top of your head, gaze lingering on you. 

That’s right. You do see each other every day now. It’s the consequence of living under the same roof. 

“But even so, moments like this... they’ve become rare. That bothers me.” 

The warmth leaves his voice. His eyes grow distant, pale and cold. “Seems like he is keeping you too busy. Maybe he’s starting to like you.” he speaks in a dull voice. 

“You think so?” 

“He’s around the house more, with you. He used to be gone all the time. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” His tone hardens. “He wasn’t supposed to act like this.” 

You let out a dry, uneasy chuckle. “Maybe he’s taking after you. Maybe I bewitched him... just like I bewitched you.” 

You don’t mean it. It’s just a tease, but the words land wrong.  

“Don’t joke about it”, he mutters, exhaling sharply. His brows furrow, tension creeping back into his features. “That’d be... problematic.” 

The man beside you is Gojo Akihito — your lover. The former head of the Gojo Clan. He is also the father of your husband. The current head of the clan — Gojo Satoru. 

...you only meant to lighten the mood. But just like his plan —  

It’s not working. 

-- 

Rumor has it: The clan head, Gojo Satoru, is completely enamored with his wife. 

It has become the talk of the mansion.  

“Did you see”, one maid whispers, nudging her colleague as they set the long dining table. “He brought her flowers, again.” 

“That’s nothing”, another chimes in, lowering her voice. “The other day he asked me how to make omurice. Said he wanted to learn it properly.” 

The first two maids lean in, wide-eyed. “And? What happened?” 

“I went into the kitchen early next morning”, she continues with a conspiratorial grin, “And there he was. Apron and everything. Cooking omurice from scratch. Said it was for his wife. Even served it on a fancy plate — with flowers from the garden. I think he picked them himself.” 

The maids collectively gasp, hands covering mouths, eyes sparkling. 

“He’s completely smitten”, one sighs, nearly swooning. “I heard he turned down every arranged match before her — didn’t even consider them. Then out of nowhere, he agrees to this one without a second thought.” 

“At first, I figured he just caved from the pressure”, another adds. “You know how the elders kept pushing. I thought he married her to shut them up.” 

“But now? Look at him. That’s not obligation. That’s a man in love.” 

A round of dreamy sighs circles the table. 

“Remember how he used to show up maybe once every couple of months? Only if something serious needed his attention?” 

“Now we see him every day”, one nods. “And if he’s not home, it feels... weird.” 

“He always comes back”, says another. “No matter how late. And the first thing he does is go see her.” 

“That’s not all”, the first maid says, lowering her voice even more. “The other day, he came home with a wound.” 

“No way. Him?” one of the others gasps. “He’s untouchable — who even got close enough to land a hit?” 

“Exactly. And do you know what he did? He let her clean him up. She asked for the first aid kit, and he just... smiled. The whole time. Like it didn’t hurt at all.” 

A chorus of quiet squeals follows, full of awe and disbelief. 

“He let himself be struck just so she’d fuss over him?” one whispers, covering her mouth. “God, he’s hopeless.” 

But before the fantasy could grow any richer, a sharp voice cuts through the air. 

“If you’re done gossiping”, Akihito says coolly from the doorway, “Perhaps you could focus on the work you’re actually being paid to do. Call everyone when dinner is ready.” 

The maids freeze, spines straightening, heads bowing in rapid succession. “Y-yes, sir. Our apologies.” 

Akihito didn’t linger. He didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t their chatter that irritated him. It was what they were whispering about. What they were seeing — what he couldn’t ignore. That’s what got under his skin. 

--  

“Good evening, wife.” 

You blink at the mirror just as a bouquet of forget-me-nots is gently laid in front of you on the vanity. Satoru leans in behind you, his reflection appearing over your shoulder, smiling. “You look beautiful, as always.” he murmurs against your ear. 

You shift slightly in your chair, but his hands land softly on your shoulders, holding you in place — not forcefully, but firmly enough to suggest he’s not letting you leave just yet.  

“Want me to brush your hair?” 

You sigh and meet his eyes in the mirror. “I can do it myself.” 

“I know”, he says smoothly. “But I want to.” 

Persistent. That’s one thing you’ve learned about him in the month you’ve been married — Satoru always gets what he wants. If you said no now, you wouldn’t put it past him to slip gum into your hair just so you’d have to ask for help. 

Just like he did with your slippers. 

He wanted to put them on for you one morning — for no reason other than his own mischief, you’re sure — but you refused. Later, fresh out of the shower, they were gone. All of them. Every pair. Oh no, we’re out of slippers! Guess I’ll just carry you — he said with that shameless grin of his. And he did. Said the floor was too cold. Couldn’t let his wife get sick, after all. He carried you around the house all morning. Then, right before leaving to run some errands together, he knelt, slipped your shoes on like some smug prince, and you let him — half amused, half annoyed. 

The bastard always wins. 

“Fine”, you relent now, sitting back. 

“Don’t worry”, he says, picking up the brush. “I’ll be gentle.” 

So far, nothing about this marriage has matched what Akihito told you. It was supposed to be nothing more than a formality. He reassured you countless times that his son would not even glance at you — let alone lay a hand on you; that you would probably just see him just once, on your wedding day, and that would be the end of it. But so far, Akihito was wrong about everything. 

He’s never home, huh? — You see him every day. 

He won’t touch you, huh? — Then why does he look for every excuse to be close? Going as far as to get himself injured on purpose and come back without healing himself so you’ll tend to him... Why does he always find a reason to touch your arm, your hand, your back? Why... Maybe, he wants to get in your pants? That must be it... right? Why else would he try so hard to make things work? It’s not like you two married out of love. You could’ve just quietly existed as his wife on paper; he certainly doesn’t have to bother making you an actual part of his life. 

Sure, he is a huge tease. But it’s not the annoying kind. It’s... disarming. You hate to admit it, but there’s something about him. A pull. A quiet magnetism that makes you want to lean in instead of pull away. And sometimes, you forget — forget why you came to be his wife in the first place, that this was never meant to be more than convenience serving the purposes of a scandalous affair. 

Until you remember. Until you look at him and see shadows of Akihito — the resemblance too striking to ignore. A younger version of the man who changed everything for you. 

You sigh, unable to keep your thoughts from wandering. 

“Did I hurt you?”, Satoru asks, suddenly pausing mid-stroke. 

You glance at his reflection. For just a second, there’s something soft in his expression. Worry. “No”, you say. “Just thinking.” 

“About?” 

He continues brushing, careful not to let the bristles graze your skin. Instead, his hand absorbs the pressure — the motion surprisingly tender. Then his hand drops. Light fingertips brush your neck. Two fingers lift your chin, tilting your head back until your eyes meet. “Thinking about someone else while I’m this close to you?” he asks, brows furrowed. His tone is calm, but the edge in it isn’t playful. It’s sharp. Serious. 

“Jealous?” you smirk, trying to deflect. 

He places the brush down and leans in. His head hovering over yours. There’s barely any distance left. When you both breathe out a veil of warm air falls and fills the tiny gap left between your faces. “Very”, he says quietly, his face deprived of the usual grin. “Makes me want to do terrible things to the man in your thoughts.” He’s not joking. Not even a little. 

“I was thinking about you, actually”, you reply. It’s not technically a lie.  

Not accustomed to such intimate closeness with him, heat starts to spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat acting peculiarly too. The nearness is too much. You share a bed, yes — but neither of you has ever dared cross the middle. Not yet. Why beat so fast suddenly, heart? Must be the fact he’s looming over you like this that is making you uncomfortable. Trying to break the tension, you joke. “If you’re planning on doing terrible things to yourself, make sure you don’t die. I’d hate to be widowed so young.” 

His expression falters. For a second, you see it — genuine surprise. It’s satisfying. He blinks, once, twice, head pulling back slightly, fingers at your jaw trembling with something unspoken. But it doesn’t last. He recovers quickly. 

A breathy laugh escapes him as he leans in again. “You were thinking about me? What, something dirty?” 

You scoff. “You wish.” 

“I do”, he replies instantly. “And don’t worry — you’ll get there soon enough.” 

The audacity. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll get there”, you shoot back. He grins, guiding your face back toward the mirror. “If you can’t see it up close...” He taps the glass. “Just look there. I’m kind of a masterpiece.” 

“The only piece you are is a piece of work”, you mutter, turning your head with a huff, your hair brushing against his face. You expect a quip in return. But he goes still. Sniffs. 

“Hmm... What’s that smell?” He leans closer, nose buried briefly in your hair. “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

You freeze. Akihito’s cigarettes. You didn’t wash your hair after the hotel. Damn it. 

“I don’t”, you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” 

“I was with a friend earlier. She smokes. Maybe that’s why.” you lie. 

Satoru watches you carefully through the mirror. “Good. You shouldn’t smoke”, he says at last, straightening up. “My wife has to live a long life. With me.” A smile tugs at his lips. A playful smirk, back to normal. 

You try to summon a sharp retort. Something clever. But all you manage is a tight, fake smile as your heart thunders in your chest. You were almost caught. 

Then— 

Knock-knock. 

“Dinner is ready, sir. Madam.” one of the maids calls from outside. 

“Hai-hai~”, Satoru casually yells out. “We’ll be down in a minute.” 

-- 

The dining room is too quiet. The kind of quiet that isn’t peace, but tension — stretched thin between the four people who sit on the table. It makes the softest sounds feel sharp. Or maybe it’s just in your head, considering the situation. 

It’s tradition, apparently — whenever everyone is home, meals are eaten together. Your least favorite part of the day. Understandably so, given the circumstances: you willingly put yourself here, fully aware you’d be sitting across from the woman whose husband you’re secretly sleeping with, and beside the son you’re technically cheating on — with his father. 

You sit beside your husband, Satoru. Across from you, Akihito — your lover, your secret. Next to him is Saori, your lover’s wife and husband’s mother — regal and silent, her expression unreadable as always, like she’s wearing a careful mask. 

No one speaks when the food is served. Just the mechanical act of eating, a silence that presses against your ribs like guilt. Your appetite has all but vanished since becoming the bride of the Gojo Clan, your stomach perpetually knotted with remorse. Sometimes even water feels repulsive. You often catch yourself wondering why you’re even doing this. Is it really love? You begin to question the choice you made, weighing it with a heaviness that never seems to lift. 

Then, as always, the silence shatters. Satoru reaches over, casual as anything, and plucks a bite of greens from your plate with his chopsticks. “Yours always taste better”, he grins, dropping them in his mouth. “Must be the way you chew”, he says with a mouthful.  

A small, soft laugh escapes you before you can catch it. There he goes with his silly antics again, you think. He somehow always knows how to tug you out of your head, whether you want him to or not. 

Akihito’s chopsticks pause mid-motion. His eyes narrow, barely, but you feel the weight of it. “Interesting”, he says, voice low and smooth, but with a faint edge. “I thought you never touched your greens.” 

Satoru doesn’t look away from you as he chews, slow and deliberate. “Tastes change.” 

The air thins. You take a sip of wine to steady your hands and avoid meeting Akihito’s eyes. You can feel them — heavy, disapproving, and not very kind. 

“They do”, Akihito replies after a moment, setting his chopsticks down with a soft click. “Although not always for the better.”  

You want to look at him, to read what he’s really thinking — but you don’t dare. Sometimes it feels like even a glance might betray you. Especially now, as Satoru shifts slightly in his seat, angling himself subtly closer to you, as if rising to meet some unspoken challenge. 

“I suppose it depends”, Satoru says lightly, the smile still playing on his lips. “Sometimes, watching someone savor something — it can spark a craving in you too.” He smiles at you then — softly — and something flutters in your chest that has no business being there. Then, he adds, with just enough weight to sharpen the air again. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, old man? How tastes change over time.” 

You freeze, just for a moment. Akihito doesn’t blink. His tone stays dry, his face unreadable. “Was there a point to that?” 

Satoru leans back slightly. “Just that, at your age, I’d expect you to be less surprised when people... shift.” 

Across from you, Saori finally lifts her wine glass. She doesn’t drink — not yet — but she swirls the red liquid slowly, her gaze shifting from father to son like she’s watching something she’s already seen before. They clash often, you’ve noticed. Not loudly, not outright — but it’s always there. A push and pull beneath the surface, a cold war of words and glances. 

Sometimes, you wonder if Satoru knows about the affair. He says things — subtle, but cutting — that make you pause, that make you think he might be more aware than he lets on. Maybe that’s why he’s pursuing you so intently — just to prove a point to his father. But then, there are moments when his gaze softens when he looks at you, when his touch lingers just a second too long. He goes out of his way every day just to be near you. And in those moments, it feels too sincere to be a game. You start to think he might actually mean it. That he’s not just chasing you out of spite — but because he truly wants you. 

You reach for your own glass again, taking another sip of wine, as if it might wash away the tension thickening by the second. But it doesn’t. Setting the glass back down, your hand lingers at its base. Your fingers brush against Satoru’s hand that rests on the table between you two. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, his pinky curls beneath yours — just enough to be felt, not seen. You don’t pull away. You know Akihito sees it. You feel it. The tick in his jaw is barely visible, but you notice it. 

“I’ve been seeing you around way more frequently, Satoru. I hope marriage hasn’t dulled your focus”, he says, his voice smooth and pointed. “There are more important things than... comfort.” 

The irony, you think. The words sound like a joke to you, coming from the same man who orchestrated your marriage just to keep you closer and see you more freely. You barely manage to swallow a scoff. 

Satoru leans back in his chair, unfazed. “You’d be surprised”, he says lightly. “Sometimes comfort is the only thing keeping people from falling apart.”  

“It’s rare”, Saori speaks at last, “to see affection in this house. Perhaps we shouldn’t discourage it.” Her words are gentle, kind — at least, on the surface. But they carry the weight of something unspoken, a quiet complaint from a woman who has never been loved by her husband — not in the way a lover is. 

The silence that follows is anything but gentle. Her words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy, like the last note of a song no one knows how to follow. No one speaks. Not right away. You watch Akihito, wondering if he’ll respond — if he even knows how. But his expression remains unreadable, carved from habit more than emotion. Then, without looking at anyone in particular, he speaks, as if the comment never touched him at all. “I meant to tell you”, Akihito says, cutting through the quiet like a blade, “The elders requested a meeting with you tomorrow morning.” 

Satoru’s glass of water stills halfway to his lips. “Can’t”, he says casually. “I’m taking my wife out.” 

You blink. That’s the first you’ve heard of it. 

Akihito’s expression doesn’t change, but the muscle in his jaw tightens — just once, sharply — as he exhales through his nose. “You can reschedule”, he says. “The clan elders don’t appreciate being made to wait.” 

Satoru shrugs. “Neither does she.” He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, but the weight of it presses into your ribs like heat. 

The silence that follows is tight, full of things no one says. Saori watches Akihito this time, her gaze sharp as cut glass. Her husband is acting odd. And she notices everything. 

--  

Gojo Akihito was a man carved from discipline. Now in his late fifties, he was a figure both respected and quietly feared. When he entered a room, silence followed. Backs straightened. Conversations halted. People instinctively adjusted their posture — as if simply being in his presence demanded their best. His presence was weighty, not in a menacing way, but with a gravity that commanded reverence. His name alone held power — spoken softly, carefully, like it belonged to someone who mattered more than most. And he did. Shaped by the will of the elders, Akihito had been molded into the ideal head of the Gojo Clan: composed, unwavering, and dutiful. Obedience had been stitched into his bones from childhood. He was taught not to dream, but to serve. To lead with strength and never stray from what was expected. 

His path had been set before he could walk it — become strong, inherit the clan, marry a chosen wife, produce an heir. And he did. His talents bloomed early. Power came easily to him, and with it, authority. He married Saori, a woman selected by the elders, and fulfilled his role without resistance. Love was never part of the arrangement — but respect was. Even in the absence of affection, he treated her with dignity. They never became lovers — much to Saori’s quiet sorrow, for she had loved him from the very beginning. After they conceived Satoru, he never touched her again. As if it had been part of a duty — fulfilled, then forgotten. 

When he stepped down and passed the title of clan head to his son, Akihito did not fade quietly into the background. His voice still carried weight, often more so than of the current leader. To many, he remained the pillar of the clan. The rock. Unmoving. Unshakeable. Dependable. But even stone erodes, given time. Even the strongest man can change. Even a rock, under enough heat — can melt. 

-- 

Akihito wasn’t supposed to be here. The streets were too narrow, too loud, brimming with color and life in a way that felt foreign to him. He was meant to be elsewhere, at a meeting across town — another empty ritual of clan maintenance. But his driver took a wrong turn, and instead of rerouting, Akihito had stepped out, needing a walk. Needing air. Needing space from the weight that always clung to his shoulders. That’s when he saw you. 

At first, it was nothing. You were just a figure in the crowd — young, distracted, smiling faintly at your phone, coffee in hand. But something about you… stopped him. You passed by without noticing him, and the moment stretched too long. Something about you felt familiar, though he couldn’t place why. A detail misplaced in time. A memory from a life he never lived. He turned — just slightly. Just enough to watch you go. You entered a nearby café tucked between cramped buildings. Small. A little worn. Too cozy, too youthful for someone like him. He should have kept walking. But he followed you inside. He told himself it was curiosity. That he needed a moment to sit, make a call, kill time. But deep down, even then, he knew. He picked a seat in the corner. Three tables away from you. 

He returned the next day. And the next. It was irrational. Dangerous. He wasn’t the kind of man who indulged temptations. His life had been a masterclass in restraint — each step measured, each emotion disciplined out of existence. But you… You sat in the same spot each day, sipping a drink, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring out the window with that faraway look that seemed to see something no one else could. He wondered what you saw. He wondered what you wanted. He wondered what it would feel like to be the thing you looked at that way.  And he hated himself for it. 

You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know that the man sitting a few tables away had once been the most powerful figure in one of Japan’s oldest sorcerer clans. That he had blood on his hands and responsibilities that still echoed through every inch of his life. You didn’t know that his marriage was nothing more than a political alignment. That he had followed every rule. Sacrificed every selfish urge. That he had never, in over fifty years, been in love. Not until now. 

On the third day, he stopped resisting and made a decision. He stood up, walked to your table, and asked — “May I sit?” 

-- 

Three tables. He was sitting three tables away from you — again. Just like yesterday. And the day before that. Today made the third. 

You’d noticed him immediately. How could you not? Tall, impeccably dressed, white hair, broad shoulders, and unmistakably refined. You guessed he was in his fifties, but he wore it well — almost too well. Dressed in a designer suit, he looked out of place in this cozy, slightly run-down café filled with students and twenty-somethings. Yet, there he was. 

Each time you stole a glance, he was gazing out the window, never once meeting your eyes. But something about him — his presence, the stillness in the way he sat, the ghost of a smile on his lips — kept drawing your attention. Maybe you were imagining things. But, perhaps, was he there… for you? Just as you started telling yourself it was all in your head, he moved. Ah, he’s leaving— 

No — he wasn’t. He was walking toward you. 

Your breath caught. Your eyes widened as he came to a stop at your table. 

“May I sit?” he asked, voice smooth but low, as if careful not to disturb the air between you. You blinked, pulse rising. “Why here?” you asked, managing a dry smile. “There are plenty of other tables, including the one you’ve been using for the past few days.” You motioned toward his old table. “I like the view better from here,” he replied calmly, and took the seat without waiting for permission. 

The view, of course, was you. He had resisted the pull for two days. But today, Gojo Akihito gave in. In his fifties, for the first time in his life — he fell in love. And for the first time… he broke a rule. 

-- 

He didn’t touch you. Not for weeks. Not inappropriately, not even in passing. His interest was always wrapped in respect, laced with a restraint that was somehow more intoxicating than overt desire. He spoke little, but with purpose. He listened like it was sacred. Asked questions no one else had ever bothered to. You told yourself it was harmless. That you liked the attention he was giving you. That you weren’t doing anything wrong… with a married man. It’s just a connection — nothing more. But the way he looked at you… like you were something precious, something rare, he had no right to touch but desperately wanted to — it stirred something in you. 

When he kissed you for the first time, it wasn’t impulse. It was quiet. Measured. Like a man saying a prayer before stepping into hell. And you let him. After that, the pretense faded. You started meeting behind closed doors…  

You were in love, yes. Or maybe, looking back now, you only thought you were. Not the way he was. You were free, while Akihito was chained to a life he could never escape. The deeper Akihito sank into you, the more you floated above him. Untethered. Capable of leaving. And that was what terrified him the most. He needed something stronger — something permanent — to bind you to him. 

One year into your affair, Akihito proposed something unthinkable. 

“An arranged marriage?” you gasped, your voice cracking in disbelief. “To your son?” You tried to push away from him, stepping out of the bathtub, but he caught your wrist and pulled you back in. 

“I miss you too much when you’re away”, he murmured against your shoulder. His breath was hot. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you close, anchoring you to him in the steaming water. “Not knowing when I’ll see you again — it’s unbearable. And knowing it won’t be tomorrow? I hate that.” 

You sat between his legs, your bare back pressed to his chest, steam rising around you like a veil. His head dipped to the curve of your neck. You said nothing. Your lips trembled with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, with a sob that didn’t quite leave your throat. 

You spoke every day. But meetings were rare. Always discreet. Always in motion. Hotels changed with every rendezvous. Different rooms, different names, different times of arrival. You booked separate rooms but only ever used one. Because what you shared was a scandal. And the walls, anywhere, could talk. He was the former head of the Gojo Clan. A public man. A married man. And in the Gojo Clan, divorce was taboo. Unspoken but absolute. Marriage ended only with death. 

“It’s madness”, you whispered. “You’d just… hand me over to another man like that?” 

“I’m not handing you over”, he said, voice low and tired. “It’ll be just on paper. You know what Satoru’s like — he’s obsessed with his work. Sorcery is the only thing he’s ever cared about. He won’t touch you.” He paused. He knew how it sounded. But to him, it made sense. He was convinced this was the best way to keep you close. Satoru, as far as Akihito knew, had no interest in romance, no time for love. If you married his son, your place in the clan would be secured — and so would your bond to him. Even if you tried to leave him one day, you’d still be part of his world. Divorce, after all, was never an option. “Think about it”, he continued. “We’d be able to see each other more freely. People wouldn’t question it if we were spotted together — we’d be family. It would raise fewer suspicions than what we’re doing now.” 

You stared into the steam, into nothing. “...fine.” You caved. 

Neither of you knew then just how flawed the plan truly was. The flaw had a name: Gojo Satoru. 

-- 

Back in your shared bedroom, you close the door behind you and turn to face Satoru. He’s already tugging off his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. You squint at him, arms crossed. “What was that earlier?” He pauses, one sock halfway off. “Hm?” He looks up at you, eyebrow arched in that maddeningly innocent way. 

“‘I’m taking my wife out’”, you echo flatly. “We made no such plans.” 

He chuckles — a low, amused sound. “Ah. That.” Straightening up, he begins rolling his sleeves to the elbows, wandering toward the bed. “I was too distracted by your beauty when I got home, I must’ve forgotten to tell you.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me what exactly?” 

“That everyone wants to meet you”, he says, as if it’s obvious. 

“Everyone?” you eye him. 

“My students. My colleagues. Most of them think I made up this whole marriage thing just for attention.” He grins like it’s the most absurd idea in the world. “So tomorrow, you’re coming with me. I need to show them that my wife is, in fact, a very real, very stunning person~” 

You blink. “So you didn’t just blurt it out to get out of meeting the elders?” 

He scoffs and flops onto the bed, arms behind his head. “Please. I don’t need an excuse to avoid them. I’ll meet them when I feel like it — not when they demand it.” Of course he would say that. “Besides”, he adds lazily, “I figured we could hang out a little after. Grab a bite or go somewhere. A proper date.” 

You stare at him. “A date?” — “Yeah”, he shoots. “You know, two people spending time together on purpose because they want to?” 

“Satoru”, you sigh, “you don’t have to bother with this kind of thing. This is an arranged marriage, let me remind you. We’re not... required to play house.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mock curiosity. “Who said couples in arranged marriages can’t go on dates? That’s a rule now? If it is, I must’ve missed the fine print.” 

He’s relentless — in a strangely charming way. Always pushing, always poking. And the worst part is... he knows you don’t exactly hate it. You glance away, shaking your head. “Alright”, you say finally, “fine” — and he immediately beams like he’s just won something. And maybe he has — in his own strange way. Satoru doesn’t need much to feel victorious. But there’s something you have noticed — how a yes from you is usually worth a trophy in his world, even if you offer it begrudgingly. 

You watch him for a moment, unsure what to make of the warmth blooming quietly in your chest. It’s not love. It can’t be. Right? But it’s something. A softening, maybe. A flicker of possibility. Your fingers absently toy with the edge of your sleeve. That strange flutter you’ve been ignoring — the one he keeps coaxing out of you — is getting harder to deny. What exactly are you doing? — you ask yourself. 

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out quickly and glance down at the screen. 

Akihito: Come to the guest house. 

Just like that, reality presses its weight back onto your shoulders. It doesn’t look like Satoru noticed anything, but your hands are already closing the message, hiding the screen like a child caught with stolen sweets. “I’m going to the kitchen”, you say, too quickly. “I want something sweet.” 

Satoru sits up a little. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get—” 

“No.” You cut him off, maybe too fast. “I’m not sure what I want yet, so I’ll just look around.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment. Something unreadable flickers there — brief, sharp, gone too fast. Then he leans back on his hands, still smiling. “Alright, my picky little bride. Don’t be long.” 

You force a light laugh and slip out the door. 

-- 

Akihito hears your knock — light, familiar — before the door opens. You’re still in your dinner clothes, but your hair is looser now, lipstick faded. You look comfortable, relaxed — and he does not exactly like that. You step quietly, and he lets you come to him without saying a word. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

He looks somewhat tense, but the air between you is still warm with memory — earlier today, your skin beneath his hands, your lips murmuring his name into a hotel pillow. And yet. “I’m sorry for calling you over like this”, he says finally, his voice low. “I just needed to see you.” 

You smile faintly. “You saw me at dinner.” 

“Not like this.” His eyes search yours. “Not alone. Not without... him.” 

You stiffen slightly — not defensively. Just aware. Akihito gestures to the seat beside him. You sit.

“He’s not the same”, he murmurs after a pause. “Satoru. He’s changing.” 

You don’t respond at first. You fold your hands in your lap. 

“You know what he used to be like? Detached. Cold. Always disappearing on missions. He never gave a damn about what anyone thought of him — never entertained sentiment. And now?” He scoffs softly. “Flowers. Cooking. Holding your hand under the table like some infatuated schoolboy...” 

Your mouth opens — then closes. You can’t find the right words. 

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. “At dinner. The way he looks at you.” 

Your gaze falters. Not guilty — not quite — but cautious. “He’s just playing the part, Aki”, you say eventually. “He’s always been theatrical.” 

Akihito shakes his head. “No. That wasn’t an act.” There’s no bitterness in his voice. No anger. Just... disbelief. Like he’s watching something slip through his fingers that he didn’t expect to lose. “Before you came into his life, he never stayed home. Never cared about meals or traditions or people. He never had time for anything... personal.” 

You look down. 

Akihito studies your profile, as if memorizing it. The curve of your brow, the slope of your cheek. “I know I’m the one who suggested this arrangement”, he says, and his voice is more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I told myself it was the best way to keep you close. Safe. But now...” He trails off. 

You reach out, take his hand in yours. “I’m still yours, Aki”, you say gently. “You know that.” 

“I want to believe that”, he murmurs. You squeeze his hand. “You can.” 

But your voice falters, just slightly. Just enough for him to notice. His eyes flick up to your face. There’s no accusation in them. Only fear. The quiet, creeping kind that lives under the surface of a man who’s spent a lifetime being in control. 

“I know he’s not you”, you add softly. “I know why I said yes to this. You don’t have to worry.” 

Akihito nods slowly. But his silence stretches too long. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your hair. Grateful. Reassured — or trying to be. But the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if the threat is outside of what you have... or is growing inside it. 

-- 

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite”, Satoru chuckles, watching you fidget with your sleeves like you’re about to walk into a job interview. You shoot him a dry look. “You say that like you’re not the worst of them.” 

“Me? I’m the warm-up act. They are the terrifying ones”, he teases, nodding toward the lounge room door. You roll your eyes but don’t stop playing with your cuffs. 

“You’ll be fine”, he adds, nudging your elbow gently. “Just flash that charming smile and pretend I’m not hovering behind you like a lovesick fool.” 

“You are hovering.” 

“I’m setting the scene”, he grins. “For dramatic effect.” 

You scoff. “I’m not scared, you know.” 

“Of course not”, he nods solemnly. “You’re just fidgeting because you’re excited to meet my fan club.” You shoot him a sideways glare. He leans over, voice lowering just a touch. “They’re going to love you”, he says, softer now. “They’ve never seen me with someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” 

“Someone who makes me behave.” 

You don’t get the chance to press him on that. He throws the door open before you can respond — and the room instantly freezes. Chairs creak to a halt. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. All heads turn. A spoon hovers midair. A can of soda stops halfway to someone’s lips. Even the air feels like it’s holding its breath. And all of it — every flicker of curiosity, disbelief, and blatant awe — is aimed squarely at you. 

“Guys”, Satoru announces, all flair and no shame, “This is my wife. Try not to scare her off.” You manage a composed smile, offering a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The reactions come in like dominos. 

Yuuji blinks so fast he looks like a malfunctioning cartoon. “She’s real. She’s actually real.”

Nobara lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. How is he married to her?” 

“There’s definitely something wrong with her”, Megumi mutters, arms crossed.

“Blink twice if you’re being held hostage”, Maki deadpans without missing a beat.

Even stoic Shoko lifts her eyebrows, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. “I genuinely thought he made you up.”

Ijichi bows at the waist, glasses fogged slightly from the tea steam. “Gojo-san speaks of you often. I assumed it was... metaphorical.” Nanami says absolutely nothing. Just closes his eyes and exhales, a slow, pained breath that says this is beneath me, but also of course this is happening. 

Meanwhile, Geto is the picture of calm. Reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, he simply smirks and raises his hand in greeting. “About time you dragged her here, Satoru.” 

“Don’t encourage him”, Nanami mutters without opening his eyes. 

You can’t help it — you laugh. A light, genuine thing that breaks the awkward spell in the room like shattering glass. The tension in your chest uncoils slightly, and Satoru beams beside you. 

“Oh god”, Nobara groans. “Even her laugh is gorgeous. This is unbelievable.” 

“Do you need help?” Megumi asks again, completely serious.

“She’s under some kind of spell, huh?” Yuuji whispers. “Do we do something? Help her?” 

“No need to rescue her”, Satoru says smugly. “She married me willingly” 

“That’s even worse”, Nanami mutters. 

“You guys are insufferable”, you finally say, smiling despite yourself. 

“You’re perfect for him then”, Shoko hums. 

“Alright, alright, don’t scare her off on her first visit”, Geto says, rising from the couch. He strolls over, offering his hand. “I’m Suguru. Satoru’s better half.” 

“Hey!” Satoru protests. 

You shake Geto’s hand. “Pleasure.” 

“It really is”, he replies smoothly. “Though we may have to talk about your taste in men.” 

“I’ve made peace with it”, you reply with a smirk. The room erupts into scattered chuckles. Even Megumi snorts. Satoru clutches his chest. “I feel so betrayed.” 

“Get in line”, Nanami mutters again. 

“Come on”, Geto waves you over. “Sit. Eat something. Let us dissect your personality in peace.” As you move to join them, Satoru’s hand brushes your lower back — a barely-there touch. Protective. Familiar. You glance at him. He’s still smiling like the sun — blinding and hard to read beneath the surface.  

You ease yourself into a spot between Suguru and Satoru on the long couch. Plates and cups shift around. The lounge settles into casual chaos again, but it’s warmer now — less like scrutiny, more like curious acceptance. As conversations spark up around you, you feel it — a brush at your side. Subtle, deliberate. Satoru’s hand slides across the space between you on the couch. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even look your way. But under the table, his fingers quietly reach for yours. At first, you don’t respond. The chatter of the room covers the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. It feels like everyone might notice, even though no one’s looking. And still — slowly — your fingers curl around his. 

You glance sideways at him. He’s still grinning and bickering with Geto about who’s ageing better — but there’s a flicker in his eyes when they meet yours. Something warm. Something that longs. And Satoru doesn’t look like he’s letting go of your hand anytime soon. 

-- 

Even after leaving the school and walking toward the car, Satoru hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. And, truthfully, you haven’t tried to pull away either. His hand is warm and steady, fingers loosely laced with yours like it’s always been this natural. “They’re very chaotic”, you say as you walk side by side, the late afternoon sun painting golden highlights into his white hair. “But adorably so.” 

Satoru gasps. “How come you never say that about me?” 

“I do say you’re chaotic.” 

“Not that part”, he pouts, dragging your hand slightly as he walks. “Say I’m adorable too.”

You glance up at him with a smirk. “Why make me lie now?” 

He clutches his chest like you just wounded him. “Unbelievable. And here I was, thinking we were having a romantic moment.” 

“You pouted like a toddler five seconds ago. That was the opposite of romantic.” 

“That was endearing, thank you very much.” He sighs dramatically, unlocking the car with a flick of his keys. “One day you’ll realize just how lucky you are to have married me.”

You chuckle. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” 

As the engine hums to life and the radio kicks in with something mellow, he steals a glance at you. “You liked them, though?”

You nod. “They’re all... a lot. But in a good way. I liked them. They like you, too — though it’s hilarious how some of them thought I was a figment of your imagination at first.” 

“That’s fair”, he shrugs. “Even I sometimes think you’re too good to be real.” You don’t reply to that — partly because it’s sweet, partly because it makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to admit. 

-- 

Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, Satoru pulls the car up near a quiet park tucked into a tree-lined stretch of the city. It’s not crowded, the evening air is crisp, and the swings creak gently in the breeze. 

“A date doesn’t have to be complicated”, he says, hands behind his head, strolling beside you. “This used to be my favorite spot when I ditched meetings.”

You laugh. “What a responsible clan head.” 

“Oh, terribly irresponsible”, he agrees proudly. “Now — race you to the swings!”

You both make a break for it, laughing as your shoes hit gravel. You get there first, narrowly beating him (because he let you), and triumphantly claim the left swing. Satoru sits on the other — except, the chains creak loudly as he settles in, clearly too tall and too big for the tiny seat. 

“God, you look ridiculous”, you say between laughs.

“Hey”, he grins. “Let me have my moment.” He tries to swing but his feet keep dragging on the ground. You get off and try to push him but fail spectacularly. “You’re too heavy!” you exclaim. He snorts. “I’m muscle and grace, I’ll have you know.” 

“Lift your legs then! That’s the only way this will work.” 

“If I lift my legs, the swing will snap and we’ll both die.”  

You dissolve into laughter, arms over your chest as you watch him try — and fail — to get any lift. “Hop off now”, you say. “It’s your turn to push me.”

He gets off, and you take over. He starts pushing you gently, and you find yourself relaxing, head tilted back toward the sky as you glide back and forth. You don’t notice how quiet he’s gone until the swing slows and you look back to find him watching you — softly, openly, with none of his usual teasing in sight. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. He shrugs. “You look happy. I like seeing you like this.” 

Your heart stumbles. And just like that, the real world catches up — Akihito, the marriage, the plan... Guilt prickles under your skin. You’re not supposed to feel this warm around Satoru. Not this content. He notices the shift in your eyes, tension in your smile. “Hey.” He walks in front of the swing, kneeling slightly to meet your gaze. “Where did you go just now?” 

You open your mouth — but you don’t know what to say. There’s too much. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling anymore. Satoru doesn’t push. He simply lifts a hand to brush your cheek with his knuckles, gentler than anyone would expect from a man like him. “If you’re scared”, he says, “I’ll wait. But I’m not stopping.” 

You should say something — anything — but you don’t. Instead, you lean forward without thinking. Just a little. Just enough. And he meets you halfway. You kiss. It’s soft. Uncomplicated. Barely a breath long — but enough to make your stomach flip and your thoughts scramble. You pull back just as fast, cheeks feeling hot, and suddenly shoot up to your feet. 

“I—uh—I’m going to head to the car”, you stammer, already backing away. “Give me fifteen minutes. Just... wait, okay? Don’t come right now.” Satoru blinks after you as you run off, flustered. A slow smile spreads across his lips. He lifts a hand, touching his fingers to where your lips met his. “Why shy away like this now?” he murmurs to himself, chuckling. “It’s not like this is our first kiss...” 

His smile lingers, a little softer now. Almost nostalgic. He watches the direction you went, lost in thought. Because only he remembers. You’ve kissed before. But back then, you didn’t know who he was. And you still don’t remember. 

-- 

Satoru remembers it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. The memory came rushing back the moment he saw your picture — the proposed match for the arranged marriage. The others in the room kept talking, formalities piling up like a tide of obligations, but he barely heard a word.  

It was you — the girl who stole his first kiss. The girl he never managed to find again. 

It happened years ago, sometime past midnight. He had just wrapped up a mission — a dull one, barely worth remembering — and was wandering the streets of Tokyo, eating red bean mochi with one hand and scrolling his phone with the other. Still in uniform, still buzzing from leftover cursed energy, still too wired to sleep. As he strolled past a row of late-night bars and clubs, the music leaked into the street like fog. Somewhere between neon signs and cigarette smoke, he spotted you — a girl slumped on the curb outside a nightclub, arms wrapped around your knees, head lolling sleepily to one side. You looked like you were dozing off. Alone. Vulnerable.  

He kept walking. At first. But something didn’t sit right. There were a few guys loitering nearby — drunk, leering, the kind of men that don’t need a reason to ruin someone’s night. One of them peeled away from the group and started approaching you, calling out something Satoru didn’t care to hear. He stopped at a vending machine, fingers patting his pockets as if he were looking for coins — but really, he was watching. Calculating. When the guy crouched beside you and reached out to brush your hair behind your ear, Satoru moved. Fast. “Sorry I took so long”, he said loudly, slinging his jacket over your shoulders in one smooth motion as he stepped between you and the stranger. 

The man froze. 

Satoru didn’t raise his voice, didn’t flare cursed energy — just looked at him. Cold. Unblinking. Dangerous. The guy got the message. “I was just making sure she was okay”, the creep stammered. 

“Yeah”, Satoru said flatly. “She is. Now leave.” He didn’t have to say it twice. Once the guys scurried off, Satoru crouched beside you, tilting his head. “Hey. Not a great place for a nap, you know?” You stirred, muttering something incoherent. “I’m serious”, he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “It’s not safe out here.” 

“Can’t walk”, you mumbled. “Not sure if I’m spinning, or everything else is.” 

He blinked. “That bad, huh?”

You squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“A kidnapper?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hmm”, you leaned your cheek against your knee. “Guess you’ll do.” 

Satoru stared. “What does that mean?” You reached and tugged his sleeve, and with surprising strength, pulled him to sit beside you. Then, without warning, you laid your head in his lap. “What are you—?” 

“You’re warm”, you sighed, nestling closer. “And you smell nice. But I kind of feel like throwing up.” 

“Please don’t”, he said instantly, trying not to panic. “This is my favorite outfit.” 

You giggled. “You’re funny.”

He looked down at you, at the way your hair fanned across his thighs, at the curve of your sleepy smile. “What are you even doing out here alone?” he asked. 

“I lost my friends”, you mumbled. “Or maybe they lost me. Who’s to say...” 

“You got a phone?” 

You held it up proudly. It was dead. “Perfect”, he sighed. 

Eventually, when it became clear you weren’t going to get up willingly, he gathered you into his arms and stood. “Alright, mystery girl. I’m getting you somewhere safe — where’s your place?” 

“Wait, wait”, you slurred, squinting suspiciously at him. “I don’t know you. I can’t just tell you where I live!” 

“You’re literally unconscious on the sidewalk and I’m carrying you like a bridal bouquet. I think we’re past that point.” 

You didn’t answer. Your head lolled onto his shoulder. He sighed, glanced around. He didn’t know your name, didn’t know where you lived — but you looked about college-aged, and the university campus wasn’t far. It was the best guess he had. So he started walking.  

Halfway there, a group of girls came jogging down the sidewalk, calling some name (yours). They looked frantic — until they saw you in his arms.  “Oh god”, one of them exhaled. “We’ve been looking for her everywhere!” 

They reached out to take you, but you lifted your head groggily, blinking at him like you’d just remembered he existed. You took off his sunglasses and placed them on his head, then cupped his face in both hands, surprisingly gentle. 

“You’re pretty”, you said. 

He blinked. 

Then you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and quick. “Thank you”, you whispered. “For keeping me warm.” 

And just like that, your friends pulled you away — you still wearing his jacket, him still too stunned to speak. He stood there long after you were gone, fingers pressed to his lips, dazed. “What a weird girl”, he muttered. 

But he’d already fallen for you. 

He tried to find you after that, of course — visited the area again, lingered by the campus, even asked around in his own way. But your name, your face... all of it had vanished like a dream after waking. Until years later — when he saw your photo again. And this time? He said yes without hesitation. 

-- 

The days begin to blend. Soft, warm mornings. Laughter over late breakfast. The rustle of flower petals against your cheek as you wake — a new habit Satoru’s picked up. You open your eyes to a fresh bouquet on your pillow, tied together with a silk ribbon and a folded note tucked inside. 

Roses are red, violets are blue, don’t open the curtains, I’m watching you ;)  S. 

You roll your eyes but smile. By now, your phone is full of messages from him — some voice notes, some texts. Some completely random, like: 

Voice message — 9:07 AM 

Hey, I found this stray cat that reminds me of you. They ignored me when I tried to pet them and just walked off. Thought that was kinda romantic~  

Text — 10:12 AM 

Do you miss me or are you pretending I don’t exist again? Be honest. I can take it. (Don’t be honest) 

Sometimes he’s halfway through a mission and still finds the time to send you a photo of some stupid little charm at a shrine that “looks cursed like you” — and by the time he returns home, you’ve forgotten how silence used to fill the rooms before he came. 

You start leaving notes back. Hiding snacks in his coat. One time, you sent him flowers — as a joke. A massive, bright pink bouquet delivered right to the faculty lounge at Jujutsu Tech. 

Yuuji nearly dropped his drink when he saw it. “Sensei, I thought you were the man in this relationship... but I guess you really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” 

Satoru beamed as he held the bouquet. “Listen, Yuuji, I think she’s got me on a leash. And honestly? I don’t mind it.” 

Geto didn’t even blink. “You’ve always liked being domesticated.” 

Nanami groaned in the distance. “Please take your romance outside school grounds.” 

Your life with him feels like a sitcom at times. Like you’ve somehow fallen into a slice-of-life version of your own story. And strangely, you don’t hate it.

But not all lives move at the same pace. 

Akihito watches it unfold from the shadows of his own silence. This was not part of the plan. You’re playing your role way too well to his liking. Are you humoring Satoru’s peculiar behavior for the sake of keeping the peace... or is there something more to it?

He feels the distance stretching. You reply to his messages slower now. When he calls, you sound distracted — not cold, just... somewhere else. Sometimes when he walks by your and Satoru’s room, he hears his son’s voice talking to you and it cuts deeper than he expects. Laughing. Teasing. Talking to you in a tone Akihito used to think was only his to use. 

He remembers your last few moments together, how they’ve been growing shorter. More careful. Your touches — once confident, rooted in secret familiarity — now come with hesitation. Like you’re aware of something new. Something blooming in the cracks you didn’t plan for. You were slipping. And for the first time in a very long time, Akihito doesn’t know what to do. 

He doesn’t confront you. He won’t. Because even now, he trusts you. Even now, he tells himself you would never betray him like that... But still — he’s left staring at the space beside him that used to be filled by you, fingers curled into fists he won’t raise, breathing through a storm he never thought he’d have to weather. 

--  

Evening settles softly across the room like a warm blanket. The lights are dim, casting a gentle golden hue over the shared bedroom you’ve both slowly grown used to — not just as a space, but as a kind of quiet haven. You sit on the bed with your knees tucked close to your chest, absently flipping through some old magazine you already checked out twice. Satoru is nearby, sprawled across the foot of the bed, fiddling with his phone but mostly stealing glances at you. The silence between you is easy now. Not empty, not awkward — just comfortable. 

Still, something hangs between you, unspoken but undeniably there. It’s been lingering ever since that kiss in the park. You haven’t kissed again since, but your touches linger longer now — a brush of fingers as you pass something to him, the slow curl of his hand around yours when you walk beside each other. Close, but careful. 

Tonight feels different. 

“Do you ever miss the chaos?” you ask, not looking up from the page. “Before we... whatever this is.” 

“Before we became a domestic power couple?” Satoru teases, stretching out with a dramatic sigh. “Tragic. I used to be wild. Now I fold your laundry.” You laugh. “You don’t fold my laundry.” 

“I would. For the record. If it meant you’d smile like that.”  

You glance at him now, and his expression softens when your eyes meet. The air changes. It’s in the way he shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. There’s something different in his gaze — not just affection, but hunger veiled by hesitance. You feel it too. That same flutter deep in your belly. The nervous kind. The kind that tastes like anticipation. He moves closer, slowly, watching you for any flicker of hesitation. When he reaches out, his fingers brush lightly along your jaw, his thumb barely skimming your cheek. You don’t move away.

“You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now”, you whisper.

He smiles, a little crooked, a little shy — rare, for him. “Yeah. I’ve been... trying to behave.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t speak. Satoru leans in, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slower than last time. Less impulsive. More reverent. His hand cups the back of your head gently as he pulls you closer, tasting your breath as if he’s been craving it every day since the last time. And then he pulls back. Breath shaky. Eyes shut. You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “Satoru? What are you doing?” 

He exhales a slow, uneven breath. “Waiting for you to slap me.”

You stare at him. That rare vulnerability in his voice knocks the breath right out of your lungs. “Why would I slap you?” 

“I didn’t ask. I didn’t warn you. I just... kissed you. Again. I told myself I’d wait until you wanted me.” 

You hesitate only for a heartbeat. Then, you lean forward and take his face in your hands, gently pulling him back into you. Your lips find his, and this time there’s no pause. No retreat. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize you. Every angle. Every sound you make. Your hands find their way under the hem of is shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin, and he shivers beneath your touch. You break the kiss long enough to whisper, “Come closer.”

His forehead rests against yours. “Only if you want me to.” 

“I do”, you breathe, voice trembling but sure. “I want this. I want you.” His arms tighten around you, and it’s slow, almost reverent, the way he lays you down — like you’re something sacred. Clothes are shed without urgency, and his hands trace the lines of your body like he’s reading scripture. The rest unfolds in quiet gasps and whispered names. It’s not just desire — it’s need. Familiar, frightening, warm... 

...when it’s over, the silence that follows is different from all the ones that came before. You lie beside him, heart still racing, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your arm. He doesn’t speak. He just watches you, memorizing the curve of your lips, the way your chest raises and falls. And for a moment, you forget every plan. Every lie. Every secret. For a moment, it feels like love. The kind that sneaks up on you — quiet, uninvited, and impossible to ignore. You lie tangled together, your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tenderly caressing your bare skin. Hearts still thudding. 

Satoru is the one to break the silence, his voice light, teasing (as usual). “So... You really don’t remember me, huh?” 

You blink, lifting your head just enough to glance at him. “What?” 

“Brutal...”, he laughs. “And here I was, thinking I made a lasting impression that night.” 

You narrow your eyes, unsure if he’s joking. “What are you talking about?” 

“Nahh, I get it — you were pretty drunk”, he says, dragging the words out like a cat playing with mouse. 

“Oh god—” You sit up suddenly, sheet gathering around your chest. “Don’t tell me we’ve hooked up in the past and I don’t remember it?” Satoru bursts out laughing. “No, not like that.”

You squint at him. “Then stop being so cryptic and tell me!” 

He stretches, hands behind his head, smug and insufferable. “Let’s just say… you were outside a bar. Alone. Slumped on the curb. And I saved your life.”

You blink again. He continues, barely hiding his amusement. “Some creep tried to hit on you. I intervened, obviously. You asked if I was a kidnapper, told me I smelled nice, then fell asleep in my lap.”

Your jaw drops. “No way.” 

“Oh, there’s more,” he says with a mock-serious nod. “You called me pretty. And you kissed me.”

You gape. “You’re lying.” 

“I’m not,” he says, lips twitching. “And you stole my jacket, by the way.”

Your eyes widen. Something flickers at the edge of your memory. “Wait— that was your jacket?”

Satoru raises his brows, clearly enjoying himself. “Yep.” 

“I always wondered where it came from”, you mumble, stunned. “I kept it for years. I thought maybe someone just… gave it to me out of pity.” 

“Well, I did give it to you”, he says, softer now. “But it wasn’t pity.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. “I can’t believe it. That was you.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, like it’s no big deal — but his voice betrays him when he says, “Yeah. I looked for you, you know? Went back to that street, hung around your supposed campus. Thought about that stupid night more times than I’d ever admit.” 

You gasp. 

“When your photo showed up in the marriage proposal packet?” He looks over at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “I said yes before they even finished reading your name.” 

You stare at him, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

He smiles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you didn’t look at me like this before.” You lean in, heart heavy with something warm and aching. “How do I look at you now?” 

“Like you might not disappear this time.” 

-- 

You slip into your nightgown, your skin still tingling with traces of warmth and tenderness. The sound of water runs in the background — Satoru in the shower, humming something off-key. A lazy smile plays on your lips as you step out of the bedroom, quietly padding down the hallway. You tell yourself it’s just to grab snacks. Maybe a drink. Something to soothe the afterglow that’s left your heart both full and aching. 

But as you reach the kitchen and flick on the soft underlight, your body seizes.

Akihito is there. Standing in the low light like a phantom, glass in one hand, his other curled into a loose fist at his side. The bottle of whiskey beside him is nearly half-empty. He doesn’t speak right away — just stares at you, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Not like this. There’s pain, yes. But buried under that is something sharper. Something raw. 

“Akihito...” you breathe, barely more than a whisper. He doesn’t answer. Just brings the glass to his lips again, slowly, as if buying time — or trying to keep himself from saying what’s already clawing its way up his throat. Akihito, huh? You used to call him Aki... 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing slightly as he steps forward. You don’t move — not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t quite dare. He stops in front of you, closer than comfort allows. The scent of whiskey and something tired hangs on him — disappointment. His eyes flicker over your face, and you know he sees it. The softness in your cheeks. The haze still lingering in your gaze. The warmth that isn’t his. He knows. Of course he does. But he wants to confirm, one last time. 

His hand reaches toward you, swiftly lifting your nightgown to brush his fingers against your cunt, bare, still wet and sore. You flinch, instinctively stepping back — but his free hand snaps around your wrist. He withdraws his fingers, bringing them close to your face, then slowly rubs them together. Smearing the slick, laced with remnants that don’t belong to him. “You slept with him”, he says, low, flat. No question. Just a quiet accusation. 

Your breath catches. 

He leans in, close enough for his words to brush against your skin. “Do you love him?”

Before your lips can part, before your heart even finds a beat, a new voice breaks the silence. 

“Hey, I was looking for y—” Satoru enters the room, still damp from the shower, water clinging to his chest, a towel slung low around his waist, another in his hands as he rubs it through his hair. The moment he sees his father, he stops mid-step. His eyes lock at his hand around your wrist. His tone drops, his jaw clenches. He immediately yanks his hand away from you, then his eyes dart to the whiskey on the counter. “Old man, did you get drunk enough to mistake my wife for yours?” 

Akihito doesn’t answer right away, but he tenses. For a moment, he seems to fold in on himself — trying, perhaps, to remember who he is, and who he’s supposed to be. “I lost my balance for a second”, he mutters. Then without another glance at either of you, he brushes past and disappears down the hall. 

The silence he leaves behind is deafening. You’re frozen. Like glass on the verge of shattering. Guilt crawls under your skin like a fever. You want to scream. You want to run. You feel like you’ve betrayed them both. 

Satoru looks at you. His expression softens the moment he sees your face. “Hey...” voice gentle now. “You okay? You look a bit... pale.” He tries to joke, but there’s a note of worry breeding into his words. “Did I... maybe go a little too hard on you back there?” A faint smirk, halfhearted. His eyes, though, are searching.  

You force yourself to nod, to smile like you’re fine. “No. I’m okay. I just—” you glance toward the hallway, “I got startled. I didn’t expect to see anyone else awake.”

Satoru doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push either. He just reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch almost reverent. “Next time, tell me”, he says softly. “I’ll walk you around the house like a proper husband.” 

You laugh — weakly, but you manage it. Neither of you says what you’re thinking. Neither of you asks the questions hanging thick in the air. But both of you feel it. Something has shifted. And in the stillness that follows, all you can do is hold your breath and pretend it’s not already slipping out of your control. 

-- 

The soft creak of Akihito’s footsteps disappears into the silence of the hallway as if he is retreating from more than just a room. By the time he reaches the bedroom he shares with Saori, the burn in his chest has settled into something heavier, duller. She is already asleep, curled into herself beneath the silk sheets. He doesn’t even look at her. Akihito pours himself another drink from the decanter near the dresser, the sound of the liquid filling the glass louder than it should. His hand shakes as he brings it to his lips. He has lost count of how many glasses he had tonight. 

He believed he was in control, never imagining, even for a moment, that you might be the one to falter. He sits on the edge of the bed for a while, nursing the bitterness on his tongue, trying to down what feels like the unraveling of everything. His grip tightens around the glass until his knuckles turn white. And eventually, the weight of it — the whiskey, the pain, the loss — pulls him down. He settles in bed, fully clothed, eyes open to the dark. Only when the alcohol dulls the sharpest edges of his thoughts does sleep finally claim him. 

Saori wakes sometime later — hours, maybe. She doesn’t know what stirred her at first. The clock ticks quietly. The room is still. But then she hears it. A soft sound. A broken voice. Akihito. At first, she thinks he is awake, whispering. But when she turns to face him, she sees the tight lines on his brow, his face twisted in restless dreaming. 

...a name falls from his lips like a prayer. Your name.

“Don’t leave me...” He shifts, face turned toward her, eyes shut tight. His voice cracks in a way she has never heard before. “I love you... please... don’t go...” 

Saori doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. For a long moment, all she can do is stare at the man she spent more than half her life beside. The man who kept so much from her. Until now.

Everything made sense to her now. All of it. The proposal of a random girl — a nobody, by traditional standards — as a bride for the clan head. His obsessive oversight of your marriage. His silence. His sudden, inexplicable shifts in mood. All the times he came home reeking of another woman. And now this. 

She sits up slowly, placing her hand on her lap as the cold realization settles deep into her bones. Her husband has never said her name like that, even in dreams. A sharp, unfamiliar ache blooms in her chest. It isn’t jealousy — though that is part of it. It is grief. For a marriage that never really belonged to her. For a love that was never hers to begin with. She turns to look at Akihito once more. His lips move soundlessly now, breath uneven. Vulnerable in a way he has never let himself be when conscious. Saori whispers, her voice nearly a breath, “You poor, stupid man...” 

And she doesn’t know whether to feel pity, rage, or heartbreak. So she sits there — in the dim quiet, beside the man who is dreaming of someone else — and tries to remember what it feels like to be chosen. 

-- 

The morning sun spills through sheer drapes. Saori sits before her vanity, back perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap as the house attendant brushes through her hair. She stares at her reflection — still, expressionless. But her eyes, always sharp, betray thought in motion. There’s no puffiness in them, no redness, no sign of the long night she endured beside her sleeping husband and the dreams he whispered into the dark. Not a trace of it reached the surface. Because Gojo Saori does not falter. 

She was raised for this life. Trained from the moment she could walk and speak — in manners, in posture, in etiquette. In silence. In sacrifice. She was chosen for the Gojo Clan as if born for it, bred for it. A perfect match to elevate status and maintain lineage. An ideal bride, by design. Not merely beautiful, but refined. Not merely obedient, but poised. Regal in her restraint. And still, he never loved her. Gojo Akihito, the man she married at twenty-one, gave her everything a wife could ask for — wealth, status, a name that carried power. But not his heart. Never his heart. She spent years trying to earn it anyway. With devotion. With loyalty so fierce it could have moved mountains if he had only looked her way and seen her properly. 

But last night... Last night, in the hush of the sleeping room they shared for so many years, he spoke someone else’s name. Not once. Not carelessly. Lovingly. 

Saori meets her own gaze in the mirror — unwavering, unflinching. She should’ve wept, perhaps. Cried the way lesser women might. Collapsed into trembling disbelief or broken rage. But she had no time for that. No space, in the skin she wears, for such indulgence. Her family name was teetered on scandal, and she bled too much grace into this place to see it torn down now — not by a girl’s foolishness, not by a man’s longing. Gojo Saori was, above else, a guardian of the image. But the image was beginning to crack. And she was ready to protect what needed protecting.  

--  

You sit at the table, eyes tracing the rim of your teacup, steam curling softly into the morning air. You haven’t taken a sip. You haven’t touched your plate. Your stomach is tight, twisted with guilt... especially after last night. 

Satoru is full of light and ease, as he always is — grinning, teasing, tossing playful remarks into the stillness like stones skipping across a glassy lake. His hand brushes yours casually, fingertips lingering just long enough to warm your skin. It’s comforting in a way, how unchanged he is. But his energy doesn’t reach you this morning. You smile when you’re supposed to. You answer when he prompts you. But your mind is far away — caught between the memory of last night’s warmth and the echo of Akihito’s voice, flat and cracked with disappointment. 

Akihito sits quietly, as he always does, but today his silence feels heavier. His fingers press against the bridge of his nose, slow and methodical, as if trying to will away a migraine. He hasn’t touched his food. His presence across the table burns into you like a brand. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you can feel his restraint like a tremor in the room — barely contained, always building. 

Saori is a vision of composure. She lifts her teacup with perfect posture, takes delicate sips, and sets it down with the precision of someone who has performed this same ritual every morning of her life. Her face is unreadable — not blank, but too measured. There’s something behind her stillness, something coiled. But you can’t tell what. She gives nothing away. 

Satoru leans in toward you with a lopsided grin, voice dipped in mischief. His hand brushes your arm again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he senses how fragile you feel. “You’re awfully quiet today”, he points out. You blink, startled — his voice snapping you out of your spiral — and you force a breath, a small smile. He’s trying to bring you back. The way he always does. “I didn’t get much sleep last night”, you manage, voice low and tight. 

“Tired, huh?” he echoes with a soft laugh, leaning in closer. His voice drops to a whisper, just for you. “Guess that’s what happens after a long, productive night... right?” 

Your heart stumbles. The words land like a thunderclap, disguised as a joke, but sharp enough to cut through your skin. His wink is lighthearted — harmless in his mind — but you freeze. You don’t laugh. You can’t. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, shame rising in your chest. You drop your gaze and press your lips together, every nerve on fire. 

Then comes the sound. A sharp, sudden crack. 

Akihito’s hand clenches around his teacup — or what’s left of it. Porcelain shards glint, splintered across the table and floor. His palm is cut, a slow trickle of blood winding through the lines of his hand, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He stares at the broken cup like it’s something far away. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched. A man unraveling slowly — but silently. 

Satoru turns toward him, his gaze casual, almost detached. He says nothing. 

Saori moves immediately, her composure untouched as she rises and then immediately kneels beside him without ceremony, inspecting the wound with clinical care. Her voice is even, steady. “Are you alright?” Akihito doesn’t respond. His eyes are still fixed on the broken shards. His breath is shallow. Hollow. You wonder if he even knows where he is. Saori retrieves the first aid kit from the cabinet, her movements smooth, practiced. She tends to the cut with quiet precision, wrapping the bandage around his hand in silence. She doesn’t look at you, not directly — but her awareness is piercing. You can feel her watching, even when her eyes aren’t on you. 

You try not to flinch under the weight of it. 

Satoru watches you now. Truly watches you, and only you. There’s concern in his eyes, but beneath it, something darker — a flicker of something unreadable, as if he’s seeing straight through you. 

--  

You walk Satoru to the front of the estate, the morning sun slowly warming the stone path. He lingers, reluctant to go. “Are you sure you want me to leave?” he asks, searching your face. “You’ve been... kind of out of it all morning.”

You manage a smile, reaching up to smooth a hand through his hair. “I told you, I’m just tired.”  

He’s clearly unconvinced. “Then let me stay. I’ll take the day off, we’ll snuggle in bed, watch trashy movies, eat junk food — whatever you want.” 

“No”, you cut him off gently. “They’ll chew you out for skipping another day because of me. I’m fine, I promise. I just... need a little time to myself.” 

He watches you for a moment longer, visibly debating. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You better call me if you change your mind. Or even if you don’t. I just want to hear your voice.” 

“I will”, you say, trying to mean it. 

“You won’t”, he mutters. “But I’ll pretend to believe you.” 

You watch him walk away until he’s out of sight. And then the weight returns, heavy and unforgiving. You turn and head back toward your room, your steps slow. You were planning to reach out to Akihito — to talk, to finally be honest. At least with him. You need to say the words out loud. 

Halfway to your door, one of the maids appears at the end of the corridor, bowing her head respectfully as she approaches. “Lady Saori has asked if you would join her for tea in the garden”, she says. 

You blink. “Tea?” 

“She’s waiting for you now”, the maid adds.  

Your stomach twists. This is a first. Saori has never invited you anywhere, never initiated anything outside of polite formality. And now — tea? You murmur your thanks and change direction, heading toward the garden with careful steps. When you arrive, Saori is already seated beneath the wide shade of the cherry blossom tree. Everything is picturesque — the porcelain tea set arranged perfectly, delicate sweets on a lacquer tray. Not a single detail out of place. She looks up as you approach, her posture composed, her expression mild. 

“Hello again”, she says, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Please, sit.”

You lower yourself slowly. “Thank you.” 

She pours the tea herself. No attendants. No distractions. Just you and her. “We’ve never had the chance to talk”, she says, tone pleasant. “Just the two of us.” 

You nod faintly. “I guess not.” 

She picks up her cup, takes a small sip, and sets it down again. “Satoru seems happy.”

You glance at her, cautious. “He is.” 

“I can tell. He’s always been bright, but lately there’s something different. Something new. He’s softer. His laugh is more genuine.” She offers a smile. “He clearly cares for you — deeply.” 

Your mouth goes dry. “Thank you.” 

She hums softly, and then — without a change in tone — asks, “And how are things between you and my husband?”

The question hits you like a stone dropped into still water. No warning. No shift in expression.  

You stiffen, staring at her.

She doesn’t look away, “Not well, I imagine?” voice still calm. 

“I—” 

“I don’t want to hear it”, she cuts in, quiet but firm. 

Silence settles like a weight. Her voice remains calm, but the steel beneath it is undeniable. “I am not blind.” 

You lower your gaze. 

“I see the way Akihito looks at you. I see what it’s done to him.” Her fingers rest gently on the rim of her teacup. “And I know the kind of woman it takes to twist a man like him into something unrecognizable.” 

You flinch. 

“I won’t let this continue. I won’t let you unravel this family from the inside out. If you stay on this path, you won’t just break Akihito — you’ll destroy Satoru too. He’s already too attached. Too invested. And when this blows apart — because it will, like all secrets do — do you really think he won’t be the one to bleed for it?” 

You look up at her, heart pounding. Her words feel like nails driven into your spine. There’s no venom in her voce. No raised pitch. Just control. Cold and deliberate. “I’m giving you a choice”, she says. “You leave. On your own terms. Or I will make sure you have no terms at all.” 

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. What can you even say? What are you supposed to do? Argue? 

“Think it over”, she says, lifting her teacup again. “Before it becomes something you can’t come back from.” Then her eyes meet yours one last time — still poised, but with a new edge. “And don’t even think about telling Akihito we had this conversation.” she adds softly. “Unless you want Satoru to know about it too.” 

-- 

You barely make it back to your room before your legs give out. The door shuts behind you and you crash onto the bed, your breath caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s useless now. The dam is breaking. Your shoulders shake, and the sob that leaves you is hoarse, pulled from a place so deep it feels like you’re splitting open. 

Everything was falling apart — like a chain of dominoes tipping one after another. One thing went wrong, and the rest followed, collapsing in swift, inevitable sequence. The worst part? The love blooming quietly in your chest. There’s no use pretending anymore. You can try to lie to everyone else — maybe even try to lie to yourself. But the truth is carved into your every glance, every touch, every breath, every unspoken word between you and Satoru. You love him. But you’re not allowed to have him. Not after this. Not when the damage has already begun to spill over the edges.  

You sit in the stillness for a while, until your tears run dry and resolve begins to settle in their place. There’s one thing left to do — the thing you intended before everything spiraled. You need to speak with Akihito. You pick up your phone and type out the message. 

Meet me in an hour. I’ll send you the location of the hotel. 

Then you get up, dress in silence, and leave. 

-- 

The room is quiet when he arrives. Akihito steps inside and finds you standing by the window, framed in soft, diffused light. There’s something different in your posture — something heavier. He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at you, then takes a step forward. 

He dropped everything and came to you. Still hoping. That small, foolish hope still flickers in him — that maybe, despite everything, you’ve called him here because you’ve come back. He reaches for you, arms out as if to hold you again. But you step back. 

“No”, you say, voice tight. “We can’t do this anymore.” 

His hands drop to his sides. “What?” his voice barely comes out. You swallow the lump rising in your throat. “Aki... we can’t.” He stares at you. Then — a bitter, hollow laugh escapes him. “So that’s it?” His voice cracks. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you? And all this was for nothing?” 

You close your eyes. The silence answers for you. He paces away, running a hand through his hair, then back again. “God”, he mutters. “I thought this was the perfect plan. I thought — if I couldn’t have you publicly, I could at least have you close. Through him. Knowing he wouldn’t want you, wouldn’t touch you. Knowing that you loved me...” He looks at you now, eyes sharp with grief. “But I was wrong about both.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself. “This was a terrible idea from the start, and you know it”, you whisper. “I should’ve never agreed. I should’ve never let it get this far. I wish I’d never—” 

“Don’t”, he snaps, suddenly raw. “Don’t say you wish you never met me. Don’t.” 

Your breath hitches, but you don’t take it back. His voice lowers, thick with disbelief. “You don’t really mean it... right?”

Your silence cuts deeper than any answer.

He lets out a sharp breath, like it hurts, and moves to step toward you again, in utter denial of what’s unfolding before his eyes. 

“No”, you say, firmer this time. “Please. Just let this be the end.” 

You reach for the door. He follows. For the first time, you leave the hotel room together — not like all the other times, not hidden, not careful. You’re walking away, and he’s chasing you, hand reaching desperately for yours. 

“Wait—!” 

Akihito’s hand closes around your wrist just as you step onto the sidewalk, his grip tight, desperate — like holding on could somehow undo everything unraveling between you.

And then you hear it — a familiar voice calls your name. 

“...is that you?” 

You freeze. Shoko stands a few feet away, dressed in her uniform. Her gaze flicks from your face to where Akihito’s hand still clings to yours, and her expression changes in an instant. 

And just like that — in the space of a single day — everything you’ve tried to keep buried begins to rise. Crashing, all at once, to the surface. 

-- 

The sun is long gone by the time Satoru returns, the estate cloaked in stillness. He steps inside, calling your name softly. When you appear at the end of the hall, barefoot in the dim light, something in him settles — and then, just as quickly, something else begins to stir. You look like yourself, and yet... not. Your smile is soft but distant, your eyes shimmering in a way he can’t place. “I’m home”, he says, shrugging off his jacket. “Missed me?” 

You nod, walking up to him. You press a hand to his chest. “Little bit.” He smiles and leans down to kiss you, and when your lips meet, he feels it — the way you cling just a little tighter, hold just a little longer. It’s like you’re trying to memorize the way he tastes.  

Later, in your shared room, the lights are low and the silence is velvet. You’re already in bed when he returns from the shower, his white hair damp and tousled, towel slung loosely around his neck. He slips in beside you, cold fingers brushing your arm. You shiver, not from the chill — from the weight of what’s to come.

“You said you needed some time for yourself this morning, but you’re still like this”, he murmurs, pulling you close. “I don’t like it.”

You nestle against his chest, pressing your cheek to his skin. “I’m okay now.” 

There’s something in your voice that makes him pause. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, grounding himself in the curve of your spine, the warmth of your breath against him. 

“You smell like cotton candy”, you whisper.

He chuckles, nose brushing the crown of your head. “It’s that new shampoo. Smells fancy, huh?”

You don’t answer. You just reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his like it’s the last time... “Will you stay with me?” you ask softly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he breathes.

“Good”, you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “Then, come closer.”

Satoru tilts his head down to look at you, a flicker of unease moving behind his gaze. “Of course”, he says. “Where else would I go?” 

You pull him down to kiss you again. Deep. Slow. There’s no teasing. No games. Just something desperate threaded through every movement. Like a goodbye wrapped in silk. When you make love, there’s no rush. No fire. Just the quiet rhythm of two people trying to suspend time — to stretch a moment into forever. You whisper his name like a prayer. He kisses your temple like he’s stealing a promise he doesn’t know he’s about to break. 

Afterward, you lie tangled together, your head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your bare shoulder. Your breathing evens. Sleep comes to you quickly — a peace you haven’t known in a while.  

But Satoru doesn’t sleep. He watches you in the darkness, his blue eyes searching your face, as if trying to decode something written there. Something unsaid. You’ve never look so peaceful. And, honestly, that’s what scares him. His chest tightens. Something in his gut whispers that he’s missing something. That he’s not seeing the full picture. That maybe... you’re slipping through his fingers.

“Why do I feel like I’m losing you?” he murmurs, barely audible, brushing a thumb along your cheek. You stir, but don’t wake. He leans down and kisses your forehead — gentle, reverent. “I love you”, he whispers into your hair. And for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s enough to keep you. 

-- 

A week passes. The Gojo estate buzzes with preparations for the annual celebration — Saori and Akihito’s wedding anniversary. As always, Saori is at the heart of it all, composed and efficient, orchestrating every detail with practiced grace. Akihito, on the other hand, remains distant. Detached. You barely see him around the mansion. Not a word has passed between you since that day at the hotel. It feels like he’s quietly disappearing — withdrawing, piece by piece — and yet, an uneasy weight sits in your chest. Something feels off. Unfinished. 

One afternoon, as you help Saori sort through invitations, she brings it up — casually. “Have you made up your mind?” she asks, her eyes never lifting from the stack of envelopes. You pause, fingers brushing the edge of an envelope, and answer softly — almost absently. “Who knows.” 

-- 

Morning light filters through the sheer curtains. You’re already awake, lying still in Satoru’s arms. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, one arm draped lazily around your waist, holding you in place like an anchor. Carefully, you ease out from under his arm. He shifts but doesn’t wake. Bare feet touch the cold floor as you rise and stand in the light, allowing yourself one last look. He’s lying on his back now, hair a tousled against the pillow. Peaceful. Vulnerable in a way only sleep allows. Your chest aches. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and lift your gaze to the mirror. Your eyes are red. Hollow. The skin beneath them bruised with fatigue. But beneath the weariness, there’s something else — resolve. When you return to the room, Satoru is stirring. He squints at you with a sleepy grin. “Come back”, he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I sleep better when you’re here.”  

You smile softly. “Can’t. You know today’s the big day.” 

He stretches like a cat, arms reaching above his head, the sheet slipping down to his hips. “Ugh. Right. Completely forgot about that”, he groans and then rolls onto his side. You manage a quiet laugh. As he nestles back into the pillow, you linger in the doorway. “I love you.” you whisper — quietly, so quietly he won’t hear. Then you close the door behind you. And with that, the countdown begins. 

--  

The Gojo estate is nothing short of magnificent tonight. The garden glows beneath a canopy of paper lanterns, warm amber light spilling across the sea of guests. Tables are dressed in fresh flowers. Soft music hums in the background, blending into murmured conversations and the gentle clinking of glasses. Tonight is a celebration of image — Akihito and Saori’s wedding anniversary. Saori is elegance incarnate, her smile as polished as the pearls at her neck. Akihito stands beside her, composed, offering polite nods and minimal words. Together, they are the picture of grace. But the image is just that — a facade. There’s nothing worth celebrating. Nothing real about the harmony they pretend to share. 

Across the garden, Satoru floats through the evening like a disruption in the symmetry. Dressed in a loose gray suit, tie nowhere in sight, he laughs too loud, drowns juice from a champagne glass, and teases the elders with casual disrespect. No one bats an eye — it’s just Satoru being Satoru. But those who know him — really know him — can see it. He’s restless. His eyes keep scanning the crowd. At first subtly. Then, with growing urgency. You’re not out here. You slipped away earlier, saying something about fixing your dress. But that was over thirty minutes ago. Long enough for the knot in his stomach to tighten. Long enough for his laugh to start sounding forced. 

He leans toward Shoko, who’s sipping wine with a bored expression. “Have you seen her?” 

“Nope”, Shoko replies, unbothered. “Didn’t she say she was heading to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah”, Satoru’s fingers drum against the table. “But how long does fixing a dress take?” 

Across the garden, Akihito and Saori stand side by side as guests gather for the toast. She leans in, whispers something. He nods — but his gaze flickers, briefly, toward the house. 

An elder raises a glass. “To love. To strength. To bonds that stand the test of time.” 

Glasses rise.

Clink.

Applause follows. The illusion holds.

Until— 

BOOM. 

A thunderous crack splits the air. The ground shakes. Heat pulses across the garden like a wave. Screams erupt. From the left wing of the estate, fire bursts through the windows — a wall of flame swallowing the air. Smoke billows thick and choking. Music cuts out. Plates crash. Glass shatters. 

Satoru’s glass falls from his hand and explodes against the ground. Something sharp drives into his chest. He knows — you’re still inside. But before the thought is fully formed, he’s already running.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” His voice cuts through the chaos as he barrels through the guests. 

Akihito starts to follow, face pale, but Saori grabs his arm. Her gaze then snaps to her son. “Satoru, STOP!” she cries — but he doesn’t hear.

To Satoru, the world is silent now. There is only the roar of the fire and the pounding of his heart. He bursts through the estate doors, sprinting toward the source of the flames. He forgets his technique. Forgets his own safety. Forgets everything — except you.

“Please, baby— please, my love— I’m coming, please— Don’t do this to me, please—”, he keeps chanting.

The deeper he goes, the more warped the hall becomes — blackened, unrecognizable. He reaches the kitchen — but it’s empty. Panic claws up his throat. He turns, runs to the nearby bathroom. Kicks the door open. Heat smacks him like a wall. Smoke clogs his lungs. He pulls his sleeve over his mouth and steps inside.  

Then he sees it — someone collapsed near the sink, limbs sprawled. Still. His heart stops. He nearly slips as he rushes forward, dropping to his knees beside the figure. Burnt and unrecognizable. But the dress — what’s left of it — is familiar. The color. The delicate trim. There’s a necklace around the neck, half-melted, but unmistakably yours. “No”, he whispers. “No, no, no—” 

His hand hovers over your body. His throat tightens. Everything around him is heat, noise, pressure, but in his ears, there’s only silence. Like the world just folded in on itself. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his lips — salt and ash. “I was just with you...” he whispers, almost childlike, broken. “You were laughing with me a moment ago...” He leans in, presses his forehead to your shoulder, and breathes raggedly. Body shaking.  

Behind him, voices start to echo. Footsteps. Shouting. Geto is coming to pull him out. But Satoru doesn’t hear any of it. He doesn’t move. He can’t. For the first time in his life, it feels like he’s lost. 

-- 

The fire was quickly contained. The Gojo mansion still stands, its structure untouched. Only the left wing of the first floor bears the marks of the fire. The investigation concluded that the fire was caused by an overheating motor in the bathroom’s ventilation system, a tragic accident. Only one life was lost: yours. 

Your funeral was two days ago. A private ceremony. Satoru didn’t speak during it. He barely moved. Just stood there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes hidden behind the blindfold. Quiet. In a way he’s never been. 

Now, days later, the world still spins — people still laugh, they breathe, they live. But he’s still here. In the room that was once your shared bedroom. Alone. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the chaos of your things scattered around the room. Your belongings — still as you left them — seem to scream your absence. He can’t bring himself to touch them. Not yet. Not ever. The book you were reading, the bottle of perfume on the nightstand, your lotion, your earrings, the brush on the vanity, and your nightgown — neatly folded on your side of the bed. It all kills him. The maids are prohibited from entering the room. He’s made sure of it. The silence of the space, with all its untouched remnants of you, is his alone to bear. 

He buries his face in your pillow, hoping to catch even the faintest trace of your scent. But it’s long gone. A strangled breath leaves him. Then another. And then... he breaks. His hands shake as he scrolls through his phone, endlessly flipping through old texts. Rereading them. The messages that still feel so alive — your voice echoing in his mind. One voicemail stands out. The one you left days before the accident. He presses play. 

“Satoru, stop leaving the toilet seat up! I’m too sleepy in the mornings to notice, but my butt definitely doesn’t appreciate an unexpected ice bath.” 

He laughs. Just once. And then, he breaks again. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, curls into himself, his body crumpling into fetal position. He cries. Not quietly. No. He cries like he’s been holding it in his entire life, like the ground beneath him finally gave way and left him with nothing to stand on. No air. No reason. 

They say he’s doing fine. Around others, he smiles. He jokes. He walks with that same easy confidence, says the right things, acts like nothing’s changed. But Geto and Shoko know better. They see it in the way he visits your grave every day. The way his shoulders stiffen when someone dares mention your name. The way his hands tremble when they’re not stuffed in his pockets. He’s unraveling. Slowly. Quietly. And still, no one knows the truth. Not yet. Not even him. 

Only Shoko does. 

-- 

You follow Shoko into the morgue at Jujutsu Tech, each step slow and soundless. She doesn’t speak. Just moves steadily toward a counter, where she sets a folder down. Her back remains to you. The silence stretches long and taut. Then— 

“I wasn’t sure what to make of what I saw earlier”, she finally says. “But the fact that you followed me here... it confirms my suspicions.” 

You try to speak, but no words come out. Only a shaky breath escapes, heavy with guilt, regret, and everything you’ve been holding in for far too long. Shoko turns to face you. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes are sharp.

“You look like you want to say something”, she says. “So say it.” 

The words stumble out at first, fractured and raw. But then they come faster, pouring from you. You tell her everything — the affair, the reason behind the arranged marriage, the lies... everything. And the worst of it — that somehow, in the wreckage of it all, you fell in love with Satoru. You nearly choke saying it aloud, the weight of the truth crushing in your chest.

Shoko listens in silence. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t interrupt. When you finally stop, she speaks with her usual stillness. “Why are you telling me this?” Then, sharper, “Why not tell Gojo?” 

“No”, you say quickly. “I can’t... I won’t do this to him.”

She tilts her head, gaze narrowing. “You already did”, she replies flatly. “Whether you tell him or not doesn’t change that.” 

Your throat tightens. “I know... and I need you to help me.” 

“Help you?” she repeats. “Why would I?” 

“Because I don’t want him to hurt, not like this.” 

There’s a long pause. Shoko just watches you — assessing, weighing. Then she steps closer, her voice low. “But he will hurt. In a way I’m not sure he’ll ever come back from.”

You meet her gaze, desperation burning in yours. “Please.”

She says nothing, but something seems to be shifting in her. 

“There’s something that will hurt him less than the truth”, you say. “I need you to find a body. Someone who resembles me. Imbue it with my residuals — only you can do that. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her arms cross slowly. “You want me to find a corpse?” she asks. “You want me to help you fake your death? Is that it?” 

You nod, eyes dropping. “He’ll be better off thinking I’m dead than knowing what I’ve done.” 

“You’re underestimating him”, Shoko says, shaking her head. “You don’t know what you mean to him. This isn’t mercy — it’ll destroy him.”

Her words cut like glass, but you close your eyes. “Please”, you whisper. 

“When?”, Shoko asks, and you blink. “When do you need the body?” she repeats, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

-- 

(One month later) 

You moved away. Far away. To a small village tucked in the mountains, hidden in a forgotten corner of the country. It’s quiet here — the kind of quiet that doesn’t demand anything from you. No one knows your name here. Not your real one, anyway. You rent a modest cottage, barely furnished, but clean. You wake with the sun, tend to your tiny garden, then walk to the local pub where you started working just enough to get by. It’s simple. Monotonous. A life carved from necessity, not desire. And yet, every night before bed, you check your phone. One conversation always sits at the top of your inbox: Shoko. 

Your last message was three days ago. 

You: How is he? 

Her reply came the next morning. 

Shoko: Still breathing. Don’t ask for more. 

You didn’t. You never do. 

-- 

(Back at Jujutsu Tech) 

Satoru has just returned from a mission, and it’s clear he’s not himself. He’s sharp, but off. The usual cocky confidence has slipped into irritation, and he drifts through the halls with his mind elsewhere. Distracted. A clipboard hangs loosely in his hand, and he’s on the hunt for Shoko — she’s supposed to fill out a report. 

These days, he only drops the act around her. Or Geto. Or, of course, when alone. When he’s not pretending, he’s quiet. Drained. Nothing like the Gojo Satoru everyone knows. 

As he nears the morgue, he slows. A muffled voice cuts through the silence behind the door. It’s Shoko, on the phone. He’s about to knock when he hears it. 

Your name. 

Satoru freezes. Is he finally losing his mind? But then, there’s more— 

“...you need to stop asking.” 

A pause. Then, softer— 

“He... He doesn’t talk about you still. He’s not okay. But you knew he wouldn’t be.” 

The world stills. He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. It’s like his mind is short-circuiting. Did he hear that right? His grip tightens on the clipboard until it creaks beneath his fingers. But then, it comes again. 

Your name. 

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before his body moves of its own accord. The door opens with a slow creak.

Shoko looks up, and she sighs. “...I have work to do”, she says quietly, and ends the call.

Satoru steps inside and shuts the door behind him. He throws the clipboard aside. He is not smiling, and he’s no longer wearing his blindfold. And for the first time in a month, his eyes are fully visible — different, bottomless, rimmed in red — and they are fixed on her. “Care to explain?”, he says, voice low, flat. 

Shoko doesn’t play dumb. She doesn’t lie. She leans back against the wall, her posture shifting to something almost resigned. She exhales, a soft sound, like she’s been waiting for this moment. She knew it would come. And for the first time in weeks, Satoru’s eyes — his grief-clouded eyes — are lit by something else. Hope. 

“She’s alive.”, Shoko says. The words hang in the air between them, and Satoru’s world shifts. He doesn’t react at first. Just stands there, trying to process her words. 

Finally, his voice cracks — barely audible, barely more than a whisper, like something fragile. “You let me bury her.” 

Shoko’s gaze softens for a moment, but then she sighs, a sound that’s more exhausted than regretful. “She said it’d hurt you less.” 

“Less?” He laughs once, a shar, disbelieving sound. “Less than what?” 

“The truth.” The words come from Shoko with unflinching clarity. “She had an affair with your father.”

Shoko waits. For a reaction. For anger. For questions. For anything.  

But Satoru doesn’t blink. He only asks one question. “Where is she?” 

-- 

The Gojo estate still stands. The first floor — once scorched by fire — has long since been renovated. But beneath the surface, the scars of the past remain. For those who know, it’s impossible to forget what was lost. Akihito sits in the living room, staring down at the floor, his expression hollow. The once commanding patriarch is now a broken shell. His hands tremble as he takes a sip of his drink, his gaze unfocused, consumed by grief. He hasn’t spoken much in weeks. Every time he tries, his voice cracks. The loss of you has shattered him. Sometimes he tells himself it was better this way — better to lose you to death than to watch you belong to someone else. Even if that someone else was his son. For a moment, that thought would make it easier to breathe. But then again, what did it matter? You were gone. And something in him knew — the fire wasn’t an accident. He suspected Saori. Maybe she found out. Maybe she did this to you. Should he kill her? But that wouldn’t bring you back. And besides... the clan. He still had a duty to do. 

Saori sits nearby, her gaze fixed out the window, her lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile. Her eyes flicker to Akihito for a brief moment, but there’s no sympathy in them — only contentment. After everything, she believes fate has finally righted itself. She watches him fall apart with quiet detachment, a sense of calm in her stillness. At least now, he is more hers than he is yours. “Perhaps it was fate”, she murmurs softly, her words for no one but the walls. Akihito’s eyes remain distant, his thoughts far removed from her voice. He’s too lost to hear anything she says — too far gone to care. 

Then, the door opens. Satoru enters, no grand gesture, no announcement. His presence fills the room immediately, thick and heavy, like an impending storm. Akihito doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need to. He knows why his son is here — he can feel it in the air before he even steps further in. Saori glances at Satoru, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. She rises without a word, understanding that this conversation isn’t for her. She leaves quietly, walking past her son with only a brief, knowing look.

The door clicks shut behind her. 

Akihito slumps lower in his seat, but he doesn’t look at his son. He doesn’t need to. The way Satoru stands there, rigid, fists clenched, eyes dark and filled with fury. Akihito feels the weight of it, heavy in the room, before he even lifts his head to look at him.

“You know”, Akihito says quietly, his voice hoarse, a statement rather than a question. Satoru stands still, his jaw clenched tight, eyes burning. He doesn’t answer. The air between them crackles with the unsaid. Akihito presses on, his voice low, laced with a tremor. “How did you find out?” 

Still, Satoru remains silent. His fists tremble at his sides, his breathing shallow, ragged. The words catch in his throat, a clash of fury and hurt. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and strained, as though forcing each word past the tightness in his chest.

“You broke her.” he spits, finally. “You broke the one thing most precious to me.” 

Akihito flinches, the weight of the accusation landing heavily on him. His gaze hardens, but he can’t meet Satoru’s eyes. There’s nothing to say. His son is right — he did break her. And by doing so, he broke his son as well. 

Satoru steps forward suddenly, his movements swift and calculated. The space between them closes in an instant, and Satoru’s eyes, wide with intensity, burn through the silence as he towers over his own father. There’s something primal in the air now — a rawness, an energy that could consume the entire room, the entire estate, if left unchecked. Akihito doesn’t react, he just sits there, knowing what’s coming. He accepts it. The man he once was, gone. And this son — this powerful, broken son — is the reckoning he’s been waiting for. 

“Do you have anything to say?” Satoru’s voice is barely containing the storm inside him. His hands shake, still clenched tightly into fists, but there’s a note of something darker in his gaze — an edge that suggests the breaking point is near. Akihito looks at him, pained, defeated, but remains silent. The words don’t come. 

The sound that follows — sharp and violent — could be a fist crashing into flesh or a bone snapping under pressure. It’s unclear, too quick to pinpoint. The air itself seems to shatter with it.

Satoru turns without another word, leaving the mansion. His hands are covered in blood.

Behind him, a scream shatters the silence. Saori’s scream, high and frantic, echoes through the halls. Saori doesn’t know it yet, but her time is coming too. Soon enough. 

-- 

Satoru knew. He had known for a while. It wasn’t a dramatic discovery. It was quiet and accidental, in fact. It happened early into your marriage, when you were still distant with him — polite but clipped. Somehow always guarded. He thought it was the nerves at first. Shyness. The weight of tradition. But then a month passed, and you still wouldn’t meet his eyes unless it was absolutely necessary. Still flinched when he reached for you. He could handle awkward beginnings, of course — especially for you. He wasn’t expecting a fairytale, you didn’t even remember him. But what he couldn’t handle was not knowing you, the way that you never let him in. 

So he did what a curious man with too little patience like himself might do. He followed you. Not out of suspicion of course. He thought if he observed you from a distance, he might’ve learned things you weren’t ready to tell or show him. Your habits. Anything. And then, one afternoon, he watched you enter a hotel. Alone. Odd. 

Ten minutes later, his father arrived. Very odd. 

Satoru waited. Two hours later, you walked out. Head down, hair slightly mussed. You didn’t see him. Shortly after, Akihito exited the building, adjusting his coat, wearing an expression Satoru had rarely seen on him — satisfied, secretive. And that was it. He didn’t even use his Six Eyes at first. Part of him didn’t want confirmation. Part of him hoped it was just a coincidence. But shortly after, he let his technique drift over your form. And there it was. Residuals. His father’s cursed energy. All over you. 

...and everything began to click. Your stiffness. The arranged marriage. His father’s sudden interest in choosing his bride. How Akihito had spoken of you before the engagement with just a touch too much fondness.  It wasn’t an arranged marriage; it was a cover. You weren’t his. You were his father’s. 

Satoru never confronted you, never let on that he knew. He just watched. Watched the way you disappeared for hours and returned with a soft look in your eyes that was never for him. Watched the way Akihito seemed lighter after seeing you. Watched the lie of a marriage unfold, thread by thread, every day. He never blamed you, though. He thought, maybe this was fate’s twisted way of bringing you back together. Yes, he could’ve easily destroyed it, could’ve exposed the affair and made the clan turn against Akihito. But that would’ve meant the clan turning against you as well. And Satoru never wanted to ruin you, he wanted to keep you.  

So he waited. Watched. Loved you in silence. And when he caught glimpses — that maybe you were beginning to see him, not just the son of the man you loved, that you were starting to change — that was all it took. He clung to that.

Because the thing about Gojo Satoru is that, when he wants something — really, truly wants it — he doesn’t stop. Not rules. Not family. Nothing can stop him.

You had been stolen from him once — the night on the curb, when fate gave you to him and then ripped you away before he could even ask your name. Then it happened again. His father got to you first.

Now, he wasn’t going to let you be taken away from him for the third time. No matter what. Even if it meant choosing heart over blood.

If you had faked your death and disappeared because you believed you couldn’t exist in a world with both of them, then all he had to do was remove the one standing in the way. To keep you. 

-- 

You’re wiping down the tables at the pub, preparing for the new day. Half-focused. Letting the repetitive motion ground you, steady your nerves. Trying not to think about the ghost of him that’s never really left you.  

The door creaks open behind you.

“We’re not open yet”, you immediately call out. Politely, without turning around. “Please come back in an hour.” 

Silence. Neither a response, nor footsteps indicating that the person is leaving. You glance over your shoulder, ready to repeat yourself, but the words catch in your throat. 

Satoru is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. “Won’t you make an exception for me?” he says softly. It’s meant to sound like him — teasing, light — but his voice gives him away. It’s quiet, fragile. Like it might crack if he tries any harder to keep it steady. 

The rag slips from your hands. You freeze. Then slowly, you turn. But you don’t meet his eyes. You don’t dare. “Why would you come here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s not a question of how he found you. The answer was simple. Shoko. 

He steps forward, slowly. “For you.” 

“For me”, you echo under your breath, more to yourself than to him, a bitter laugh escaping you. “For me, huh?” you repeat.

“For you.” — he says again, with no hesitation. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shrink, as if you could fold into nothing. As if it might protect you from the weight of what he’s carrying in his voice. “Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t want to be found?” 

“I did”, he says. “I considered a lot of things, actually.” He pauses before he takes another step, and then adds, “But the fact you did something so reckless... made me consider that you cared more than I imagined.”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You don’t understand—” 

“I do.” He cuts in gently. “You thought if you stayed, you’d destroy us both.” 

You finally look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, and something inside you threatens to cave, the devastation in him nearly buckling your knees. “I did something unforgivable.” 

He exhales, like what he’s about to say is so obvious it needn’t be said out loud. But he does it anyway — “I was ready to do anything for you.” 

“Even if what I did was truly terrible?” 

“Even then.” 

He takes another step, and then another, until the distance between is gone. Until he’s close enough to touch. You want to move. To put space between you, but your feet don’t listen. And his presence — it roots you in place like gravity.

“You could’ve told me everything”, he murmurs. “You should’ve told me.” A pause. “I already knew.” 

“What?”, your breath stutters. 

His eyes darken, and a faint, bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I’ve known for a while.” 

“But... Shoko... didn’t Shoko—” 

“It wasn’t her.” He shakes his head. “I found out myself.” He falls silent for a moment, like the memory stings to recall. 

“And you never said anything?” 

“I had my reasons”, he says softly. “Just like you had yours.” He lifts his hand — the lightest touch — and tilts your chin up. The gentleness nearly undoes you. You try to speak, but the words tangle with the sob building in your chest. It slips out instead — small, broken. His fingers brush beneath your eye, catching the tear before it falls. Even as his own hand trembles. “One word from you would’ve changed everything”, he whispers. “I would’ve burned everything down to keep you safe. Happy.” 

You slowly break under the weight of his words, forehead falling to his chest. You feel the tension in him — not anger, not judgment. Just ache. His arms wrap around you. 

“You were always my girl”, he breathes into your hair. “Even when you didn’t know it. Even when you were his. From the moment you fell asleep on my lap outside that club, you were mine.” 

You tilt your head up, lips trembling. “I’m... I’m really s—” 

“Shh.” 

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin. “I know.”

And then, his lips charge closer — you meet him halfway into a soft, slow kiss. One that is both an ache and a release all at once.

It hurts to want him this much. It hurts to know what you did. It hurts to know that he still looks at you with so much love, even when he knows it all. It hurts, that despite everything, it’s still you.  

-- 

You never thought you’d find peace again. Not truly. But now, the mornings are calm. The nights are quiet. The days pass without dread — light, easy, almost gentle. You and Satoru settled into this small life together, tucked away from the rest of the world. 

He left it all behind — the clan, the title, the crushing weight of being the strongest. Here, he isn’t Gojo Satoru, head of the Gojo Clan or the face of sorcerer society. Here, he’s just Satoru. Your Satoru. The one who wakes up beside you each morning, arm draped around your waist, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your ear. The one who insists on cooking breakfast and makes an unspeakable mess in the kitchen. The one who still leaves the toilet seat up just to hear you scold him — and grins when you do. 

Your belly is growing now — small, round, and full of promise. Sometimes he speaks to it like he already knows who your child will be. Sometimes he rests his head there and falls asleep. Other times, he lies awake with his hand on your baby bump, eyes full of wonder and fear, whispering that he hopes he’ll be good enough — for both of you. 

There are things left unspoken between you. You’ve never asked what happened after he left the clan — or more accurately, what happened before he left. You suspect the truth, of course. There’s no way not to. But you don’t press. And he doesn’t offer. 

Still, you think of Akihito sometimes. It’s impossible not to — he was a turning point, a fire you walked through to become who you are now. And sometimes, in the right light, Satoru looks so much like him. The same build, the same jawline, the same eyes.

But you know better. He’s nothing like him. Akihito, for all his love, always chose the clan in the end. His desires may have been selfish, but they were always entwined with duty. He loved you, yes. But he never chose you. Not truly. 

But Satoru did. He always chose you — even when it broke him. Even when it meant walking away from everything he was. Even when it meant taking a life — his own blood — to protect yours.

When he said, “I was ready to do anything for you”,

...he really meant it. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In The Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, social dejection, mentions of religion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your Christmas is set to be a lonely one, but you do your best to share the cheer with your only friend.

Character: Arvin Russell

Day Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - cottage!core 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The tension is something you’ll never be used to. The silence is as bad as the hushed voices and the sneering side looks. It's all so suffocating. 

So much as you might’ve earned your judgement, it cannot make them righteous. What was it the pastor extolled; ‘let he who be without sin...’ And why is it that the stones they cast are aimed at you and not the man who joined you in your misdeed? The very one who cozened you into the act?  

Henry still sits on the town council, he still goes home to his wife and other children, he still gets a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good day’, and none bat a single eye along the pew. You can’t even get the same from him these days. He’s a stranger now that your dresses are too tight and your gait is wider and wobbly. Now that his adultery has grown inside of you and continues to, he runs from it. 

You pay at the counter for your meagre fare. Janie fired you not long after the minister’s scolding and none-so-subtle remonstrance of straying innocence. Like your mother and father, she abandoned you to your dejection. You would not stain her Christian mantle. 

The shopkeep, Ted, packs up your goods in the bag without a word. He drops your change on the counter and turns away as you gather it up. Despite that, you still thank him. You lift the bag and hug it above your bump. 

You keep your head down as Esther steps up to the counter with her basket. She makes a comment about the holiness of the coming holidays. Of how Jesus’ birthday should be kept sacred. You know she means you to hear but you don’t show that you do. 

You step out into the chilly winds as they swirl around with a gust of powder. You nearly collide with another as you do. The chuckle that comes with the near-catastrophe eases your nerves. In an instant, the weight is scooped out of your arms. 

“There ya’are,” Arvin greets. He’s the only person in town who talks to you.  

In fact, he’s the only reason you have a place to lay your head. He did up his old shed so you could live there for a while. A barter you insisted on. What would people think if you accepted his invitation to stay in the spare room? Surely worse than the already do. He does not deserve to be tainted by you. 

“You all done for the day?” You ask as you keep your arms crossed. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers brightly, “what’d you get? Anything good...” he sniffs the top of the bag, “I smell cinnamon.” 

You chew your lip, “yeah...” 

You glance at him. He wears his fleece lined denim jacket, the collar greyed with age and a button missing on the right chest pocket. It’s not really enough for that kinda cold. Knockemstiff lives up to its name quite often and the winter will be sure to freeze your bones. 

“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” he chuckles. “You want some candy? Got some in my pocket. Mr. Callahan sent them in with Edwin.” 

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you blow into your woolen mittens. It’s bitter these days. “Um, I was hopin’... I could make ya dinner tonight. Since ya done so much for me. ‘Fraid I don’t got much else to give right now.” 

“That’d be awfully nice,” he accepts with a bounce in his step, “here.” He shifts the weight of the bag into one arm and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a long shape wrapped in brown paper, the top twisted and tied with ribbon. “Butterscotch.” 

“Arvin, I told ya--” 

“I got lots,” he insists. 

You take it with a thank you. You continue down the packed snow. He’s entirely oblivious to the way Charmain passes with a glare but you feel it in your chest. 

“I was thinking, before the baby comes,” you swallow as the thought bubbles up from the pits of constant dread. “I should leave.” 

“Leave?” He wonders aloud. He looks over at you as snow gathers in his hair, the cold nipping pink his cheeks. He’s two years older than you but looks and seems much younger than you. “Where to?” 

“I got an Aunt a few townships over. She’s the only one still answering my letters. She never had no kids of her own. They all... none of ‘em made it, ya know? I been writing to her and that.” 

“Oh,” his disappointment tweaks in his throat. “Well, you don’t gotta, you know? I don’t mind ya stickin’ ‘round.” 

“I mind. You been so kind already. Once I got the babe, no one gonna take me then neither. No work here, and I’ll be lucky to get a pew on Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well, all these folks be saying they’re godly and how do they act?” His tone edges hotly. “Ain’t godly to turn a soul out. My mama always said so. No soul’ll make it through this world with a dent or two, but the lord’ll forgive.” 

“Mm, she sounds like a nice lady,” you say. 

“She was,” he sniffs. “And so I wouldn’t be puttin’ no shame on her memory by bein’ selfish, ya know? So’s as long as you need it, the shed is yours. I told ya, though, there’s a room inside.” 

“No, no,” you loosen the ribbon and peek inside the paper. The candy stick of twisted sugar is all shades of caramelly brown. You smell it and it plucks at your bottomless hunger. “I don’t mind it. Pa never had the stove goin’ less the snow was past our knees. He always says, if you’re cold, put another sweater on.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs darkly. 

“What?” 

“Yer pa’s the reason you’re in my shed,” he harrumphs. “Sorry for sayin’ it, but I wouldn’t take no advice from a man who’d disown his own blood. He’s the one brought Henry ‘round. They still gettin’ drinks down at the tank.” 

That information is more chilling than the cold. You didn’t know that. You try not to hear things about your father or the man who put this curse in you. 

“I...” he begins crisply, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna tell ya.” 

“Woulda found out soon enough,” you shrug and shove the butterscotch stick in your mouth. You suck on it pensively. It’s sweet but you can hardly enjoy it as your eyes burn with a glaze of tears. 

“So,” he coughs, “what’s for dinner?” 

You pop your lip off the candy, “it’s a surprise,” you say. 

“Oh, I like surprises,” he smiles, not that he ever really stops. Not around you. 

“Well, I hope you like this one,” you drone. 

💝 

You wash the plates from dinner as dessert bakes in the oven. The smell of cinnamon fills the house as you hear Arvin tinkering in the next room. He’s always messing around with something mechanical. You’re not always sure if he’s fixing them or just taking them apart. 

You dry and stack the dishes away. The old house is cozy, quaint. You know it belonged to his parents. It’s still strewn with their memories. As if he’s preserving them in those walls. So you do your best not to disturb it. 

You take the pan out of the oven. The rolled-out dough is perfectly baked and the colour is pristine. The shape resembles their namesake; elephant ears. It’s only dough, sugar, and cinnamon, but so so delicious. Your grandmother used to make them. Despite your current predicament, you’re nostalgic for the simper days. 

You put one on a plate and peek at the doorway. You pause to dig out the parcel you hid under the sink then bring both items out to the front room. You keep the latter behind your back as you approach Arvin. He sits on the floor in front of the burning firestove as he pokes at an old clock with a screwdriver. 

“Here ya go,” you offer him the dessert. “I could make some coffee or tea?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he puts down the clock and tool, then wipes his hand on the cloth draped over his knee. He reaches up to the take the plate. “Smells good.” He brings the dish down to examine the pastry, “what is it?” 

“Called an elephant ear. Not super fancy.” 

“Looks good,” he grins. “And what’s that?” 

He lifts the baked dough and bites into it as he angles his head as if to see around you. You bring your hand out and present the parcel. 

“Merry Christmas,” you say. “I know it’s not much, and a bit early but it’s gettin’ real cold.” 

He places the plate on the rug and claps his hands off as he chews. His dark eyes sparkle as he takes the bundle wrapped in brown paper. He brings it over his lap and carefully unties the twine. You sway on your feet and rub your stomach as you watch anxiously. 

He uncovers the knitted scarf and cap. He already has thick gloves that he wears for his work. He feels the wool and examines it quietly. You’re suddenly very unsure. 

“You made these? For me?” He looks up. You nod. “Wow, it’s... you lined the cap?” 

“I had a few old pieces I repurposed,” you shrug. 

“It’s...” 

“Not too much. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t make too much these days. People only hire me if no one knows and it’s gettin’ harder to sneak around.” 

He huffs and shakes his head. He lowers his chin and pets the scarf. “It’s everything.” He continues to examine your work. “I hope you don’t mind, my gift’s not ready yet.” 

“Oh, Arvin, you don’t gotta get me nothin’. You done enough.” 

“I want to,” he says. “Now,” he lays down the wool on the rug neatly and grabs his plate. He uncrosses his legs and stands. “Why aren’t you havin’ some dessert? You need to sit down. Let that baby rest. He mustn’t sleep very much with you titterin’ around all the time.” 

“He’s already titterin--” you go to argue and stop with snort. “I think he knows we’re talking about him.” 

You feel your stomach as the baby kicks. Arvin watches your hand on your belly as his brows rise up his forehead. “You think it’s a boy?” 

“Could be. Not too sure. Oof.” You twitch as the baby kicks harder. Then wince again as Arvin puts his hand on you without warning. It’s surprising but not unwelcome. His warmth seeps through your dress. 

“Oh!” He exclaims as the baby beats on your insides. “I can feel him.” 

“It’s a bit early,” you reach back to brace your hips, “he usually waits ‘til I’m in bed.” 

He keeps his hand on you, watching your belly as the baby continues his dance. He seems awestruck by the ripple under your skin. You’re more exhausted of it. 

“I’ll have your present ready soon,” he says. “Promise.” 

💝

Arvin’s truck rumbles up to the house. You were surprised when he drove it into town today. He doesn’t usually start it unless he’s going to fetch firewood or going off for long trips. 

You open the shed door, a blanket around your shoulders as you peek out. His headlights shine through the greyness. It’s still early by your count, unless you lost track again. 

He hops out and stomps through the snow. He waves at you as his hair curls out from under the cap you made him. He wears it every day. You’re happy for that. 

“Merry Christmas,” he calls out. 

“Christmas... it’s still two days away,” you stay behind the door to shield yourself from the winds. 

“Two days!” He claps as he approaches. “Since you gave me my gift early, I got yours ready too.” 

“Mine?” 

“Mmhm. You’re not the only one who can do surprises. So pack a bag.” 

“Pack...” you wonder. 

“Ah, ah, just get a bag, alright?” 

You can see him jittering in excitement. You hate to dampen that but you also feel bad. You made him a hat and scarf. He’s got something planned out that’s gonna at least cost him gas and his time. 

“Oh...” you murmur. 

“Don’t,” he wags a finger. “Really, come on! I wanna get there by dark.” 

“Alright, I’ll be fast.” 

You gently close the door and retreat. You can’t deny him. His words trouble you though. By dark? How far are you going? You don’t want him to do too much. 

You don’t have a lot to take. A few dresses that still fit, some stockings, your sole pair of boots, your coat, and other things just in case. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be coming back tonight. 

You come out in your coat and boots as Arvin keeps the truck idling. He meets you near the hood and takes your bag before he helps you up into the front seat. He gets in the other side and puts your bag between you. 

“Do I get a hint?” You ask. 

“Nope,” he shifts into gear. “Just hold tight.” 

💝

It’s a few hours before Arvin stops. Your eyes scour the sentinel pines all around and fall upon the painted wood of the cabin’s face. The porch pillars are stained a dark blue as the siding stands as white as the snow. It’s only the edgework along the window frames and door that make it visible amid the winterscape. 

You gasp, “Arvin?” 

“Surprise,” he exclaims. 

“What...” 

“My grandfather built this place. Ma’s dad. I been workin’ on it,” he proclaims. 

“Workin’ on it?” 

“Yep! Ma wouldn’t want you raisin’ that boy in a shed.” 

You mull his words and stare at the cabin. “Arvin, my aunt--” 

“I know, she’s a nice woman by the sounds of it. She can always come see us but you know, not many place around that’ll be as nice as her. Not when’s they see a mother with no husband.” 

You shrink down. He’s right. 

“But I’m not--” 

“Like I was saying,” he interjects, “you’re gonna be a mama. Means you need a proper house.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to argue. You don’t have any to offer as you reel in disbelief. Why would he do all this for you? It’s not his baby. You’re not his problem. 

He comes around and offers his hand. You climb out, gripping him tightly, as you flick away your tears. You sniffle and keep your head down as he leads you across the snowy yard. 

“You’re upset?” He asks as he kicks snow off the steps. 

“I’m... surprised,” you croak, trying to hide your face. “Arvin, it’s too much.” 

“Not much at all,” he counters. “But I got a new stove in and the fireplace real nice since I redid the bricks. And I got it all wired up to a gas generator.” 

“Oh,” you puff out as you climb the steps, still latched onto him. You hiccup as your tears flood over. 

“Oh?” He echoes. 

“Arvin,” you babble behind your hand. “Why-- why would you go and do all this for me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He tugs you toward the door. 

“But...” you choke on your words. 

You kick off your feet before you enter. He moves behind you, guiding you from behind with his hands on your arms. He stops you in a dark doorway. He lets go of you and you listen to him shifting around the dimness. He shines a flashlight into the front room. 

“Once I get the lights on, it’ll look better,” he assures. 

You shake your head, “it’s too much.” 

“Nothin’s too much,” he argues again. “Look, you need this place and you need me. You need a husband, don’t ya?” 

“Husband? Arvin, you can’t--” 

“I wanna.” 

“But--” 

“Baby boy’s not mine. No one else needa know. Them folks in Knockemstiff, the don’t go so far. And the next one will be mine. Maybe a girl--” 

“Next one?” 

“Uh huh, gonna give this one lots of brothers and sisters,” he puts his hand on your stomach. 

“I...” your heart sinks from on high. 

He’s quiet, measuring the silence as you do too. You peer into the front room then wince as he turns the light in your direction. You shield yourself as it shines in your eyes. 

“Well, you gonna tell me no?” His voice is low and silty. “Cause I don’t think no one’s gonna take you away from me. Ain’t no one else want you.” 

It’s like a knife sinking into your gut. Your frown and grab his hand, trying to shove it off your stomach. Why would he say that? He twists free of your grasp and clings to you instead. He turns the light under his chin so it casts his features in a sinister glow. 

“Without me, you and that baby’d be frozen to the side of the street,” he sneers. “All’s I’m tryna do is give you everything, you could at least do the same.” 

[astralis-ortus]

everything will be okay

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— everyone deserves a chan in their lifes.

w.count → 0.4k genre → hurt/comfort warning → mentions of traumatic experiences, mild cussing, subtle mention of possible intoxication a.n → could be triggering, so please check in with yourself if you're in a good headspace before reading ⋆ see masterlist

wouldn’t it be nice to be chan’s friend?

sometimes he’d call you up just to show some random stuff he’d been working on, or maybe he’d tell you about something odd he came across just a while earlier that reminds him of you. sometimes it’s a simple voice call, but more often than not he’d facetime you even if it’s just a couple minutes long. he’d take the time you check up on you, because he knows what it feels like to be lonely and didn’t want his friends to ever feel the same way.

when he’s on break, chan would be sure to make up all the postponed and rescheduled game nights or short getaways he couldn’t tag in. he’d go through lengths to make sure everything is perfect; be it something as simple as foods, to something bigger like flight tickets and accomodation. after all, he wants everyone to be happy during the rare times he could spend with them—so when next time he again became the only one to miss out on all the fun, the lot wouldn’t forget to keep him up to speed and looked forward to the next time he could be there in person.

oh, don’t even start with birthdays. chan would make sure the presents he got you is the perfect fit for you. sometimes he’d just straight up ask what you wanted or need, but on the rare occasions he wanted to go the extra length (or maybe when you just refuse to take any presents from him), he’d definitely ask around your friend group to hear about any squeak of ‘oh i need to buy this’ or ‘damn i really wanted that thing’ you might’ve let slip within the past couple months. he'd want to make you feel the best on your birthdays, because he knew how terrifying it is to feel like hitting rock bottom on his birthdays.

as your best friend, chan wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything when you texted him you needed someone to talk to. he’d come over with sweets and ice cream because he didn’t want you to intoxicate yourself while you’re not even in your best shape, or if he’s not physically able to be there, he’d make sure to facetime you straight away while texting a couple other friends to physically drop by and check up on you. chan would be there and listen, because he knew how suffocating it is having to bottle everything up inside.

chan would be the best out of any friends you’ve ever had in your life,

hence,

when it’s your time to be there for chan,

no matter how big or small his worries might be,

you’d make sure to show up for him in a heartbeat.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[antonluvr]

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 3-4?

synopsis: sohee decides to throw a party. anton and y/n continue to sneak around..

what could possibly happen next..stay tuned

word count: 7.5k>

status: 4/? (this 2 chapters in one)

content warning: explicit sexual content, oral (fem and male receiving), drunk sex, slight mutual masturbation (?), idk what else to tag lmaoo

please leave feedback :)

The morning sun filtered through your curtains, casting a gentle glow over your room as you stretched, thoughts of last night with Anton lingering in your mind. His kiss, the way his hands felt on you, replayed vividly. You reach for your phone and settle back into bed, the cool sheets enveloping you. With a giddy excitement, you prepare to spill everything to your online besties, Taro and Sung. 

You’d been friends with them for years, bonding over shared interests and countless late-night conversations. They were all well aware of your history with Anton–a childhood friend with whom you’d recently felt a growing connection beyond mere friendship. Whenever you needed advice or just a sympathetic ear, they were always there. 

Just as you were about to text them, Sohee’s voice echoed from downstairs. “Hey, Y/N,  are you up? I need your help please!” Rolling your eyes, you chose to ignore him for the moment, fingers quickly tapping across the screen.

TEXTING CYBER BULLIES:

y/n: good morning :) guess whos filling my mind this morning …

taro: hmm anton 👀

sung: yeah, i second that. it has to be anton 

You grinned at their responses, fingers flying over the keyboard as you recounted last night's movie night. The way you were both snuggled up sharing light touches before the moment turned into something more. 

y/n: you won’t believe what happened last night 

taro: ooh ?? pls tell

sung: spill right now

y/n: well last night anton came over for a movie night, right. well we had a few shots of soju and we ended up kissing,, but like more heated …

taro: WAIT what!? i thought you guys were just friends!! did i miss a chapter 

sung: no stupid. that’s the news. BUT Y/N WE NEED MORE INFO NEOW.

sung: we know you had a fat crush on this man, but never expected you to actually do anything about it..

y/n: hey- i would’ve done something about it

y/n: i would like the jury to know that i did in fact make the first move

taro: and when you say the kissing got heated? what do you mean by that

y/n: um we might’ve felt each other up. and he definitely kissed me elsewhere.. you get the picture

sung: oh we will be facetiming later to discuss more details. you aren’t getting out of that

taro: yeah for sure. but how are you feeling? what are you gonna do??

y/n: well we agreed to keep it a secret for now, just so we can figure out our feelings for real. and how to break it to sohee if we progress further.

sung: SOHEE DOESN’T KNOW ?? DUDE 

y/n: hey remember when i said “we agreed to keep it a secret” OF COURSE SOHEE DOESN’T KNOW STUPID.

sung: well was it just heated kissing? if so i don’t think there’s any harm in that.

y/n: about that heheh…

taro: y/n i swear to god,, what else are you hiding from us .

y/n: after he left last night, we were texting- actually let me send a screenshot of our texts

y/n: *screenshot*

sung: .. no freaking way .. Y/N HE SNUCK OVER AFTER HE LEFT FOR THE NIGHT ..oh he’s got it bad for you

taro: oh 0.0 “i would love to feel you right now” you’re actually insane for that (i love it)

y/n: um so he did in fact sneak over. let’s just say a man can please and ya girl can please.

taro: and sohee had no idea anton came back over last night? girl you are so in the clear right now

sung: this is some next-level drama. i am living for this BUT how are you keeping this a secret?

y/n: idk 😭 that’s the hard part. we don’t really get a lot of 1:1 time because of sohee

taro: hmm maybe you can both sneak away tn since sohee’s throwing a party

y/n: how do you know he- stalker

sung: taro quit stalking sohee’s socials

taro: i like to know things, okay 

y/n: but taro does have a point. there will be enough people around so anton and i can have some alone time

taro: im living for the secret rendezvous with you and anton. so what’s the next move?

y/n:  i want to look good tonight. idk the thought of looking so good in front of anton when he has to act normal is making me go crazy

taro: you already know i support. pls send outfit ideas

As you laughed at their playful encouragement, Sohee called again, louder this time, “Y/N! Seriously, come help me. I know you’re up, I can hear you laughing.” You smirked and typed one last message.

y/n: i will!! i gotta go before sohee loses it -.-

You head downstairs and grab a cup of coffee to kickstart your day. Sohee enters, carrying a box of lights and other decorations. 

“Finally! I thought you were trying to skip out on helping me,” Sohee says, placing the box next to you. 

“I don’t get why we need all these lights. We already have lights in the backyard,” you reply, eyeing the tangled mess.

“Yeah, but these are way better. Anyway, I did have something I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he begins, leaning against the counter with a more serious expression.

Your heart skips a beat, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “What about it?”

Sohee sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I noticed something weird when I joined you both for that movie last night. Like something with Anton,” he says, his tone filled with curiosity. “Anton seemed kind of off, like he was distracted.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you struggle to maintain a calm facade. “Distracted? What do you mean?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the slight tremor in your voice betrays you.

Sohee pours himself some coffee, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know, just a feeling. He was quieter than usual. Maybe he’s got something on his mind.”

You force a laugh, relieved that Sohee hasn’t pieced anything together. “Yeah, he’s been stressed about work lately. Probably just that.”

Sohee shrugs, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Makes sense. Anyway, let’s get these decorations up. The party won’t set itself up.”

You nod, the tension easing as you both start untangling the lights. The relief washes over you, knowing that your secret is still safe for now.

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of party preparations with Sohee. As you helped him hang lights and arrange decorations, your mind kept drifting back to Anton and what the evening might bring. Around midday, while you were putting the final touches in place, Sohee’s phone began buzzing loudly. 

“Sohee, could you please pass me another hook so these lights stop falling?” you called out.

“Sorry, I’m actually going to head out and grab drinks for tonight,” Sohee replied, already reaching for his keys. “Do you mind holding the fort down while I’m gone?”

“Can’t you grab me a hook before you leave?” you retorted, frustration evident in your voice. 

“Well, I’m already out the door, Sorry, I’ll be back in a little while,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“What an ass,” you mutter to yourself. Did he really just leave you to finish setting up for a party he wanted to throw? “Whatever,” you thought. “I’ll wrap this up and then get ready for tonight.”

In your room, you laid out your chosen outfit on your bed and took a shower to refresh yourself. The warm water helped relax your nerves, and you spent extra time carefully styling your hair into loose waves that frame your face effortlessly. 

Unlocking your phone, you started a FaceTime call with Taro and Sung to get their opinion on your fit for the night. 

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Taro greeted you enthusiastically as his face appeared on the screen. 

“I need your fashion advice,” you said with a grin, “I already chose this dress, but I have another option in case the jury doesn’t like it.”

Sung leaned forward, curious. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You set your phone up, and backed away from the camera, displaying the dress you had on. A skimpy sundress in a pastel floral print that hugged your curves in all the right places. “Okay, this is the first option. A personal favorite,” you explained, giving a playful twirl to show it off. 

Taro’s eyes widened with approval. “Wow, Y/N you look hot in that dress. It really compliments you so well.”

Sung nods in agreement. “Definitely. It’s perfect for tonight. Anton won’t be able to take his eyes, and maybe even his hands off you.”

Before you could grab the second outfit, Taro exclaimed, “We don’t even need to see the other one. This is perfect!

Sung nodded in agreement. “Yeah, seriously. Anton won’t be able to resist you in that.”

You laughed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Taro said confidently.

“Totally,” Sung added with a grin.

The thrill of teasing Anton added an extra layer of excitement to the night. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he sees you. Taro and Sung could sense your anticipation and share in your excitement. 

“We can’t wait to hear how this plays out for you,” Taro said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yeah, keep us updated,” Sung added. “This is going to be so much fun.”

You smiled, feeling more confident than ever. “Thanks, guys. I’ll let you know how it goes. Tonight is going to be good.”

“Sorry guys, hold on a sec,” you apologize, tapping the screen to switch over to Sohee’s call. The image shifts to a chaotic scene in Sohee’s car, packed with shopping bags brimming with bottles of various liquors.

“Sohee, what’s all this?” you laugh, eyeing the assortment of drinks.

Sohee grins mischievously. “I figured we needed a little something extra for tonight. And look who I found on the way back,” he gestures towards Anton, who waves from the passenger seat, a shy smile on his face. 

Anton leans into the camera view, his voice tinged with humor. “Hey, Y/N. Sohee decided to kidnap me for the cause.”

You chuckle at them, feeling a surge of excitement for the night ahead. “Well, looks like we’re all set then. Thanks, Sohee. See you both soon.” With a wave goodbye, you switch back to Taro and Sung, who are grinning at the unexpected interruption. “Okay, I gotta go, babes. I’m pretty sure Sohee is close to being back and is gonna need help with everything.”

Taro laughed. “Good luck! And remember, we need all the juicy details later.”

“Yeah, and don’t leave anything out!” Sung added.

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the full scoop. Talk to you later.”

The evening air was thick with anticipation as Sohee’s car pulled up to the front of the house. Anton stepped out first, followed closely by Sohee, who was balancing the bags of goodies with practiced ease. They exchanged knowing glances, both fully aware of the surprise that was about to unfold.

You descended the stairs, your presence catching Anton’s attention almost immediately. Anton’s breath caught in his throat as he beheld you in the sundress, the soft pastels playing against your skin like a delicate watercolor. His gaze traced the curve of your waist, the gentle flow of the fabric over your figure, and the way the dress seemed to illuminate you with a subtle radiance.

At that moment, time seemed to slow for Anton. He couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you wore confidence like a second skin, how every movement you made seemed to carry a quiet grace that captivated him anew. Thoughts raced through his mind, a whirlwind of admiration and desire intertwined. 

“Wow,” Anton managed to whisper, the word escaping his lips almost involuntarily. His heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of awe and a deeper, more profound feeling stirring within him. He found himself unable to look away, wanting to etch this moment into his memory. 

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, your smile brightened at the sight of Anton. You could sense his reaction, the unspoken admiration that hung in the air like a delicate thread. It was a moment suspended in time, where words seemed unnecessary amidst the unspoken language of glances and smiles. 

You joined Sohee and Anton as they gathered the remaining supplies from the car. The back seat was filled with bags from different stores, and a variety of beverages. Anton began to unload them while you and Sohee carried them inside. 

“How was the store?” you asked, breaking the silence as they maneuvered through the hallway. 

Anton glanced at you, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. “It was alright. Sohee managed to get all the best deals.”

Sohee nodded in agreement, setting down his load on the kitchen counter. “Definitely, I know what I’m doing. Thanks for helping us by the way.”

You smiled warmly, “Of course, I’m happy to help.”

As they continued unpacking, you reached to grab a big bowl from the top shelf, inadvertently lifting the hem of your dress just enough to expose the bottom of your ass. Anton’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected glimpse, his cheeks flushing as he looked away, trying to maintain composure. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile at his reaction before bending over to now retrieve something you didn’t even need, knowing full well you were testing Anton’s self-control at this point.

As they unpacked the bags, Y/N noticed Anton stealing glances at you from time to time. You couldn’t resist a playful tease. Setting down a bottle, you turned towards Anton. “Enjoying the view?” you ask in a low whisper.

Anton’s cheeks flushed slightly, caught off guard by your directness. He chuckled nervously, trying to play it cool. “Uh, maybe a little,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “Well, I guess that’s a compliment,” she replied, her eyes sparking mischievously.

As they continued unpacking, you reached to grab a big bowl from the top shelf, inadvertently lifting the hem of your dress just enough to expose the bottom of your ass. Anton’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected glimpse, his cheeks flushing as he looked away, trying to maintain composure. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile at his reaction before bending over to now retrieve something you didn’t even need, knowing full well you were testing Anton’s self-control at this point.

Anton shifted his position, feeling the tension between them growing more palpable with each playful gesture. 

“So, Anton,” Sohee called from the other side of the kitchen, oblivious to the teasing. “Can you check if we have enough mixers?”

“Uh, sure,” Anton replied, his voice a bit strained. He moved to the pantry, grateful for the temporary distraction. As he rummaged through the shelves, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, who was now leaning over the counter, her movements slow and deliberate.

You straightened up, catching Anton’s eye once more. She walked over to him, your smile innocent but your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Need any help in there?” she asked sweetly, standing just a bit too close. 

Anton took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I think I’ve got it, thanks,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

As you reached for a bottle on the shelf next to Anton, you subtly grazed his side, your touch light and seemingly accidental but enough to send a shiver through Anton. He tensed, trying to remain composed as the playful gesture heightened the already charged atmosphere between them, 

“Sohee,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light and playful, “do we have enough glasses for the drinks?”

Sohee nodded, still focused on his own task. “Yeah, they should be in the cabinet above the sink.”

You turned back to Anton, giving him a final teasing smile before moving away to fetch the glasses. Anton exhaled slowly, his mind racing with thoughts of you and your playful antics. He knew the evening was only just beginning, and he had a feeling your teasing was far from over.

With Sohee bustling in the kitchen, organizing the drinks and setting out other necessities, you seized the opportunity to steak a moment alone with Anton. You flashes him a smile, a silent invitation to join you in a corner of the living room away from Sohee.

Anton hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Sohee to ensure he wouldn’t notice their brief absence. Then, unable to resist your playful allure, he followed you to the secluded corner. 

You leaned against the wall, your eyes glinting with mischief as you watched Anton approach. “Finally, some peace and quiet,” you murmured, your voice soft and inviting. 

Anton nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Yeah, it’s been a little hectic in there,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you.

You took a step closer, your proximity sending a shiver down Anton’s spine. “I noticed you’ve been a bit distracted,”  you teased, your fingers lightly brushing his arm.

Anton swallowed hard, the touch of your fingers sending a wave of warmth through him. “It’s hard not to be,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your smile widened, pleased by his honesty. “Good to know I have that effect on you,” you said, your tone playful yet sincere. You leaned in, your lips just inches from his ear. “You know, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else.”

Anton’s heart raced, the intimacy of the moment almost overwhelming. “You’re not making it easy for me either,” he confessed, his breath hitching. 

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe that’s the point,” she whispered, your lips brushing against his ear ever so slightly.

"Imagine what else I could do if we were alone... just the two of us."

Before you could pull back, Anton’s hands were on you, unable to resist any longer. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

You shivered at his touch, a pleased smile playing on your lips. “You can’t seem to take your hands off me, can you?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes dark with invitation. 

“Can you blame me?” Anton replied, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I can’t resist touching you.”

“Good to know,” you whispered back, enjoying the way his touch sent waves of heat through you. “But we can’t stay hidden forever. Sohee will start wondering where we went.”

Anton was about to respond, to the close distance between you, when Sohee’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Anton! Can you give me a hand with these coolers? They're too heavy for me to lift alone."

Anton groaned inwardly, the moment shattered by the interruption. He pulled back reluctantly, glancing at you, who wore an amused expression. "Duty calls," you said with a wink, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Anton called back to Sohee, his voice tinged with frustration.

Moments later, you both joined Sohee in welcoming their friends, the atmosphere quickly filling with lively chatter and music. The front door swung open repeatedly as guests arrived, bringing with them bursts of laughter and clinking of bottles. Sohee, in his element, floated around the room and backyard, ensuring everyone had a drink and was having a good time. 

As the night progressed, you found yourself standing at the makeshift bard in the backyard. You leaned over to grab a pop from the lower shelf, your dress riding up slightly. Anton’s breath hitched instinctively reaching out to steady you, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin.

“You really can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” you whispered, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you straightened up, holding the can of pop.

Anton’s eyes darkened, his voice low as he replied, “You’re impossible to resist. I told you.”

Before you could respond, a group of friends approached them, breaking the intimate moment. You both plastered on friendly smiles, engaging in casual conversation, but the tension between you remained palpable.

As the party buzzed with energy, music thumped and laughter filled the air. Anton leaned in, whispering to you, “Wanna get out of here?”

You shared a smirk and began weaving your way through the crowd, aiming for upstairs. Just as you reached the stairs, Sohee, visibly tipsy, intercepted you, swaying slightly.

“Hey! Where are you two sneaking off to?” he asked, his words slurring a bit. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

You and Anton exchanged a look, their escape thwarted. “Uh, just going to get more drinks. Looks like we’re running low,” you replied, trying to act natural.

Sohee grinned. “Perfect! That’s what I was going to ask you both to do. It’s like you read my mind.”

“Yeah, of course, Sohee,” Anton replied, chuckling. “Anything for you.”

Sohee beamed. “You guys are the best!” I’ll make sure the party doesn’t die while you’re gone.”

As the car hummed down the road, the city lights flickering past, Anton’s hand found its way to your thigh, tracing soft patterns with his fingertips. His touch sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“Can’t believe Sohee actually sent us on a beer run,” you chuckled, stealing a glance at Anton.

He smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.” His hand slid higher, a teasing warmth spreading through your body. 

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise within you. “You think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

Anton leaned closer, his voice low and filled with a playful challenge. “Why would I want to, when you look so good?” His warm breath brushed against your ear, sending tingles down your spine.

You laughed softly, but then gleamed at the road ahead. “Hey, pay attention to the road,” you teased, your voice mock-serious.

Anton chuckled, his hand still gently exploring. “Don’t worry,” he said confidently, his tone cocky and flirty. “I’ve got my hands–and eyes–right where they need to be.”

The car pulled up to the liquor store, and you both hopped out to grab the beers Sohee had requested, along with other beverages. The task was simple enough, but the tension between you both was high.

As he drove, the tension between you both grew undeniable. Anton glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he said, his voice low and suggestive, “we have a bit of time before we head back.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” you asked, your voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

Without answering, Anton turned down a quiet, secluded road, pulling over in a spot hidden by trees. He killed the engine and looked at Y/N with a smirk. “Why don’t we take a little detour?” 

You grinned, heart pounding with anticipation. “Lead the way,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, already intoxicated by the daring excitement of what was to come.

Anton flashed a wicked smile and opened his door, stepping out of the driver's seat. He moved around the car, opening the back door and gesturing for you to join him. “Get in the backseat,” he suggested, his tone a mix of command and invitation.

As they settled into the backseat, Anton’s lips captured yours, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed eagerly. He traced up your sides, fingers brushing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your breaths mingling in the confined space. Anton’s hands explored your curves, sliding beneath your dress, his touch warm and urgent.

He felt you shiver as his hand ventured higher, fingers tracing the soft fabric of your panties. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

You gasped, your body responding to his touch, the sensation intoxicating. Anton’s fingers pressed lightly over you, feeling the heat radiating, his own desire intensifying.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, lips brushing against your ear. The thrill of their secret moment, hidden away from the world, only heightened their connection.

You whimpered softly, your breath hitching as Anton’s fingers continued their tantalizing exploration. Emboldened by your response, he kissed a trail down your neck, his lips trailing lower with each tender caress. He knelt between your legs, his gaze locked with yours, filled with hunger.

"Anton…" you breathed out as his palms found their way upwards. "We should go back," you said, feeling a mix of urgency and desire.

"We should," he agreed, though his hands showed no intention of stopping. His fingers teased your skin, drawing you closer.

"We need to get back," you insisted, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"Then let's stop," Anton suggested, his lips brushing against yours.

"You first," you challenged, a playful smile on your lips.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice low and filled with need.

"Then let's finish," you replied, surrendering to the heated moment. Your lips met his once more, lost in the intensity of your connection. The urgency of the world outside faded into oblivion as you both gave in to the passionate, stolen moments in the backseat of the car.

Anton’s mouth found your inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path of fire along your skin. Your fingers threaded through his hair, urging him closer as he teased you, building tension to an unbearable peak. When his lips finally met your core, it was like an electric shock, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His touch was expert, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. Your breath hitched with each flick of his tongue, the gentle sucking on your clit sending tremors of delight through your ent9ire being. He alternated between soft, teasing licks and firmer strokes, each one eliciting a gasp or maon from your lips. The sensations were almost too much, your body arching towards him, seeking more of that friction.

“Anton, please,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built inside you.

“Tell me what you want,” he hummed against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

Anton’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. His tongue moved with a rhythm that drove you wild. His mouth was warm and insistent, every movement designed just for you, to bring you over the edge. 

“You taste so good,” he growled softly, his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

His lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking and then releasing, only to repeat the motion. You felt your muscles tighten in anticipation, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter.

“Oh, god, Anton,” you moaned, your hips bucking against his mouth. “I’m so close…”

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your wet skin, before diving back down with renewed vigor. His tongue pressed firmly against your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, causing your toes to curl.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the edge of release approaching, your body tensing as your high was nearing. Anton sensed this, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you even closer, his tongue working you relentlessly. 

Anton flicked his tongue rapidly against your clit and then sucked your clit hard, the coil inside you snapped. You cry out Anton’s name with ecstasy, your body trembling with the intensity. Anton continued to work you through your high, his mouth never leaving your core. 

He didn't stop until he had drawn out every last shiver and moan from you, his tongue soothing and gentle now, easing you down from the heights of pleasure. When you finally collapsed back against the seat, spent and breathless, Anton kissed his way back up your body, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of satisfaction.

Anton’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as you pushed him gently against the seat. You kissed your way down his neck, your lips trailing along his collarbone and chest. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a husky growl. “What are you doing?”

You smiled against his skin, your hands moving to unbutton his jeans. ‘Giving you what you deserve,” you replied, your voice low and seductive.

“We should go back now,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction, his body already responding to your touch.

You slid his jeans down, your fingers tracing the hard outline of his arousal through his boxers. Anton’s breath quickened, his eyes never leaving yours. 

With a hunger that matched his own, you lowered yourself between his legs, your lips brushing against his inner thigh. Anton’s sharp intake of breath spurred you on, your mouth finding him eagerly. You started with soft, teasing kisses along his length, your tongue darting out to taste him,

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands now tangling in your hair.

You looked up at him, eyes full of mischief. “That’s the idea,” you said, before taking him fully into your mouth. Your tongue danced along his member, teasing and tasting him as you worked him to the same completion he did to you moments before. 

Anton’s grip on the seat tightened as he surrendered to the pleasure you gave him. He whispered words of encouragement to you as you continued your attack. You increased your pace, your movements becoming more fervent as you felt him growing harder against your tongue. His hips bucked slightly, matching your rhythm, and you knew he was close.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice strained with need. “I’m so close, I’m about to come…”

You only redoubled your efforts, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before descending again. With a final stroke, you felt him reach his high, his release filling your mouth as he groaned your name. You swallowed, taking every last bit, your eyes locked. 

As you pulled back, you stuck your tongue out to show Anton you had swallowed every last bit. The sight alone made him lose it, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a dazed look. 

“God,” is all he managed to breathe out. 

Anton pulled you into a lingering kiss before leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “We should probably get back,” he said, his voice low. 

You smiled, your body still humming from the intensity of your shared moment. “Yeah, before Sohee starts wondering where we are.”

With a reluctant sigh, you both fixed your clothes and climbed back into the front seats. The car hummed to life, and as you drove back to the party, the tension between you and Anton was replaced with comfortable silence. The intimacy of your recent encounter still lingering in the air. 

As the car approached the party, the sound of music and laughter grew louder. You could see the house lit up, people milling about in the front yard, holding drinks and talking animatedly. Anton parked the car and turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Stepping out of the car, you both grabbed the bags of drinks and headed towards the house. The moment you walked in, you were greeted by a way more drunk Sohee, his eyes widening with relief and excitement.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as he approached you. "I was starting to think you guys got lost or something."

Anton chuckled, handing Sohee a bag of drinks. "Just had a little detour. But we got everything you asked for."

Sohee swayed a bit, peering into the bag with a grin. “Perfect! You guys are lifesavers.” He reached out to pat Anton on the shoulder but paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Hey, uh, Anton…your fly is down.”

Anton quickly looked down, his cheeks reddening slightly as he zipped up. “Oops, must’ve been in a hurry. We stopped to use the bathroom,” he said with a casual laugh.

Sohee then turned his attention to you, his gaze lingering on  your slightly tousled hair. “And Y/N, your hair is looking a mess.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you quickly tried to smooth your hair. “Yeah, the wind was crazy out there.”

Sohee laughed, giving you a playful shove. “Sure, sure. You might want to keep that under control unless you want to scare everyone away.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t smile at how even drunk Sohee still tries to bully you. “Thanks for the advice, dick.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his gaze, but he was too far gone to dwell on it. “Well, as long as you’re back with the drinks. Let’s keep this party going!”

He grabbed a beer from the bag and cracked it open, raising it in a toast. “ To the best beer runners ever!”

You and Anton exchanged a look of relief, clinking your bottles together before taking a sip. The party continued in full swing, the music thumping and laughter filling the air. Sohee, now distracted by other friends, quickly forgot his earlier suspicions, and you and Anton were able to blend back into the lively atmosphere, the thrill of your secret adding an extra spark to the night.

Anton found himself with his friends Wonbin and Eunseok, their group gathered in the kitchen with bottles in hand. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Anton glanced outside where you were sitting with your friends Karina and Ningning at a small table, a bit away from the main crowd. You looked radiant, your laughter infectious as you animatedly chatted with the girls. 

Karina nudged you playfully, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You and Anton seem awfully close tonight,” she remarked, her tone teasing. 

You shrugged nonchalantly, though your cheeks warmed at the comment. “He’s just my best friend, and you know that,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile.

Ningning leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You two would make a cute couple, you know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not like that,” you insisted, but the words felt less convincing even to your own ears. Your gaze drifted back to Anton, who was now engrossed in a story Eunseok  was telling, his smile bright and genuine. 

You stumble upstairs, a little tipsy but still steady enough to navigate the familiar path to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto your bed, the soft fabric of your sundress bunching up around your thighs. Grinning to yourself, you pull out your phone and open a new message to Anton.

y/n: hey handsome ;)

You giggle to yourself, hitting send. It doesn’t take long for your phone to buzz with a response.

Anton: Hey, where’d you go?

y/n: upstairs. needed a break from the noise. u should come join meeee

You bite your lip, your fingers dancing over the keyboard as you continue

y/n: im all alone…in bed…and it’s kind of boring without u

You know Anton is still downstairs with his friends, and the thought of him trying to hide his phone to read your messages makes you giggle. Your phone buzzes again.

Anton: I’m with the guys, I can’t just leave like that

y/n: why not? im more fun than them

You can almost imagine him trying to keep a straight face while reading your texts. Deciding to take it up a notch, you reach for the hem of your dress, hiking it up just enough to reveal your bare skin. Angling the phone just right, you snap a photo and send it to him. 

y/n: see? im not even wearing panties…

A thrill runs through you as you hit send, and you wait, heart pounding, for his response. This time, it takes a bit longer for his reply to come through.

Anton: Holy shit, Y/N. You’re killing me

y/n: u know what would be even better? u… up here with me

You start again, feeling more bold.

y/n: yeah im just laying here, thinking about u…touching myself

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Anton: You are so hot, oh my god…

You grin, knowing you’ve got him right where you want him.

y/n: come on, anton. don’t you want to see what you’re missing ;)

You lie back, anticipation building as you wait for his next move. Downstairs, Anton is struggling to keep his composure, sneaking glances at his phone while his friends are oblivious to his distraction. You can almost feel his tension, his desire to be up there with you instead of stuck trying to act normal.

Finally, his next message comes through. 

Anton: Give me 5 minutes

You smile, your heart racing with excitement. You know that in a few minutes, Anton will be there, and the night is going to take another exhilarating turn. But you decide to push him a little further. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you adjust your dress, pulling it up higher to reveal more. With a sultry look, you take another photo, making sure it captures the curve of your body and the suggestive hint of your touch.

y/n: hurry up…i’m getting impatient

You hit send, your heart racing as you imagine Anton’s reaction. The seconds tick by slowly, each one heightening your excitement. You can almost picture him trying to discreetly look at his phone, his friends none the wiser. 

Your phone buzzes again.

Anton: Damn, Y/N…you’re making this really hard to stay down here.

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of satisfaction.

y/n: just imagine how good it will feel to be up here with me…

The thrill of knowing he’s about to sneak away just for you is intoxicating. You send one final message, wanting to make sure he can’t resist.

y/n: just think about me… laying her, so wet and ready for you…

Another photo follows, this one even more revealing, leaving little to the imagination.

Anton: I’m on my way. 

You hear the creak of the stairs, each step bringing Anton closer. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you quickly check your appearance one last time. The door handle turns, and Anton slips into the room, closing and locking the door quietly behind him.

He stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you sprawled on the bed, your dress hiked up, one hand resting on your inner thigh. His eyes darken with desire, and he walks over, his presence sending shivers down your spine. 

You start to pull your hand away, but he stops you with a firm but gentle command. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you nod shyly, resuming your slow, teasing strokes. His eyes never leave you, his intense gaze making your movements feel even more intimate. You feel your body reacting to his attention, every touch amplified by his look. 

Anton sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach out and touch you but holding back. His restraint only heightens your arousal, and you let out a soft moan, your fingers working urgently. 

“Anton..” you breathe, your voice trembling already with need. “Please…I want you.”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. “I want to watch you a little longer.”

You whimper, your body aching for his touch, but you obey, for fingers continuing to play with your clit. His gaze is almost tangible, the heat in his eyes making you feel more exposed than ever. 

“Please, Anton,” you beg, your voice breaking with desperation. “I need you to touch me.”

His hand covers yours, guiding your movements. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you gasp, your body arching towards him. He watches you intently, his own arousal evident. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you moan, your voice raw with desire. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

He pulls back slightly, he eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “Not yet,” he says firmly. “I want you to make yourself cum first. Show me what you do when I’m not around to help you.” Your eyes widen, and a shiver runs through you. “But Anton,” you whisper,  your voice giving out on you. “I- I can’t… I need you…”

“You can,” he insists, his voice a low growl. “Show me how badly you want it.”

You hesitate for a moment, your body aching for him. But the command in his voice is undeniable. You slide your hand back down, resuming the slow, tortuous strokes, your eyes locked on his. His gaze never wavers, watching every movement, every reaction.

To increase the sensation, you move your free hand up to your breasts, fingers grazing over your nipples. You pinch and tease them, gasping at the added pleasure. The dual actions overwhelm you, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling.

The sensation builds quickly, your own touch suddenly feeling more intense under his watchful eyes. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your hips lifting off the bed as you chase your release. 

“Anton…please…” you moan, your body trembling.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet. “Show me how much you want it.”

The words push you over the edge, your body tensing as the orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, your entire body shuddering with the force of it. 

As you come down from the high, Anton finally moves, his hands replacing yours, his touch sending aftershocks through your oversensitive skin. You notice his hand moving more deliberately over himself, his arousal palpable. 

He stands up, unbuttoning his jeans, his movements slow and knowing. You watch, your eyes fill with a mix of satisfaction and renewed desire as he finally starts to touch himself openly. But even now, his focus still remains on you, his eyes locked on yours as he begins to stroke himself, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You like watching me, don’t you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 

“Yes,” you whisper, your body still trembling from your release. “But I want to do more than just watch. Let me touch you.”

He shakes his head slowly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Not yet,” he says, his voice a tantalizing whisper. “You can look, but no touching.”

You whimper at his words, your core aching with renewed need as you watch him begin to pleasure himself. His movements are skilled and with purpose. His eyes locked onto yours as he slowly stroked himself, edging closer and closer to release. 

“Please, Anton,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He groans, his breath hitching as he slows his strokes, teasing himself. “Not yet,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I want to see you beg for it.”

“Anton,” you moan, your body trembling with desire. “I can’t take it anymore. Please… I need you.”

His eyes darkened with lust, and he moved closer, his hand still working over himself. “Keep begging,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear how much you want it.”

“Please, Anton,” you cry out, your body arching towards him. “I need you so badly. I can’t stand it. Please…”

His eyes flash with satisfaction, and he finally gives in, positioning himself over you. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue teasing yours. You can taste the desire on his lips, feel it in the way his hands roam your body.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice thick with need. He pulls back just enough to align himself with you, the anticipation making you tremble. His eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze as he slowly pushes inside, stretching and filling you in a way that makes you cry out.

Your nails dig into his back, your body arching against his. “Anton,” you gasp, your voice a mix of relief and overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god, yes!”

He moves with a deliberate, unhurried pace, each thrust deep and measured. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you intensifying the sensations coursing through your body. You cling to him, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. 

“I want to feel you come again,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you tighten around me.”

The command in his voice sends a thrill through you, and you can feel the pressure building once more. Your moans become more urgent, your body responding eagerly to his every touch. His pace quickens, his own restraint slipping as he nears his own release. 

“Anton,” you cry out, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. He groans, the sound vibrating through you as he finally lets go, his release triggering another wave of pleasure for you.

He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together. After a moment, he lifts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

You smile, your heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want you to,” you reply softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I want this. I want you.”

He holds you tighter, his lips finding yours once more in a tender, lingering kiss. “Then you have me,” he says, his eyes filled with promise. “Always.”

[marty-parties]

Happy September 15th! Which, if you didn't know, is 'leave a comment day.' I could be wrong though, since my source is a poll i took on my other blog - either way, i've come up with a fun idea.

In honour of ‘leave a comment day’ i’ve made a list of all of my favourite fanfics/authors that I can think of atm, and I wanna leave a nice little note about them and their work! This isn’t in any particular order, tbh it’s mostly me going through my AO3 bookmarks and re-reading all of my fav fanfic, haha. 

I honestly had no idea 'leave a comment day’ was a thing, and if you didn’t either, show your favourite authors that you appreciate them! Anything from a heart emoji, or a key smash, or an insightful/heartfelt comment will do wonders in terms of showing/being appreciated.

A lot of these fics below have influenced me in some way, big or small, into how/what I write today. I guess I wanted to give thanks where I could. (It’s also just really sick to make a doc full of your favourite things,and I highly implore you to do it too, even if you don’t wanna post it. (That's totally fair, no pressure.) I keep going over in my mind what I like about each fic and ‘oh, this fic is different from that, but it’s still fantastic, oh and this fic, too,’ etc. it’s such a fun little snowball effect of positivity, i definitely recommend you do this if you have time and need a pick me up, haha.)

Little note, here, If you’ve seen that I’ve read your fic, but found you’re not on the list - it’s not that I don’t like you/or work! I probably very well did enjoy it! I found as I was making this list it was taking a lot of my free time. (Free time that i’d rather like to use writing or reading more, haha.) And, I feel like this list is already so wickedly long ‘cause I can't shut my mouth to save my life, to add more might be a little bit much to read all in one go. 😅

So, please don’t be upset if that’s the case! ily *mwah* 

Also, there’s a few nsfw fics mention at the end, so if you’re a minor, pls buzz off,  that content isn’t for you! I also recommend you check the links on some of these fics. I think I’ve included warnings where I think they’re due, but you know yourself better than i do. And, who knows, I might’ve accidentally missed a tag or two - So, please take care of yourself out there! 

You’ll notice i’ve either included a source for either the authors tumbr, or AO3. I originally was going to try and do both, but i lost steam. Each story is linked to their author, on some site, promise. 

Last thing, most of these fics are in the undertale fandom, tbh. It’s been my ride or die since highschool, so i’ve got a lot of love and things to say. You won’t find any frans or foncest here, i’m a reader insert girlie, simply put, and I don't care much for those tags on the fics i read. 

Quick legend here:

Complete = complete work

Ongoing = still updating / i think they’re still update

Incomplete = either hiatus, or just incomplete

So, without further ado- 

 Road Side Attraction (Ongoing, teen+ rating) and Dirty Laundry (Complete, teen+ rating)

By Popatochisp  (AO3) / popattochisp (Tumbr)

I’m going to be grouping together fics by author. Usually when I find one I really like, i really lurk around their tumblr/AO3 for others, haha.

–AND because I can’t think of one fic without the other. I find myself going back to read them both quite frequently, usually on rotation,  they’re my little bedtime stories i keep on repeat in my mind, lol. 

I mean, if you’re in the undertale fandom how can you not know about pop? For me, them (and luluwrites, among a few others i can’t remember rn,) –were really impactful to me growing up, as I think it was to a lot of people. (Tbh they’re still impactful, actually. I find myself going back even pretty often to read the same fics I read in high school.) They’re like the one piece of media you read in English class in high school that sticks with you throughout your adult life. (Looking at you, monkey’s paw.)

Pop has like 1,000 different au’s to choose from, all with fantastic and deep characterizations and lore.( I don’t know how they do it, i’m only writing a/b ONE skeleton rn, and i feel like a hamster on a wheel trying to get his characterization right.  I couldn’t imagine doing that for every single au they have. God damn.) 

I especially love Roadside Attraction, because of how easily i can relate to it? I’m deep in the sticks, a town more populated by livestock and people. When I read this, I can really put myself i MC’s shoes - b/c i’ve been there! (Hah, maybe not the dating skeletons part, granted, lol.) But it’s such a fantastic read, I love any and all media that has a vibe that it could take place in like a   rural Montana. (think scenes in Twilight. Tall spruce/pine trees, misty morning, the possibility of seeing bigfoot, that sorta thing.) 

And Dirty Laundry? Come on, dude. What a love letter to the swapfell universe, truly. If you haven't read it, you gotta. The world building, and the changing POV’s are so damn good, that every chapter feels crisp, and like you’ve got a really good inside scoop of each character. You can’t knock the characterization in this one, fellas. All the dynamics are so dead on - how Sans and Papyrus interact, how Sans and Alphys – dude, even how Sans and Toriel interact read so deeply in character. Everyone’s motives and ideas make sense to each character and the conflict that it  brings. Big fan. 10/10, will definitely read again and again. (There’s also a ‘Menswear addition, where the reader has he/him pronouns if that’s your cup of tea!) 

Bones Picked Clean (Incomplete, teen+ rating) and) Apéritifs (Ongoing, Mature rating)

By Skelezbian (tumblr) / luluwrites (on AO3)

Woof, where do I start?? I think Bones Picked Clean is another one of the first fics I remember being a really impactful piece of undertale fanwork that stuck with me. I know they’re not the one who created the whole ‘lodge’ scenario, (if you know, you know. Thank you @Tyrant_Tortoise, we’ll be seeing you next,) but they put a spin on it that is so interesting to see. The problems feel very realistic, like something that can easily happen in a house full of busy bodies with not enough communication. And, ohmygod the MC. My first love, truly. You get to see each set of skeleton brother’s, and watch how MC’s befriends them all. Granted, they have a track record of putting themselves in dangerous situations, for reasons revealed in the fic, but they’ve got a heart of gold, and a PHD in being a sweetheart.

The horrortale boys really shine here. I haven’t read much horrortale centric fanfics, but I really like the soft horrorale’ spin. The healing after the damage, the sunshine after the storm, watching the fauna overgrow, etc. I love watching characters grow when love is shown, and here, you can really see it here. I love domesticity, and using food as a love language– which is something this fic has in spades!

(I also love love swapfell characterization in this fic, chapter 13 does a REALLY good job of walking you through the mindspace of sf pap. But in terms of favourties, i’d have to say that would be Chapter 18. You get to see sf pap’s relationship with his brother!  You really see/understand their dynamic, and how they really act as brothers behind closed doors. The other reason it’s a favourite is the inherit domesticity! Maybe I’m a sucker for the normie, slice of life, but how MC and sans chit chat at the start of the chapter is so cute! )

Warning: mention of past cannibalism, past murder, past abuse? I think that’s it, maybe check the tags to be sure. They sound scary, but I promise it’s a very sweet story. 

Ohh, Apéritifs. First of all, what a clever name! I’m a sucker for word play, and this title alone really did it for me, haha. (if you don’t get it, please google ‘define Apéritifs’, and you’ll be just as jazzed as me.)  They’re three stand alone one-shots featuring a  different skeleton each chapter. I will say, I think chapter 3 is my fav. It’s actually heavily inspired me to make one of my one shots - it’s that good! I love the world building in it, as well. Really, you can’t go wrong. (Lulu really knows how to nail flirty dialogue, in very funny ways. ‘“so, you a fan of spare ribs, or just mine?”’ (ch. 3 – Apéritifs) KILLS ME, oh my god, what a funny flirty little one-liner. 

Skeleton Squatters and The LandLady (Incomplete, teen+ rating)

By Tyrant_Tortoise (AO3) tyranttortoise (Tumblr)

Man– SSLL walked so we all could run. The amount of ‘lodge’ type fanfic dynamic i’ve seen, BECAUSE of this fic is wild. I might be wrong in saying this, but I think they were the one who came up with the whole ‘lodge’ type scenario, like all the reverse harems with all the au’s. 

I haven’t read anything of theirs in a long time, but I wanna pay my respects where respects are due. Tyrant made one hell of an influential fanfic, enough so, that I’m pretty sure if I had a timeline of fandom evolution on undertale alone– I think there would be a noticeable difference in the before and after SSLL.  Which, is so sick!! To have influenced a whole fandom with a concept that we’re still seeing it years later? (I get that trends sorta tend to last longer in fandoms than they do irl, but isn’t that such a neat thing to think about?) 

I’m going to age myself (and maybe you, reading this a bit, but–) the first chapter was posted in 2017. 2017! Isn’t that nuts to think about? I was literally 17 at the time. No WONDER it stuck with me, my teenage brain was looking for all the  serotonin it could get from fandoms.  (wow. Things haven't changed all that much for me, haha. 

Skeleton Ex Machina (Incomplete, teen+ rating)

By Cryptid_jack (AO3)

Ohh, okay, for all the SSLL fans out there, you probably already know who cryptid_jack is. And if not, I'll gladly tell you!

They’ve made this cool ass AI AU (it’s a LOT cooler than it sounds, I promise!) in their words, ‘a fanfic of a fanfic’ that’s actually in Skeleton Squatters and The LandLady (see above.) I’d recommend reading SSLL to fully understand this - although, if you’re good at picking up context clues, or maybe don’t mind missing some context, I don’t necessarily think you’d have to, since jack does a really good job of showing the reader everything that’s going on. (although, i really  recommend you do.)

I think this au is so cool, it’s literally tagged as ‘Quarantine Sans’ (which, i’ll be the first to say, that maybe that name didn’t hold up too well, with recent 2020 events, an’ all that. Pandemic aside, it’s a cool name for an AU!) 

It’s also really fun to see two friends in the fandom interact with each other's works like this. Even reading the note at the start of the fic, you can just feel the camaraderie and care that went into paying each other's proper respects. 

Big big ups, hats off to proper manners and friendship!

All’s Fair In Love and (Prank) War (Incomplete, teen+ rating)

By torrikor (AO3)

Ohh, this is a short and sweet 2 chapter read. I don’t the author is going to circle back to it, but i suggest you read it anyways! the idea is so so good! In essence, MC and sf sans are roommates, and MC starts a prank war. I love love love their dynamic, their bickering is a real treat to read, that, coupled with their size difference? Sign me up!

My Favorite Thing (Complete, teen+ rating) and A Conversation Starter ( Complete, teen+ rating) 

By peachwhimzy (AO3) peachwhimzy-things (Tumblr)

I’m a slut for their characterization of sf pap here, oh my god. Both are so so good, and i know  i must sound like a broken record by saying I love how this author interpreted his character - but i can’t help it! So many people have good ideas and ways to showcase a character! Sue me.  

A Conversation Starter is another one that’s inspired me to write a little one-shot. It’s so fantastically written, sf Papyrus and MC are at a bus station, both the first human and monster either have met. The world building is subtle, but wonderfully done. MC is so damn cute in this, and so is Papyrus, who’s really just trying to keep the conversation going, lol. There’s a delightful slice of life aspect to this. 

Honestly, a lot of of Peach’s work feel very domestic, and sweet, and romantic. Sorta like i’m reading a studio Ghibli movie. Do yourself a favour and go check em out!

Late Night Shift Romance (Complete, teen+ rating)

By Inumaru12 (AO3)

The one fic on here that’s not a romance,how about that. (I guess that’s not technically true. There's possibly something budding, if you squint. I always read it as platonic friendship- it’s fanfic! Read it with whatever context you’d like!)

Burgerpants and MC are at the same convenient store late at night, and there’s a robbery. Friendship ensues. I love seeing the background character of undertale, and honestly, who doesn't relate to Burgerpants? Perpetually working shitty minimum wage jobs, trying to chase his dreams - that’s rough. I appreciate a character who can give a nod to class solidarity.. I think Inmuaru12 did so well writing his character, it feels like he was plucked out of the game himself, haha. 

My Dearly Detested Delivery Man, (Complete, teen+ rating) and Black Coffee (Complete, general audiences rating) 

By Little_old_lady (AO3)

Lol yet another set of swap fics, haha. (Yet another great example of different interpretations of the swapfell au!)

My Dearly Detested Delivery man is so  fun, I love an ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ type of fic. I love the dialogue, it’s so funny! Like almost sitcom-esk with how good the one liners are. I think my favourite thing about writing fanfic is the dialogue- but reading what other authors have cooked up is such a treat, too. I love seeing authors with a certain brand of wit/cleverness they think the character would have, and seeing their own comedy bleed through, too sometimes. Little_old_lady does a good job showing the reader what you can gleam from the characters with how they talk to each other, in a way that sets the tone for their relationship. (whether it’s platonic, romantic, etc.)  There’s so many ways you can show friendship, but I think the “passion” (lmao I don’t know what else to call it!)  that’s at the heart of any argument is what can create the difference between friends arguing, vs two people who could be more. (Better put, I think what I like about two characters arguing is the sorta obvious chemistry it can create.) 

Black Coffee does a good job about that too! I’ll be the first and last to say that I love any characters whose love language is ‘argue’ (lol even though irl I wouldn’t last long in any relationship like that, haha. ) I can be hit or miss with a soulmate au, but there’s another layer that I think undertale adds another level to in a soulmate au-since the game established that monsters and magic are real— that it almost feels a little more plausible of an au, than say, a soulmate AU of parks and rec? (no hate on the au or parks and rec, haha. I guess it just feels more “realistic” being that undertale is already a world made of magic, that magical soulmates, is one more step into weird that also makes sense?) I also love the bro-ship mc has with pap, in this one. Coming from someone who’s constantly worked retail/with customers one-on-one, somedays you want to go ape shit, so it’s nice to see an MC who can.

Half Your Age Plus Seven (Complete, teen+ rating) 

By KassyKins

Ohhh, what a little treat this was to read. Tragedy! Romance! Love-rivalry! (NOT a love triangle!) People just Trying to do their best, they’ve got it all! This is another MC i’m in love with. They know what they love, and what they’re passionate about, but when push comes to shove, they’ll choose their family over themselves every single time. I think it’s a very admirable trait to have, integrity, and the ability to self-sacrifice.  I think those two tropes/characteristics can really lead a story in so many interesting directions - weather it be an MC who’s too self-sacrificing, giving parts of themselves to everyone, leaving nothing for themselves, or an MC who’s pushing themselves through the ringer trying to do what they think is right according to their integrity, burning them up in the process.  In this particular case, it’s maybe a little bit of both, coupled with (sad) a slice of life meet cute, with a healthy dose of growing pains. 

There’s something about it that always hits extra hard to me, the ‘thrust into the lime light, or power, or a position they have no business being in. But, they’ve got people on the line, their people to take care of, so by god they’ll try.’ There’s something so tragic and poetic about it – but who knows, maybe I'm waxing poetic about the eldest daughter trope. 

This fic really nicely written, and there’s so many fun hijinks and shenanigans in there to make you chuckle. Featuring another MC who’s able to shout at their boss and get away with it- big ups from me, lets goooooo working class!

Fair warning, this is a notable age gap from MC and swapfell gold sans. It is talked about in the story as well. I personally don’t mind it too much, but if that’s a no-go from you, you’ve been warned. (Maybe just check the tags on this one, (spoilers!) I know someone gets pregnant later. But, I know that can freak some folks out, so, heads up.) 

There’s some smut mentioned, but it doesn’t go into detail about it, so i’ll leave it above the NSFW section. Just fair warning! (Maybe not a story for minors? I don’t know, read at your own discretion if you are?) 

For the smut mention, be warned that I couldn’t find any age in their bio, do with that what you will. 

And Now It’s Crystal Clear(Complete, teen+ rating)

By nighttimelights (AO3)

Oh, man. What another banger read. 

Fun fact- i read this in . . . highschool? But i forgot the name of the fic,and it took me FOREVER, im talking YEARS before I found it again. I actually gave up the hunt, and just found it again one day– what an utter joy that was for me to rediscover it. I felt like I ran into my highschool sweetheart at the grocery store after not thinking about them in years. 

It’s really cool concept on the whole ‘machine gaster’ situation. I respect someone so damn much who incorporates a bit of sci-sfi in their fics, I have no idea how to write it, but I love to read it/see it in media. So to see it, and understand it, and how it’s relevant to the plot is a real treat!

I also love the ending.  :)

Wish Bone (Ongoing, Explicit rating)

By timeofjuly

I could not, in good conscience make this list without including my bestie, the OG and probably the reason why I'm actually posting what I'm writing today. I really can’t sing their praises high enough – but for the sake of comment day, I sure can try, haha.

July really does a good job of creating a wicked atmosphere in her works. The stark difference between Wish Bone (a political romance drama) and Resisting the Currents (reverse harem, but the gf likes you too. It's linked in the nsfw section, please check it out if you can.) is so incredible – they’re really an author that can do both, haha. Even though both fics are so different, what they have in common is their ability to get you right in your feelings, in whichever way the story calls for. 

In Wishbone  – Flint (the MC) has a bad case of being a massive asshole, that’s verging on becoming chronic. Their paranoia has caused their head to permanently be a swivel, and they’ve developed a taste for their own brand of Justice (however malicious as it is.)  That sounds like the start of a vigilante story, but in all truth, Flint is a dick. Which, is another thing July is great at! Writing MC’s who are assholes! You love to hate them, you hate that you love them! 

This is a MC x sf Pap, and later X sf Sans as well, If you’re hoping for a sappy romance, you’ve come to the wrong place. This is a reluctant soulmate AU fic, a fantastic spin on the traditionally very romantic au, a meet ugly, sort of vibe. If you love arguing, political drama, fantastic world building, and a very, sad, broken MC – you’re going to love this. Hell, even if how I described it doesn’t sound appealing to you – I implore you to check it out anyways. July will absolutely knock you on your ass with her writing. By god, there’s themes, motifs and symbolism that I'm not smart enough to analyse, let alone talk about. Whether July intentionally put them there or not, I have no idea, but they’re there and it adds another layer of depth in a delightfully, painful soul crushing way. 

Go, see what I mean for yourself! 

Tbh, i feel like I could go on forever about what I love about their fics, and my little personal theories on them – but I feel like I already look pretty unhinged. For the sake of my ego, i’ve gotta move on. 

In terms of warnings, I think I sorta covered them? There's Plenty of anger, and hatred, ummm monster phobia? There might be some sorta nsfw stuff down the line, thus the rating, but as it stands now it’s smut free! Just a heads up, I suppose. 

 In Two weeks time and Red is my favorite color

By who_wants_a_muffin (AO3) 

My other current ongoing fav, in two weeks time! Another swapfell sans one, to the surprise of absolute of no one, haha. 

This MC is a dude! A man! Which is a refreshing change up, I don’t think there’s many many fics out there with a male leaning/male dominant MC’s. The characterization of MC is very good, 

is so so good, it’s and X sf sans, and he’s got the exact right amount of snark and sass to keep you coming back, haha. (Or, I guess in this case, he keeps coming back. MC works at the pool he frequents.) Their banter is really fun to read, bordering on bickering, really. They’re almost like a little old married couple, haha. Which is to say, you can really feel the chemistry they have even though they’re basically strangers. 

sf Papyrus is such a little shit in this one, i love it. He’s perpetually the youngest brother, and how Muffin writes him is so snarky and funny, and very endearing. 

The chapters are short and sweet, enough so that you can read it a few times in the same day and still enjoy it, even though his updating schedule is crazy fast! I don’t know how he does it, but they’re just motoring along, haha. I get excited whenever I get an email saying Muffin updated. It’s like a little treat to brighten your week.

I’ve been reading a bit of his other stuff, and he just gets it! Like the dynamic between MC and fell sans in Red in my favorite color, is just perfect. I love the soft!underfell au, and he does a really good job of capturing how underfell sans straddles the line between being a bad boy, and a boy that's not all that bad.

I also love the notes he writes, ‘Hello gays and other assorted sillies!’ (from Chapter 2 in Red in my favorite color,) Like COME ON, that’s so funny! 

– Undertale related 

Bonley Hearts Club (Demo available, Ongoing, teen+ rating) 

Bonely Hearts Club (tumblr) 

owl-bones (tumblr) is the Developer and Director and (self proclaimed! I’m not being mean!) Lead Nerd.  Here is a link to their cast, although it might not be fully updated. (It’s  \a big one, so I'm going to leave it as a link.) 

I don’t even know how to begin to explain my love for Bonely Hearts Club. It’s a fanmade game, made entirely of love, which you can tell, even before you play it. The sprites are so cute, and fantastic, and the writing is so in character and on point, do not get me started on the voice acting - which is also incredible. I’m not kidding, when I first played the demo, I immediately followed the voice actors on tumblr after, haha. 

This is the kinda piece of art that you just stand back and look at it, and just go ‘wow’. It’s such a big undertaking! I know very little about game development, but from what i vault remember from my comp sci class - is that is’s hard. Mad respect from me to Owl, and everyone a part of the team/process. 

This is off topic, but I wonder if Toby Fox has read any of these fics, or played the demo of this dating sim, like in the same way Alex Hursh has played a bit of Swooning Over Stans: A Grunkle Dating Sim. I’d pay serious money to have Toby play the dating sim demo. God, could you imagine the energy in that livestream? It would be goddamn electric.

[ Soul Redacted ] (Completed, teen rating) and The Great Noodle Jape (Completed, teen rating) 

By nighttimepixels (game jolt) nighttimepixels (tumblr) 

// active twitter lethalhoopla  

//active tumblr lethalhoopla

Good god, talk about a . . .what, triple, quadruple threat? There’s nothing nighttimepixels can’t do. They write, they make art, they’ve made two complete games, (and the beginning of another,) and they animate!! Like oh my god! Another love letter to the fandom, everything they do is so so good. 

[Soul Redacted] is a very cool rpg sidescroller explorer/mystery, and i’d say a touche of sci-fi in there, too. It has fantastic writing, and features Q! (from Cryptid_jack au, in Skeleton Squatters and The LandLady fromTyrant_Tortoise  fic! see above for all!) Truth be told, I got a little scared playing this. Granted, I played it at like 2 am in the dark - and I am a coward lol. I don’t think the average person will get scared, but fair warning anyways, haha. 

They’re not into the undertale fandom anymore, I don't think. Which is sad to hear, but also understandable. It’s not fun making art and other creations if you’ve lost that spark there. However, if you’re a mass effect fan, they’re making a bunch of art on their other bog. I personally really love their art style, so i’ll gladly keep checking back. Also, there’s so much undertale content on their blog that you’ll be good for a long while. And if not, you can always go back and look again! If you can’t experience it for the first time, the next best thing is to experience it again. 

Warning: I think there’s some flashing lights at some point? Maybe double check the tags on that one if that’s a concern for you. 

The Great Noodle Jape is so damn cute. As night put it, ‘a visnov style silly whodunit’, which I think it captures it perfectly. The writing is so fun, all the characters feel very well written/in character, and i love how they all interact with each other. As well, the sprites are so fantastic! Night has that kind of art style where you just know it's theirs without needing to confirm. 

No warnings that I could think of, other than you’ll be wishing for the experience of playing it for the first time once you’re done.

– non-Undertale related fics - 

Cult of the Lamb—

The Rehabilitation of Death 

By bamsara (AO3) / bamsara (Tumblr)

WOOF. I am an ‘happy ending angst’ lover, and a ‘energies to lovers slow burn,’ and this fic takes the cake on both regards. Truly, who could pine better than a god, who’s named literally ‘The One Who Waits’? What an aptly named character for one of the major troupes in the fic, haha.

But for all you freaks out there (lol me) who don’t mind horror some of the time, I recommend reading it! Even if you’re not into CoTL, the pining is so goddamn good! (Considering it’s about gods, they’ve been pining for hundreds of years without even knowing it–  the slowest of burns, like oh my GOD.) Bam also is known to post longer chapters- so if you like a read that lasts a couple days, PLEASE do yourself a favour and check it out. I don’t wanna spoil anything, but they’re getting to the part where the main couple is starting to be nice to each other, plus, the subplot B couple is starting to sorta shack up too. There are so many good, funny dynamics that are in this fic, that I don’t have enough words to properly explain them. 

They also make fantastic artwork and sketches for just about each scene in their fics - which for all you visual girlies out there (myself, haha.) I think you’d appreciate it! I wish I was that type of triple threat, but I think i’d burn out too quickly if I was also drawing scenes of my fics – which is why I think it’s so impressive when other authors/artists do it! 

 They do art streams pretty frequently, too, and they make stickers too! A true triple threat, 

Just, fair warning-  like Cult of the Lamb (the game the fic is based off,)  this fic mentions a lot about gore, and death, and mention of cults and religion. So if any of that is a turn off, or something you don’t like to read about, this might not be your cup of tea. 

Non-fanfic Undertale fandom related material– 

FNAF—

Solar Lunacy (Incomplete, Mature)

By BamSara

(I kept these two separate on the account they’re different fandoms, lol) 

I was very briefly into the FNAF fandom, I only read a handful of fics— but Solar Lunacy really stuck with me!

Robots with trauma! An overly curious MC! I think what I like most about this, is how driven mc is? Usually it gets them into trouble, haha, but I love that troupe where the MC really puts themselves through the wringer looking for answers. (I.e like ford and bill from gravity falls.)  

What’s not to love? For all you robot fans out there, it’s pretty sick! I’m sure if you dig deep enough on Bam’s tumblr you’ll find all their old DCA fanart, and draw parts from this fic. 

Fair warning! Scary robots, the regular tags of the fnaf fandom (past child abuse/past child murder), robots don’t understand boundaries, maybe check the tags on this one, just in case. 

Sleuth Jesters (Series!) (Complete, teen+ and mature ratings, depending on which fic in the series you’re reading.)

By naffeclipse (AO3)

This was the other FNAF fanfic that really stuck with me when I had the robot bug. (lol)  I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m not overly into the whole ‘mafia boss’ side of self-ships, but if I had to choose one to read for the rest of time –  it would definitely be this one. It’s like a detective noir, where mc is the vigilante who’s only law they follow is their grey moral code - but usually it’s for the good! So you can’t really feel to bad about that, haha. 

Tbh it’s almost hard to verbalise what I like about it, it’s one of those fics that give you a feeling you can’t name, and it’s so frustrating to have this unnamed feeling you can’t quite pinpoint! (PLEASE tell me some of ya’ll know what i’m talking about!)

I feel so tragically for the MC, if that makes sense? They’re constantly putting themselves in harm's way for answers, and for others.  They’re selfless, yet selfish, and they never let anyone too close, except for when they do. There’s some heavy themes and very toxic relationships, but there’s a happy ending! 

Ahh warning for a very possessive, toxic robot, and kidnapping in later fics - i suggest you read the tags just in case! Bam is really good at tagging triggers accordingly, 

Fair warning: blood and injury, very possessive character, toxic relationships (one sided), mention of injury, violence, kidnapping, guns, gunshot  wounds, shootouts, broken bone- probably some more. I recommend checking the tags on this one as well, just to be on the safe side. 

NSFW Below – Minors get out of here pls!

A quick mention, before I get into this–

I tried to check and make sure all the authors below are all well over 18, i’ve indicated which link has their age posted in their bio’s if you’d like to check for yourself. If I couldn’t find it, I made sure to be clear that I don't know. 

Just doing some light housekeeping, here. You should also check the tags on each fic for what kinda . . . stuff it has, lol. 

Play With Me (Incomplete, explicit rating) 

By grimrester (AO3) / grimrester  (tumblr/ age in bio here.) 

Oh my god. Oh my god! For all you queers on the ace/aromatic spectrum just like me, this is the fic for you!

I could easily go back and read this again and again - tbh I already do. It’s plot with porn, and then it turns into porn with plot, but emotional!  love the relationship between MC and Sans. There's something about their intimacy that’s so casual (maybe not the right word for what I mean,) but vulnerable, and realistic, but very enthusiastic and personal? I don’t think I even have the right words to properly and fully describe what all I like about this fic, but what I do know is that I like it a lot, haha. 

I like that it shows sex and intimacy in a different way. I know it’s pretty common for undertale smut to have some kind of ecto junk involved - this one doesn’t. I personally, like the creativity involved in thinking different ways a person can get off that isn’t just penetration. (Don’t get me wrong, that’s in here too, but that comes a little bit later.) 

I’m also s Big Fan of the sf sans interpretation here. It’s like a soft swapfell, one of my favourite version of him. I said it already, but there’s so many ways a person can go with his character, and I really really like the worldbuilding. It’s a nice subtle nod told through the characters. I love his relationship he has with Alphys, it all feels so incredibly in line with the character, even though he’s a swapfell version, he still does have some sort of friendship with her – even if to him it’s under a guise. To me, it’s one of those things that you can see the core traits that make him a sans, and that’s a hard needle to thread! Just an all around great character study. 

ALSO, I think I have a particular penchant for MC’s with oddly specific niche jobs?? In my heart of hearts, Pixy’s (the name of the arcade MC owns in Play with Me) is like right next door to Faunas (the name of the pot store my MC owns in Into The Weeds.) 

Warnings: i’m pretty sure this one is tagged accordingly on AO3, so i’m not going to tag it all here, just know there’s smut. 

Something Good (Ongoing, Mature) 

By skeletonlvr22 (AO3)

WARNING: No age in bio that I could find. This fic isn’t at the smut yet - but becuase of the 'eventual smut' tag, and for the sake of transparency, i’m letting you know. (I’m like 90% sure this person is an adult though, since there’s a tag thanking their husband for their help.) Do what you will with this info, you’ve been warned. 

This is another one of my current reading obsessions lately! 

I think i’m realizing I have a particular penchant for some of the lesser known au’s? (niche, I suppose?) Fellswap Gold Pap sets out on his own in only his trusty bus, to explore the surface above, away from the (over-) protective eyes of his brother. 

This is the escape fantasy of my dreams. A stray skeleton on the adventure of his lifetime, seeing the sights and the city lights. The romance portion in the later chapters is so damn cute too, it’s very much the ‘first love’, type of romance that’s very sweet and charming. (also, c’mon, who doesn't love a coming of age story?) Love love seeing a Fellswap Gold fic, and a Papyrus based one, too! People are so damn creative, I never would've ever thought of this plot for a fic, but now that I know it’s real, I love it!I I’m really not kidding when I say it’s prime escape fantasy material -  I think it would be the cats ass to have a van and travel across north america, thanks skeletonlv22 for letting me vicariously live through Pap in your fic. :) 

Warning: Only the ones i’ve given at the top! It’s a very cute story. I put it in the NSFW section b/c of the eventual smut, there’s none in it now – although, they certainly are starting to get flirty. 

Resisting the Currents (Ongoing, Explicit) 

By timeofjuly (AO3) timeofjuly (Tumblr) 

WARNING: No age in bio that I could find, but I’ve been chit-chatting with July for months now and i’m 99.99% sure they’re well above 18. It’s not my info to give out, and i’m trying to be transparent on my end, do with this info what you will! 

Edit: age confirmed in the tags!

This is easily another fav of mine for sure. 

Resisting the Currents is a reverse harem fic (with all the au’s!) but with a twist - the gf likes you too! It’s a refreshing take on the ‘reverse harem’ tag you see often in the undertale fandom - and holy shit, truly ‘only love can hurt like this.’ The relationship they have with the MC is so painful, verging on devastating. There’s love there! There is! But there’s also hurt, and a lot of it, the kind that doesn’t just go away, not on its own, anyway. I’m trying not to spoil too much, because I truly think you should read it for yourself. 

But, Oh My God, their MC? Holyshit- I have a(n aforementioned) weakness for impressionable MC’s, oftentimes, I end up loving them more than the love interest in the fics.  I can’t help it! The electrician is personable, relatable, and funny! They’re a lovable goofball with a rough past, with a history of doing the wrong things.They're recovering/recovered? (I’m not too sure which is the correct term, here,) drug addict, and they’ve come a long way! They’ve changed a lot, and I love love love to see that kind of realism in an MC. 

If you’re reading RtC (which you should be,) you can 100% see me going apeshit in the comments trying to figure out what the elections and Quinn’s deal is. (ESPECIALLY chapter 11!

(Sorry if they’re not coherent, at one point, those theories made sense in my head, but looking back on them, I think they’re more so like the crazed ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, haha.) 

This fic is in the NSFW section b/c it does have a chapter where two characters get it on, but i can’t say that’s what the whole story is about. I put it down here to be safe rather than sorry, haha. 

Ahh, fair warning, there is past drug mention, and past abuse child abuse I think? Plus, a bit of mention of religion and the negative effects that can have on a person. Read the tags just to be safe!

Shark Teeth (Complete, Mature rating)

By luluwrites (AO3) skelezbian (Tumblr)

Warning: No age in bio that I could find. If it makes you feel any better, they joined AO3 in 2012, while I joined in 2016 and i’m 24 currently. I’m not good at math, but I think we’re all in the clear here. But like always, do with this info what you will! 

I will say, this isn’t full on smut - it’s saucy, but I’m trying to keep anything suggestive, kinda together? 

Not to divulge myself too furiously here, but uh–There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about Shark teeth. C’mon. Y'all get it, right? It’s just a funny, saucy little number! A funny moment that happens between couples that we get to see. There’s so many different interpretations on the fellswaps, (I know i’ve said it a lot,) but Lulu’s just happens to be one of my favourites interpretations!! Sf Sans is a very precarious character, and I think Lulu does a good job showing that the swaps can be written in a multitude of ways, he doesn’t just have to be the dickhead all the time, lmao. They really do a good job showing how he shines, y’know?

Warning: teeth and/or biting? Not full on smut, or anything, but it is saucy. So, take that into consideration. 

The Fulfilling Ordeal of Being Known (Complete, explicit) 

By nighttimepixels (tumblr) / // active on twitter lethalhoopla (age mention in bio here) 

Ohhh, for all my sapphics out there – you’re going to love this. 

Blade (fem  horrortale sans, who’s apart of her ‘Lillytale’ au, a sapphic take on all the au’s,) and MC settling down for a nice night in, MC playing breath of the wild (BIG UPPS, great game, lol) while Blade plays some games of their own - hopefully you get the picture. 

Just some great lady-lovin’ smut! Size difference! If you love the pillow princess treatment, this is the fic for you.

Warnings: (Lesbians? Queers?) really going to town on each other, def NSFW. Check the tags before reading, it’s nothing Dead Dove, or anything - just want you to be aware. 

mothiepixie (tumblr / age in bio here)

mothiepixie (twitter, age in bio here too) 

No fic to tag, but their art? AHHHHH. They’re more active on twitter than tumblr since The Ban, but ohhh their art is very, very good. Very great if you like fictional hunky men, and beautiful shapely ladies. 

Warnings: tasteful (shameless) smut, you’ve been warned, lol

Woof. That was a lot of typing. If you made it this far, circle back to one of the recommendations above and get to reading!

[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

___________________

This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

___________________

For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—��———————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

[sweetjekyll]

Barbecue sauce on my..? oh — PCY

pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

genre: one-shot, established relationship, fluff, smut, baby fever (I guess??), some light crack I guess cause I made everyone too happy to spend time together, non-idol rating: 18+. IF you are not of legal adult age, please do not under any circumstances read this work as it is not meant for underage readers. chapter warnings: shameless consensual SMUT, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!!), impregnation. Honestly, it’s just some sneaky smut (Please read carefully the warning tags in the masterlist and those at the beginning of each new chapter to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings.) word count: 3.6k

↳ Main Masterlist

A/N: high five if you recognize the title from that vine. this was s little “game” I let you guys play by voting members who you wanted to read a smut of! I didn’t really edit it and I might’ve missed some things here and there from lack of attention (feel free to point them out so I can edit and fix them, but please be nice about it!!). Thank you for encouraging me to write when I was going through a tough time, it means a lot to me. Also, rembember how I said this was going to be really short? lol I went over 3k words and added characters, some plot for shits and giggles. don’t pay too much attention to the pics in the collage, I just couldn’t find any neutral sundress pictures that spiked my interest

PS: let me know if you’d like for me to write a piece connected to this with another member, I was thinking about Minseok, since a gave all members a girlfriend, but I kept them all nameless for Reader immersion purposes. Otherwise I can write for other members but unrelated to this plot :) 

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

On the last days of spring, when the weather gets unbearably hot all of a sudden, the only option is to gather around with friends and family and have a cold drink. Shed the heavy cold weather clothes and enjoy some sunbathing in the backyard! At least, that’s what Chanyeol told you repeatedly during the week; he’d been so excited to meet up with all your friends and eat delicious grilled food that he wouldn’t shut up about it throughout the week.

The more he spoke about the activities you would enjoy on the weekend, the more you grew excited and looked forward to it. You couldn’t wait to wear a summer dress and forget about your duties in the office for a day or two, finally catch up with both yours and Chanyeol’s friends and play with Jongdae’s little princess. You and the girls would often joke around about who would be the next couple to have a kid, the guys would just laugh and say it would most likely be Jongdae and his wife, again.

Chanyeol had a big smile plastered on his handsome face as soon as you pulled in the driveway to Minseok’s house, he hadn’t even set foot outside of the car yet he claimed that he could smell the burnt scent of charcoal coming from the back garden. “Trust me, I can smell it.” It was about an hour before noon when you arrived, as you got up early in the morning to get the best deals at the store, had some quick breakfast and got on the road.

“Yes, baby, I’m sure you do.” You laughed as you unbuckled your seatbelt and picked up your purse. “Help me get the bags from the trunk, will you?” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and got out of the car, being immediately greeted by Sehun and his girlfriend, as they pulled up in the driveway too, right behind your car. You were quick to forget the bags with the groceries and squealed out of happiness as soon as you saw your friend, whom you haven’t seen in a while. Her arms brought you in for a tight hug.

“Babe, what happened to us helping each other carry the groceries?” Chanyeol shook his head but he too had a bright smile on his face. He returned the bags with the extra food and drinks for the barbecue inside the trunk to quickly greet Sehun. “Tell me you got a good cut of beef ribs, we only found pork chops at our grocery store.”

Sehun carried a couple of plastic bags from his car and showed them to the older male. “Dude, I had to fight an elderly lady for these. Kyungsoo needs to pull a five-star Michelin on them.” You all laughed at his words, finally picking up everything that you needed to and carried it inside the house.

Inside, the atmosphere was just as lively as you had expected it to be on a Saturday morning. Everyone was already assigned to their duties, from preparing food and mixing ingredients for dipping sauces according to everyone’s preferences, to happily chitchatting and catching up on their daily lives. Gathering together in one place was a difficult challenge, considering some people had hectic work schedules, but not impossible.

It wasn’t long before you and Chanyeol got separated and fell into rhythm with the tasks you needed to help with. Your boyfriend, being the guy with the most handiness skill out of all his friends, took it upon himself to assemble the metal picnic tables in the garden, grumbling how they could’ve called him earlier, instead of messing around with the bolts and screwdrivers.

Kyungsoo was in the backyard too, doing his best at the grill as usual, with his girlfriend and Jongdae assisting him. Not that the other guys or girls couldn’t cook, but the truth was that no one else could give food the flavors only Kyungsoo could. In the kitchen, on the other hand, you helped wrap up and store away all the food that you thought you wouldn’t need for lunch, yet it would still be ready to go on the grill in case people wanted more. You and the girls weren’t really sure, but considering the amount of food your men could stuff in their mouths, each of the couples bought extra things. Minseok’s fridge and freezer could barely hold anything anymore!

“Don’t worry about it!” His fiancée told you cheerfully as she helped you close the overstuffed drawers. “We’ve already agreed on cooking everything and then packing the leftovers for all of you to take home.”

Lunch was going smoothly under the gazebo in the backyard, filled with friendly banter and anecdotes; the food was amazing, the addition of grilled vegetables, some fish side dishes and various dipping sauces helped balance the amount of meat that filled the tables. A few people risked choking on their bites because of Baekhyun’s antics, unable to contain their laughter as he went back and forth with Chanyeol about some stupid challenge… To which Jongin kept mischievously adding fuel to the fire, while his girlfriend was too busy helping you feed Jongdae’s daughter and keep her entertained. You could only imagine how much him and his lovely spouse needed a small break from being parents and just enjoy their time together, while still being one arm length from you across the table.

Time flew by so fast until you reached the late hours of the afternoon. Surprisingly, not many people were exhausted from hours of fooling around and catching up. The charcoal in the grill was lit up once more, but this time Yixing, Junmyeon, Chanyeol and Jongdae were on cooking duty. Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Sehun had to go sleep off some of the soju they had in the afternoon on the sofa in the living room.

You had yet to digest lunch and were honestly feeling pretty stuffed, but playing with the one-year-old Princess made you feel a bit worn out and not very hungry. Jongin helped you keep her entertained even when she didn’t want to take a much needed nap, she was just too full of energy for a tiny human. Her parents and the others tried to attract her attention away from you and Jongin, yet she just wasn’t having any of it, you two were her most favorite people to play with.

Chanyeol smiled absentmindedly at the sight of you carrying around the toddler, it got cool enough for you to be able to play on the grass with most of her toys scattered on a picnic, checkered blanket. His eyes moved back and forth from his hands expertly turning the meat on the grill to you making funny faces to the child. He knew you guys were always joking around about who would have a child next among your group of friends, but what if… it were the two of you? Kids loved you and enjoyed your bright personality, you were always so easy to talk to — okay, maybe babble in this case — and ready to play whenever the kids wanted. Chanyeol loved kids too, he just didn’t pause to think about having children of your own, on a more serious thought.

“She has so much energy and patience with children. Our Princess can be a little overwhelming sometimes.” Jongdae drew Chanyeol’s attention by commenting on his friend’s girlfriend, still appreciating the fact that she kept his child busy all afternoon so he and his wife could enjoy a rather peaceful barbecue with their friends. “So when are you going to have one of your own?”

“Jongdae!” His wife called out behind him as she came to collect a hot plate with more food. “You can’t just when Chanyeol and Y/N are going to have a child just because you bet on it.”

“You did what?” Yixing laughed out loud, covering his mouth while he munched on some charred piece of pork belly.

“He and Baekhyun bet on it this afternoon while drinking,” Junmyeon added to the conversation while he plated the food that was done grilling. He found it amusing to watch Chanyeol’s ears turn red from the teasing.

“They will have kids when they want, right? When that happens we’ll be all ready to celebrate.” The woman added, grinning at Chanyeol and then left with the food that Junmyeon had just plated, Jongdae behind her trail with two more plates.

A warm feeling started bubbling in his chest, his eyes went back to search for you, sat at the table with the toddler in your lap and still holding onto you strong and giggly. You were so freaking cute, he always made sure to tell you that, but right now he wondered what it would be like if the child you were holding were his and yours. A mini version of yourselves. Adorable, that would be so adorable.

With a newfound purpose, Chanyeol wanted to walk right up to you and ask if you wanted to have a child together… maybe not in front of everybody, but he just needed to find a way to get you alone for a couple of minutes. If Jongdae and Baekhyun bet he would be the next to have child, then he’d make sure of it. Totally not because he got riled up by a nonexistent challenge…

You started to feel a bit constricted in your summer dress, clinging to your body like a second skin from all the sweating, despite having been shielded from the sun most of the afternoon, it was still pretty hot. The only time you got to feel something cool on your skin was when you and a few other girls decided to set up a kiddie pool for the toddler, except at some point the more mischievous and playful of the bunch decided to splash water on you with the garden hose, instead of filling the inflatable pool. Needless to mention you didn’t bring a change of clothes, but it dried off eventually.

Sat back at the table for dinner, you held the little princess in your arms while enjoying an improvised karaoke show by Baekhyun — now awake — and Jongdae. Apparently Minseok still had those wireless, bluetooth microphones Baekhyun gifted him and his fiancée last Christmas. He figured they would have fun singing around the house by themselves, but it turned out that they could use them now for more entertainment.

The toddler in your lap made grabbing hands towards her father, seeing as he was singing and swaying around with a shiny toy, which emits sounds in his hands. He came close and picked her up, placing her on his hip, then continued his show, occasionally handing the tip of the mic to his daughter’s lips.

“Baby?” You hummed in response to Chanyeol’s voice, but not really paying attention to him since you didn’t want to miss the show. You felt his hand sneak its way onto your knee, but his eyes were too busy looking at your chest. “You have barbecue sauce on your tiddies.”

“Barbecue sauce on my..? oh—!” The subtle yet sensual way he whispered those words in your ear, including the choice of words, made heat rise to your cheeks as you looked down at your chest. There was a big streak of a deep red stain on your sundress, looking quite fresh with some drops on your skin too, just a little above the collar. You remembered the Princess  waving around her favorite spoon earlier and at some point she managed to dip it into your own plate, you assumed. “I don’t have a change of clothes,” you whined softly by turning to look at your boyfriend with a pout.

He swiftly stole a kiss from your pouting lips and motioned with his head towards the house, speaking loud enough so you could hear him above the musical happening in the backyard. “Do you want to go inside and help me try to clean the stain?” You saw a glint in his eyes but didn’t think too much of it, at which you just nodded. Chanyeol, ever the loudest after Baekhyun, asked Minseok’s fiancée above the music which bathroom could you use to clean the stain and she replied to head for the one upstairs, since the sink downstairs was clogged.

Chanyeol held your hand and guided you inside and throughout the house with urgency, as if the stain needed to be taken care of immediately before it dried off. Although, you already knew it was unlikely going to come off with just some tap water. You furrowed your brow in suspicion but said nothing, until you found yourself on the upper floor of the house, bathroom door locked behind you.

“Alright, what’s gotten into—“ you didn’t get to finish the sentence as your words got cut off by Chanyeol’s lips pressing against yours sloppily, yet ardent. You felt his body guide you backwards until your bum hit the sturdy, cool surface of the sink.

“Let’s make a baby,” Chanyeol panted as your lips parted, your eyes widened in disbelief, pupils frantically searching his for any sign of him joking, but you knew his serious and determined expression too well. He was sincere about wanting a child.

“Right now?!” He looked up and to the side, thinking, then nodded vigorously. Sure, you talked about it before briefly, both of you would love to have a little bundle of joy someday, but was now the right timing for it? You would never know unless you try, right? “But we’re at our friend’s house…”

“And has that ever stopped us before?” Chanyeol insisted, peppering your face with wet kisses. You rolled your eyes and shrugged while thinking about how many times you sneaked around during a party at your friends’ places. Minseok would kill you if he found out you were desecrating his en-suite sink like this.

Chanyeol’s lips were back on yours as soon as you gave him the go, fingers digging into your hips while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Thankfully, the countertop was clean of any bathroom products, otherwise you would’ve knocked them over and made a mess as soon as your boyfriend slipped his warm hands behind your thighs, to then lift you up on the hard surface. You gladly spread your legs for him and let him press his clothed crotch to yours, feeling an already growing bulge rub against you in a desperate manner to gain some friction.

You knew you were playing with time; you needed to be quick and stay quiet, which would not be an easy task considering how riled up Chanyeol could get you. There was no time to waste, you reminded yourself again, as your mind became foggy with desire for the love of your life. His kisses were all over the place, dancing from your lips, to your jaw and then to that sensitive spot on your neck. Heavy panting against your ear, while he managed to slip the large palms of his hands under the skirt of your dress and hike it up your hips. You bit down on your tongue the moment you felt his digits press your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. It was so hard to focus on not moaning, while you could hear the commotion from the backyard still going on, yet the songs had changed, including who was singing.

“Oh, Park Chanyeol,” you moaned out of breath, lust clouding your vision as you pulled back to look at him from under your lashes. “You chose the worst timing to be this horny.”

“What do you mean?” He scoffed with a wide grin on his handsome features, meanwhile his hands left your body for a brief moment to undo the belt and zipper on his shorts, swiftly pushing them down with his boxers. “I’m always horny when you walk around looking so gorgeous all the time.”

You didn’t have enough time to marvel at how hard he was because his words made you giggle, unable to contain the excitement you were feeling. It had been a while since you two had sneaked around, you never knew if anyone was going to come looking for you. You too made quick work on getting rid of your panties with his help, then allowed him to drag you closer to the edge of the sink, his arms snaked under your spread thighs and he held onto your hips to keep you in place. You wrapped your legs behind his back, then spit on your fingers and spread the saliva on the tip of his cock, earning a deep groan from his pretty swollen lips, lastly guided him to your entrance until he was pushing inside slowly.

A sharp gasp escaped your throat, eyes closed and head thrown back, you held one arm securely around his wide shoulders and one securely on the sink, to keep yourself steady as you arched your back for him. He felt so warm inside of you, keeping still for a mere moment more before he started thrusting slowly, lips immediately latching onto yours to keep you quiet. Any faster than the torturously slow pace he had set, and you would’ve already been moaning out loud enough for someone to hear you.

He pressed his forehead to yours, glossy eyes looking at each other as he thrust into you. You could feel the muscles in his arms flex, restraining himself from picking up pace and just ramming into you. “Please, faster…” A soft whine reached his ears. How could he deny you such pleasure when you were asking so desperately.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He asked in the same whispering tone. You didn’t trust your words so you just nodded vigorously, a crease forming between your eyebrows. Chanyeol picked up pace and watched intently as you bit down on your lip to keep quiet, yet your lips would part of their own free will, allowing short whines to roll off your tongue.

One of his arms let go of your hip and he removed it from under your thigh, bringing his fingers to your mouth, until you gladly wrapped your lips around two fingers, licking and sucking to help you stay as silent as you possibly could in this current situation. As deafened as your ears felt from blood quickening its pace in your veins, you strained them to listen to your friends inside and outside the house. There were still people singing and laughing, some muffled voices, yet loud enough for you to hear them coming from downstairs.

It wasn’t the most romantic setting to make love to for a possible child, but the loving way Chanyeol was looking at you was enough to help the fire in the pit of your belly start erupting. He could feel it too, the clenching of your walls around his length. Such a blissful feeling that would send him over the edge soon. Your toes curled and your head lulled back, releasing Chanyeol’s fingers from your mouth as you reached down to rub yourself, heavily panting when a few swirls of your digits on your clit were enough to make you cum.

Chanyeol watched you reach your high, smiling at your blissful expression, a long guttural whine reaching his ears while he helped you ride your orgasm. The clenching of your walls around him was so painfully sweet that in a couple more sloppy thrusts, he came too inside of you. Sputtering, warm seed painted your walls, tickling them to clench again, which earned a low grunt from your boyfriend. He stood still inside of you, relaxing his body into your embrace with his forehead resting on your shoulder.

A loud knock on the bathroom door made both of your gasp in shock, panicked eyes facing the same direction. “Did the stain come off?” Minseok asked from behind the door. “I have some laundry stain remover if Y/N wants to try it.”

You quickly covered your mouth to prevent yourself from bursting out laughing, Chanyeol’s dick was pretty much still buried deep inside of you, but you could feel it getting softer. He took a deep breath to recompose himself and replied to his friend. “Ugh, no need, we’ll just wash it back home since the barbecue sauce isn’t coming off.”

“Yeah, that’s what laundry stain remover is for, you dumbass.” Minseok countered, and now you allowed yourself to laugh out loud.

“Thank you, Minseok, I’ll give it a try.” You told him, your voice was surprisingly steadier than you would’ve thought. He left the product by the door and left afterwards without any further questions. “Do you think he knows?” You murmured, unsure if he was really gone.

“One way to find out.” Chanyeol slipped out of you at last and your jaw dropped immediately with a soft gasp after he left you empty, still wishing you had gotten more, yet you could feel his seed seeping out of your entrance and coating your folds. “You look so beautiful.” Gently hands cupped your cheeks and pressed an almost chaste kiss to your lips. He breathed in your scent and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

You heart warmed up in your chest and it quicker up its pace once more. “And you’re going to be a wonderful father.”

tags: @cxsmicmyeon @vivaoh @byuns-coco @yeol-jae @his-mochi-cheeks @baekhyunvillage4​ @yeoltinybaek​ @saintloey​ @delightpcy​ @skyys-universe​ (let me know if you wish to be untagged! I added all the people who either replied or liked the original post about writing this smut, or just some people who I thought would appreciate reading it.)

[dollslayer]

The Stand-In

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Stood up by your date and stranded in one of the nicest restaurants in town, Bucky Barnes just can't let that stand.

Warnings: slight angst, smut, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !), if I missed anything let me know!

W/C: 3,807

A/N: I wrote this for @simsadventures 6k mixed adventure challenge (Congrats!) w/ a restaurant setting and the line "If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice". If you like it please reblog and comment and tell me what you think! Cheers!

p.s. - Come check out my other fics or find me on AO3 (same name)!

Main Masterlist

7 PM

Your best Jimmy Choos click gingerly as you walk up to the hostess stand at one of the most popular restaurants in Manhattan. He had made the reservation in your name, which you gave to the hostess. She takes a minute to consider you, cocking a brow as she silently clocks your ASOS cocktail dress. You looked chic enough that she could forgive you. Her moment wasn’t lost on you, this part of the Upper West Side was so stuffy so you put on your best.

Feeling slightly self-conscious about your attire you brushed the feeling off quickly. He would be here soon and he’d reassure you how beautiful you look. When you’d met for coffee he’d make you feel so sexy and confident with how sure of himself he was. So when he asked you to dinner at one of the most renowned places in the city and said he wanted to talk tonight you accepted immediately.

“Right this way” the hostess said and broke you out of your self-doubting stupor and guided you towards a some-what secluded table towards the back of the restaurant.

“Here are some menus for you two, if you’d like anything to drink while you wait, your waiter should be here soon”, she sent you an artificial smile and turned on her heel back to the stand.

You picked up a menu and it left you reeling at the prices. You had half a mind to text him and see if he wanted to go somewhere else. Based off of the way he dresses and how he had tipped the barista on your first outing you thought better of it. He’d said he wanted to treat you, so you’ll let him.

7:15 PM

You decided to wait to order anything to drink until he got here, too afraid of the price tag attached to any bottle of wine on the menu.

You took a sip of your water and checked your texts for the second time since sitting down. Still nothing, you didn’t want to text him just yet, you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. You knew he was a CFO and he’d be coming from the financial district when traffic was insane. You could forgive him. You take another sip of your water hoping it’ll wash all of your doubts away. Besides, it’s not like he’s late-late, he’s like, fashionably late, he’s working-man late.

7:30 PM

Okay, so he’s late-late, don’t panic. Sometimes things happen, he’s only human and this is only your second date.

Your waiter approaches the table again, eyebrows raised expectantly at you. The smug look on his face says he’s thinking what you’re too afraid to.

You order yourself a $25 martini. Your waiter promises to return and you finish off your water.

Time to craft the perfect text that says ‘Hey I’m here, where tf are you?’ without actually asking where the fuck he’s at. You tap away nervously on your phone.

‘Hey, I’ve got a table towards the back, closer to the end of the bar’ Perfect.

7:45 PM

You’re still sitting solo at the table, you feel the beginnings of humiliation creep into your features. You feel warm, your brows form a seemingly permanent crease of worry, and you are trying everything in your power to suppress the tears you felt building up.

You don’t make eye contact with your waiter when he stops by again, playing it off like you were sending a text. But you tell him you’ll be right back so that he doesn’t give up your table.

You walk quickly to the bathroom hoping no one will notice your trembling face. You feel just like a middle schooler that got dumped at the dance. You make it to a bathroom stool and dial your best friend, Wanda.

“Is everything okay? You’re supposed to be out with your mystery date aren’t you?” She had answered almost immediately.

You sniffled a bit and took a shaky inhale. “Y-yes, our reservation was for 7 and he put it in my name, I texted him once already but I don’t wanna seem too overbearing for a second date, y’know? But something feels off. I don’t know, maybe I’m being crazy.”

“You’re definitely not being crazy, it sounds fishy to me. If he doesn’t answer in five minutes I want you to leave and come straight over. I’ll have white Russians and Drag Race waiting for you” Wanda always knew just what to say, just how to make you feel. You were grateful for her.

You sighed into the receiver. “Thanks, babe, I’ll let you know what happens either way”. You hung up and grabbed some toilet paper to dab at the corners of your eyes. You knew you’d need an extra minute to compose yourself as you faced the truth.

He’s not coming, he’s not texting me back, he probably regretted setting the date which is why he put the reservation in my name, I won’t be hearing from him again. Just pay your tab, smile, and leave. You got this.

7:52 PM

Checking your appearance in the mirror one last time you let out a final sigh and push open the door back to the dining room. Your walk to your table begins to slow when you notice someone is sitting at your table. A rather tall, unfamiliar someone.

Did the waiter really give away the table? I’ve been gone all of 7 minutes! What do I even say to this stranger? Should I just grab my bag and go? Hopefully it’s still there.

Your final steps towards your seat are nervous and uneven. The man in the chair opposite yours must’ve heard you and he faces you. You’re struck with an unfamiliar but extremely handsome face. The look of surprise must be tangible because he laughs and slight wrinkles form at the edges of his eyes. Who the fuck is this guy? Well he hasn’t stolen my purse so there’s that.

“I-” You lean over to grab your purse when you’re cut off mid-apology.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how it is at work. Sit down, I ordered a bottle of wine for the table”. The man said.

You sat down slowly and felt so stiff and uncomfortable in the chair. Were you being pranked? Was this part of some very elaborate joke? Before you could ask any of those questions the man reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice” He said as his thumb grazed your knuckles. You were slightly stunned by his boldness. You complied, if only out of shock and hoped he’d explain himself a little better or let you go in time for you to make an exit.

He leaned in closer to you, to anyone else it would’ve looked like an intimate moment during any normal date. He looked you in the eyes while he kept hold of your hand and you realized how warm he was, how clear his eyes were. You took a deep breath through your nose and tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been at the bar for a while now, it seems like whichever idiot decided to stand you up made a grave mistake.” Your brows pinched together and he continued, “I was with a friend talking business but he left and you look like you needed to be saved from the incident so here I am. James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

You were unsure what to do with the information just given to you. Yes, it would’ve been embarrassing to pay your tab and leave alone after sitting there for almost an entire hour by yourself, but it was also embarrassing that this man had noticed and you certainly didn’t need anyone looking at you like some damsel in distress.

You caught yourself from scoffing completely and schooled your features. “I… appreciate that you’d do that for me but I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, especially not a date.” You tried to pull away when his hand gently squeezed yours.

“Please- I- I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m doing this out of pity. Whatever happened here is unfortunate, yes. But you’re also very beautiful and you’re here by yourself so why not ‘shoot my shot’ as I believe the kids are saying these days? Think of me like a stand-in for the other guy, but y’know, better” he replied playfully.

A very brief moment of contemplation was solidified by your lack of notifications on your phone. Why not? He’s good looking and he’s doing you a favor.

You had to at least afford a small chuckle at that. “So ‘Bucky’, huh? Well I don’t have any cool nicknames but you can call me by my first name.” You gave it to him and he repeated it back to you, a wry smile on his face.

8:05 PM

Still no texts from him but you did text Wanda to tell her everything worked out and there’d be details to come. She’d go into full on mama bear mode if you hadn’t updated her.

“So, Bucky, what do you do? Do you live here in Manhattan?” You asked before taking a sip of your wine (which you didn’t dare check the price of per bottle).

“Brooklyn, actually, but a lot of my business is here. Have you heard of Buchannan hospitality?” He asked.

Your brain snagged itself on that name. That sounds familiar? Where have I seen that? Oh wait! Didn’t you see him in the Forbes ‘30 under 30’ list last year?

You’d meant to answer him but unfortunately all that came out was a confused “Forbes?” at which he laughed a little bit and nodded.

“Yeah you might’ve seen me there. I own some hotels and lounges around Manhattan and Brooklyn. What do you do?” He had brushed off his accolades so quickly, wanting instead to know about you, this random girl that had been stood up.

Shit, your mid-level marketing job doesn’t stand up to this in the least. You took a sip of the wine and answered him, explaining you were second in command of your small company’s marketing department.

He seemed genuinely intrigued and you two ended up talking business and swapping office and university disaster stories until the main course arrived. You dug into your meal, savoring the taste and relishing in the unusual turn of events.

8:47 PM

The plates have been cleared away and the wine glasses refilled. Bucky was proving to be great company and as oddly as it started you were grateful to be sitting here with him. You’d nearly forgotten about your would-be date and decided to check your phone one last time.

You had 11 unread texts, 10 of them from Wanda wanting a play-by-play and one of them from the man that had stood you up. You opened it and sighed. ‘Can’t make it tonight, baby, promise to make it up to you soon’.

You scoffed to yourself. He’s not gonna say where he’s been? Or even say sorry? Douche.

You put your phone away and looked back up to Bucky who was eyeing you with playful curiosity.

“Lemme guess, that was the guy who was supposed to be seeing you’s sorry ass excuse followed by a flimsy apology” He said as he drank from his water glass.

“You’re 1 for 3. It was him but he didn’t apologize or try to explain himself. Should’ve known when he put the reservation under my name and not his that something might be up and when he wasn’t there on time.” You said more to yourself than to Bucky.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

“His name’s Brock Rumlow,” Bucky’s expression changed just slightly at this. “I think he works at some firm in the financial district. We only ever went out the once before this so I don’t really remember.” You explained. “What? What’s that look for? Please don’t tell me you know him”.

“Sorry to say that I do. Sorry to say I know his wife too” He said a little more quietly.

You felt humiliated all over again, the same feelings that you experienced in this very seat not an hour ago still had you by the gills it would seem.

Bucky reached for your hand again, running the pads of his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles in an attempt to calm you.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but you definitely ought to know that Rumlow is no one that deserves your time” Bucky said in earnest.

His words were nice but you’d need some time to get over this embarrassment on your own. In the meantime, you really were enjoying Bucky’s company so you decided to let it distract you.

Bucky flagged down a waiter, signaling him to bring the check. He took one glance at it and set his card inside. As you reached for the bill with your own card in hand he gave it to the waiter before you could even get a peek. He was so nonchalant when he looked at you.

“Don’t even think about it. So tell me, is the night over or are you game to spend a little more time on me?” He asked. This is the second time he’d been dominant but kind in one breath. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt but you didn’t dislike it.

If you went home you’d just be wallowing in your own self pity, or you’d go to Wanda’s and do it but if you go with Bucky you could delay that feeling for a bit longer. Out with a stranger it is.

“Where to?” You asked him.

9:59 PM

A private booth on the top floor of what he said was one of his favorite lounges turned out to be where to. You were relieved to find there was no dancing, as you had two left feet and half a bottle of wine by now. When you got to the booth you stuck with water, knowing you’d need to get yourself home.

Bucky had insisted on one glass of champagne ‘to chance encounters’ he’d said. You agreed but just one. You found yourself closer to him while you talked, your knees touched and his hand found its way to your leg. It didn’t dare to move higher up, just staying there like a comforting weight almost while you conversed.

You were rambling on about the time you and your cousin took your dad’s car for a joyride when you were 14. You were laughing the whole thing off when you realized he wasn’t laughing with you. You had worried for a moment that you’d bored him when you saw the soft yet intense look in his eye and tilted your head with curiosity.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that right?” He didn’t let you answer as he shifted closer. “I’d like to kiss you, is that alright with you?”

Oh. You were caught off guard by the abruptness of his question. Suddenly shy, all you could do was give a small nod and bite your lip in anticipation. His full lips were soft and almost as warm as his hands, which were holding you in an embrace. One of your hands had made their way to his hair and one on the outside of his lower thigh. You sighed as you kissed him back.

It was soft but insistent, things became a little more passionate as you swiped your tongue into his mouth and you both let out a small moan. You didn’t want to stop kissing Bucky, it just felt right.

He finally broke the kiss as one of his hands still rested at the nape of your neck. You were breathless, this man had kissed the daylights out of you. If he could do that with his tongue imagine what else he could do with it. You were both panting softly, sorting through what to make of things and where to go from here.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanna keep doing that, but this might not be the best place for it. You can say no if you want to, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’d love to take you home and treat you right” He said with unwavering eye contact.

Well how on Earth could I say no to that even if I wanted to? Wait doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?

“Let’s go back to mine, probably closer” You said. He nodded in agreement and sent a text to his driver to come pick you both up.

10:40 PM

You did indeed find out what else that tongue of his could do, you were finding out right now. He had made you cum once from his tongue alone already but he added to thick fingers and started pumping them into you, making a scissoring motion that hit you just right. You arched your back and pushed his face in deeper as you cried out, signaling your second orgasm.

Completely drunk in the afterglow of it, you wanted to keep this feeling forever. You wanted to show him what you could do too. You got up albeit with a little shakiness and hovered over him. You kissed his neck and slid your hand down to meet his groin. He was still in his briefs and you pulled the elastic band down with ease.

His cock sprang free and you had to hide the slight surprise you felt looking at the sheer size of him. You were always told you were good in bed so time to really put yourself to the test. You kissed your way down to his pelvis and your hand started working him. Staring back up at him you maintained eye contact while you kissed the dab of pre-cum that pooled at the head of his dick.

He shuddered but you kept staring at him, and in what you have to say was a pretty proud moment for you, you held his gaze while you took him slowly and in one go. You closed your eyes and moaned, feeling him in the back of your throat.

“Shit, oh my god. Are you gonna…?” He was lost for words so you decided to answer him by getting to work. You started slowly, up and down, letting yourself get used to his size and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and stay relaxed.

His moans were growing louder and his breathing heavier, you knew he was close and you were wondering if he was going to let you finish him. You got your answer when he pulled you off of him by the hair.

“As bad as I want you to finish what you started, I wanna feel you first.” He panted.

“So what’s stopping you?” You asked playfully. A small shriek escaped you as he flipped you under him. He lined himself up with your entrance and thrust in slowly. You could tell he was using a lot of restraint but that was quickly forgotten as you remembered how big he was. You suddenly appreciated the slow pace.

As he became fully sheathed inside of you you let out a loud moan that was quickly silenced by his lips on yours. A few more small thrusts and he was nearly fucking your cervix. You felt unbelievably full.

“Had no idea how talented that mouth was of yours, doll. Trying to make me cum without getting to fuck you though? Now that’s just cruel. I think you need to pay for that, don’t you?” He asked playfully as his thrusts became a little harder and forceful.

You could only nod and moan as he picked up his pace. Your hands clung to his shoulders for dear life and you whimpered and keened while he railed you into your mattress. Finally getting used to the feeling you reached down to play with your clit.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asked in between grunts.

Your eyes rounded and you shook your head.

“I wanna be the one to touch you. Make you cum. Only me.” He forced out as he replaced your fingers with his. He made tight, quick circles around your clit but didn’t let up on his pace as he fucked you closer and closer to a third orgasm.

“Your pussy’s making it fuckin’ impossible for me to hold out any longer, need you to cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my fuckin’ dick.” His words sent you right over the edge and you did as you were asked.

Not two seconds later he cried out and emptied himself inside of you, sending a few final pushes into you before taking himself out and dropping down on his side.

You leaned over and kissed him with what little breath you two had left. Your sweat mixed together but you didn’t mind.

His hands provided that comforting weight as he brought one to your shoulder and the other to your hip. He kissed the tip of your nose and watched you begin to drift off to sleep. He could probably use the rest himself and decided to close his eyes for a bit.

9:30 AM

You woke up in a half empty bed, but before you could let yourself be too disappointed you heard the sound of your shower turning off. You padded down to the bathroom and opened the door to find Bucky toweling off. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“Good mornin’, I would’ve asked you to join me but you looked so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you.” He explained. “If you’re not sick of me, do you maybe wanna grab some breakfast?”

You shook your head and reached past him to turn the shower back on.

“No way. I make the best pancakes and as a thank you for everything last night, I insist on making some for you.” You smiled up at him, hopeful he’d agree.

“Well I hope you know what you’re up against, I’m a very insatiable man.” He joked back.

You hit him with a washcloth and laughed. “Oh believe me I know. Gimme 15 and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. You let your mind wander back to last night as you washed off the sweat that lingered from the night before.

10:15 AM

You set down two plates stacked mile-high with pancakes and bacon. You held your coffee mug up to his and clinked against it.

“To chance encounters” You said with a smile.

[donutloverxo]

Riding

*not my gif*

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Part two to interruptions but can be read as a stand alone as well. My entry to our weekly challenge.

Summary - Steve's cock is too big. Will you be able to ride it?

Warnings - smut, light bondage, dom steve, sub reader, light anal stuff, mean daddy Steve

Pairing - Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count - 1.7k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You waddled the whole way back to your room, cursing at Steve the entire time. Here you thought you could go to his office, flutter your eyelashes and be cute so you could get what you wanted from him: attention. You should've known better. Steve was soft most of the time, he could never resist, especially not when you call him your daddy and give him your puppy eyes, make him pity you and love you.

But he had no room for disobedience, he let you know that plenty of times. He had never , how ever not made you cum. He did fulfil your wish, you’d give him that, he fucked you senseless, both your pussy and your mouth, but he didn’t let you cum. That’s just preposterous. That man loved eating you out and prided himself on making you delirious with pleasure. What’s more is that he filled you up with his seed and made you walk all the way over to your apartment.

You laid on your side of the bed waiting for Steve. You felt his spend seep out of you. You could use it to play with yourself. Maybe break out your dildo, it had been a while since you’d used it. Would pissing Steve off some more work in your favor tonight? Probably not.

You sat up as you heard the knob to your bedroom door being twisted. You gulped at the sight of your man. His long jean clad legs made their way to you. You perked up in excitement as you saw him taking his Henley and undershirt off.

It was time to suck up some more. “Can I suck you off again daddy? Please?” You gave him a shy smile hoping he'd show you some mercy.

You moaned at the sight of him removing his jeans, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor. “No” He grunted as he plopped down next to you “I’m pretty tired I’m going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow princess” He said but you could still make out the small smirk on his face.

“Oh then I should get comfortable too” You shrugged taking off your shorts and shirt, leaving you completely nude. Two can play at that game. You snuggled up to his side making sure to press up your breasts against him. “I can still feel you inside me daddy. It feels so warm and nice” you rubbed your thighs together “I’ll stain the sheets” You shook your head “That’s okay. You’ll help me change them tomorrow right?”

He hummed at that. You threw your leg over his hip smirking at the feel of his erection. “You wanna feel daddy? I think you’ll like it” you took his hand bringing it between your legs. You ran his fingers up and down your folds. Your slick mixed with his cum. You swore you heard him gulp beside you.

He growled climbing on top of you pining your hands above your head and pressing you into the mattress with his body. “Enough of your games” he released you hands digging into the drawers in your bedside table. “What are you doing?” You asked, desperately pushing your core up against his hard cock. Which was unfortunately covered by his black briefs. You stopped as soon as he gave you an angry look.

“You’re really testing my patience today” He warned pulling out the red silk ties he often liked to use on you. Whenever he felt you weren’t being good and didn’t deserve to touch him or just because he felt like it. You presented your wrists to him, to get in his good graces, so he could tie them up. You watched in awe as he wrapped the ties around your wrist tying it up in a complicated knot. He pressed your bound wrists above your head, into your pillow. “These stay here. Understood?”

You half heartedly nodded, disheartened at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to grab his ass or dig your nails into his back. He harshly slapped you on your thigh. “Yes! Yes daddy, I understand” You said quivering your lips, he only leaned back to take his briefs off. Dammit none of your tricks were working today. You whimpered at the sight of his hard cock, slapping against his abs. He pushed your thighs apart as he settled between your thighs.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock. With the two veins running up from his base, his angry pink mushroom head dripping with your favorite creamy goodies. “Daddy, can I ride you?” You asked before you could think otherwise. You cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth.

You had never ridden Steve’s glorious cock. You tried once but he was too big for you and because he likes to take care of you. He liked being in control anyway. Any other day, he might’ve considered it. But with how mad he was right now, you seriously doubt it.

He chuckled at you “Fine princess. Why don’t you give it a shot” You frowned at his patronising tone. You’ll show him. Or at least try to. He settled on his back beside you, one hand under his head and another lazily stroking his cock. You got up and straddled his thighs. You put your bound wrists in front of him. Hoping he’d get the message and take them off, for now.

“What?” he sighed, his strokes becoming faster.

“Stop that! It’s my job” You whined pushing his hand away from his cock. You whimpered again as he laughed at your neediness. He put both his hands under his head smirking up at you. “Uh...daddy will you take it off” You requested.

“No” He smacked your ass. You yelped as you fell forward but balanced yourself with your bound wrists on his abdomen. “I’m waiting” He said Impatiently, stretching out under you.

“Mm” You were nervous but you could do it. You moved a bit forward so you could line him up with your pussy. You were already lubed up and turned on so he slid in pretty easy. Your moan turned into a whimpered as you completely sank down on his cock, sitting on his pelvis. You closed your eyes, feeling so filled up, so content and complete. It was as if a part of you was missing and he was finally back inside you, where he belonged. You moved your hips in slow languid circles, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“Ah!” You yelped again as he spanked your ass, the smack echoing in the room and leaving a delicious burn, You fell forward, putting your weight on your wrists which sat on his abdomen.

“Do it properly” He commanded. His tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You said you wanted to ride me. Think you can’t take it?” He quirked a brow at you.

You took a deep breathe raising your hips, whimpering as he slid out of you. Slowly and unsurely you sank back down on his cock, his tip hitting your cervix as you threw your head back. You looked at his lust blown eyes, his contorted face, pleading silently to help you out a bit. He pushed his hips up hitting your special spot as you screamed in pleasure which almost etched on pain.

“Come on baby you can do it” he cooed and you cried at his praise.

Soon you were bouncing up and down on him as he kept spuring you on “Such a good doll” He said one of his hands coming up to fondle your breasts, his thumb grazing your stiff nipple before he pinched it before his thumb and his finger. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on me princess” He wondered out loud.

You increased your pace, chasing your end, his cock hitting your spot should render you all worn out and useless, but right now you wanted to please him more than anything and show him how strong and capable you were. “I can –“ you couldn’t finish your thought distracted by his palm squeezing your ass, his thumb pressing into your pluckered hole and his other hand squeezing and playing with your titts.

“I think I like this” he smiled “I get to touch you anyway I like” you gasped as he pulled his thumb out of your bum and spanked you again “You can what sweetheart?” He asked looking into your hooded eyes, his hand which was playing with your titts coming up to caress your cheek.

“Nothing” You shook your head as you tried your best to keep sliding him in and out of you, suddenly feeling so exposed and vulnerable in front of him. He could see all of you, struggling so hard.

He said your name sternly holding onto your face and asking you again “You can what? Answer your daddy”

“I can feel you. So uh –“ you tried your best to contain your moan but it slipped out “so deep inside me” you said feeling yourself almost tipping over the edge. He groaned at your words, firmly holding onto your hips “Can I come daddy? Please?”

“Yeah you can come princess” He planted his legs hard on the mattress and he held onto the back of your neck. He drive up into you, hitting your spot relentlessly until he had you cumming and milking his cock. You couldn’t hold yourself up you collapsed on his chest as he kept fucking into you until he came, spilling his seed inside you, making you feel even more full.

You went into the cloudy state, the one where you always went after being fucked into oblivion, you called it your heaven. You whined as he pulled out of you. You had hoped he’d be inside you longer, so he could keep his cock and your insides warm. He put you back on your back as his fingers worked to undo the silk ties that held your wrists together. “Wh – what are you doing?” You stammered as you felt his hot tongue swipe a strip against your raw and overworked pussy.

“I’m cleaning you up” He sucked onto your clit drawing a groan out of you “So you don’t stain the sheets. Lay back princess” He pressed his palm on your stomach as he cleaned you up and made you cum some more to make up for his meanness.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or leave me an ask!

[watermelonlipstick]

Three, Two, One

Working through my list of requests, I was really grateful to be able to fulfill this one from anon, who asked: 

I have ptsd, and really loud, sudden noises and sudden touches can make me have a panic attack, so can you do something where there’s a really loud noise or someone touches the reader and sends her into a panic attack and Dean helps her?

It felt a little too obvious to go with a gunshot here. I’m also imagining this set in early seasons both for aesthetic and for Bobby’s house. Hopefully it’s something like what you were hoping for!

Title: Three, Two, One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1069

Summary: Dean grounds the reader after a panic attack brought on by a loud noise. 

Warnings: oblique description of panic attack, description of loud noise

           The way he was right in front of you at virtually the same second the car backfired almost made it worse at first, to be honest, filling your field of vision as he’d flown out of the front seat of the car where it sat in Bobby’s salvage yard.

           “Shit, I’m so sorry, I thought I’d fixed it—here, sit down,” he said, guiding you over to a folding chair on the edge of the garage. You let him ease you to the metal, feeling the heat and pounding starting to build in your head already. Dean crouched in front of you. “Water? Let me get you some water.”

           He was back in a flash with a plastic bottle, sweating so much in the humidity that the paper label on it hung loose and ugly. You took it from him with a shaky hand once he’d cracked the cap off, and took a quick sip more to feel the coldness in your mouth than out of any real thirst. Dean reached out to pat your thigh and pulled back at the last second like he’d been burned, remembering that sometimes touching you made it worse. “Can I—um?”

           You nodded, grateful for his asking and worried if you spoke you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. His palm over your knee was just this side of too hot, beach sand baked in the summer sun, and you tried hard to bring yourself back to reality, focus on that point of heat seeping through your jeans.

           “1 to 10?” he asked, gentle but firm as he fell into his script.

           “7,” you answered honestly.

           Dean nodded, just once, almost to himself, flicker of a quirk at one side of his mouth gone so fast you might’ve missed it. If you weren’t clawing to keep yourself above water you might’ve been able to appreciate his pride in heading off the worst of it by his rapid action.

           “I’m right here, you can close your eyes. Not going anywhere,” he continued in that poundcake voice; soft, sturdy, and sweet. Through trial and error you’d found that skipping to the three—three things you could hear—of a 5-4-3-2-1 grounding strategy was better for you; less risk of a surprise touch to add to the panic at its worst and increased contrast from whatever loud noise that had triggered it slowing the reins of your mind faster, letting you grab ahold and take control again. If you closed your eyes you could focus even harder on those small sounds, but so often it was impossible to beat back the anxiety enough to let you do it—this was one of the things Dean had been working on with you, ability to give the burden of watching out to him when you were buried in the tunneling foxhole of your mind. You tried your best to take a deep breath and let your eyelids slide shut.

           Three things you could hear.

           “Deep Purple.” Either the battery on the car was still good or he had that old boombox somewhere in the garage.

           “Underrated as always. That’s good; another?” he encouraged.

           “Windchime on the back porch.” Just a light twinkling; just barely below breeze to make the weather perfect.

           “Damn, you can hear that? I need to stop cranking the stereo so loud. Just one more.” Even knowing he was intentionally putting in the casual commentary, it helped to latch onto the light, easy conversation.

           “Cicadas.”

           “Annoying as hell, right? Okay, now two.”

           Two things you could smell.

           “Motor oil, you.”

           You could hear the smile in his voice even with your eyes closed. “And what do I smell like?”

           “Sweat, Old Spice, Coors Light.” And that little underlying note you could never place; the closest you’d ever gotten being a kind of sweet leather—leaving a cupcake in a hot car, maybe—but you were already at five things, technically. Feeling a touch of the panic start to lift, you were able to give him a weak facsimile of your normal cheeky smile, keeping your eyes closed as he chuckled gently.

           “Yeah, you love it,” he teased. “One?”

           One thing you could taste.

           “I don’t know, chapstick, maybe?”

           “I’ll call an audible and say you can swap for something you can feel,” he offered when you couldn’t think of anything.

           “Your hand on my knee.”

           He waited a beat for you to try to regulate your breathing before saying anything else. “1 to 10?”

           “3.” You opened your eyes to see him where you knew he’d still be, unmoved from his crouch on the weedy gravel in front of you. He still looked a touch concerned but primarily his face was open and hopeful as he searched your expression for more clues on how you were doing. “I’m good, sorry,” you sighed on the tail end of another deep breath, relishing the relative loosening of your lungs from a few minutes before.

           A smirk spread across Dean’s face, whites of his teeth impossible contrast to the light tan he’d gotten in the last couple weeks and spray of new sun-dyed freckles across his face, especially with the smudges of grease he had from working all day. “Nothing to be sorry about, kid. Should’ve double checked before I had you come check it out, that’s on me.” There was a shade of guilt there, and you wrapped your fingers around his hand where it stayed on your knee, giving him a little squeeze.

           Clearly that wasn’t enough to assuage Dean’s guilt, but what ever was? He held your gaze for a second before easing up to standing, grabbing a wrench out of his back pocket and tossing it in the general direction of a toolbox before wiping his hands sloppily on the back pockets of his jeans and rubbing the close-cut hair at the back of his neck. “Can I make you a sandwich? I’m starved.”

           It was another apology and fighting Dean about it wouldn’t help; the sandwich a continuation of the rapid response to your panic attack in that it was a manifestation of the best way Dean knew how to show affection/gratitude/apology, that wrap-you-in-a-blanket, take-you-under-my-wing care always so much easier for him than putting into words what he meant.

           You let him have it. “Yeah, a sandwich sounds good.”

           The way he smiled in response as he held out a hand to pull you up and sling an arm around your shoulders would’ve been enough to make you eat 20 sandwiches.

           One thing you could taste.  

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[noforkingclue]

Hiii! I’m a big fan of your writing, especially that Bucky/Nun fic 😏 Could I request a fic with a pregnant reader but she doesn’t know if Bucky or Zemo is the father of the baby? I don’t mind if it’s dark or regular, it’s up to yourself!

Thank you anon! I'm so glad that you liked that fic! I have a sequel in my WIP folder!

Warnings: pregnancy, slight breeding kink

Title: Runaway

MCU tag list: @geocookie21, @greeneyedblondie44

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

This couldn’t be happening. To you of all people, this shouldn’t have happened. You paced around your room as you debated what you should do. You couldn’t go to any of them, you’d know that Zemo and Bucky would kill each other if they found out. You collapsed on your bed and put your pillow over your face as you let out a scream into it. A soft knock at your door made you look up sharply.

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

You relaxed when Sharon opened your door and gave you a small smile. You threw the pillow to the side as she closed the door and sat next to you. There was a moment of silence before she said,

“You left pretty quickly after breakfast.”

“Wasn’t feeling well.”

“You haven’t been feeling well for the past couple of days.”

“Think I might’ve caught something.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

There was a moment of silence before Sharon continued,

“I hate to resort to stereotypes but is there something you’re not telling us?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever you tell me will remain between us.”

You gave her an unsure look and said,

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You let out a sigh and ran a hand over your face.

“I’m in trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“Because I’m not.”

“Who’s the father?”

When you hesitated Sharon just raised an eyebrow.

“I know it’s most likely one of those three,” she nodded towards the door, “And because you don’t want to tell me I’m guessing it’s not Sam. So who is it?”

You groaned and rolled over onto your front. You heard Sharon’s breath hitch and you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t know.” She stated

“We were drunk,” you said, “Sam was asleep and it was only meant to be Bucky and I. Zemo was just watching and I don’t know… in that moment I just found him really fucking hot. I invited him to join, just as a joke! I never thought that Bucky would be the type of person who enjoyed watching me get fucked by another man. He was kind of possessive all night.”

“So when are you going to tell them.”

You gave Sharon another look before hiding your face again.

“Y/n, you can’t not tell them. They’re bound to notice sooner or later.”

“I was kind of hoping could do me a favour.”

“Oh?”

“Get me out of here without any of them noticing.”

“They’re going to notice you gone.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want to sneak out in the middle of the night and bump into Bucky or Zemo. Please Sharon, you’re the only one who can help me.”

“That’s a very big favour…”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“Alright,” Sharon said slowly, “Alright I’ll help.”

“Thanks you Sharon. You’re a good friend.”

“I know.”

*

Eighteen months. You had been free for eighteenth blissful months. Sharon had been more than willing to help you with just a few small favours in return. You had no issue with working for her. Money was money and you had a small child to look after. You couldn’t afford to be picky about work and who cared if a few billionaires lost a couple of million. It’s not like they’d miss it any way. You stifled a yawn as you walked into your daughter’s room ready to give her a night time feed. You froze when you saw who was holding your daughter. You had thought you had escaped and started a new life. You weren’t expecting anyone to find you so quickly.

“So beautiful,” said Bucky, “I didn’t realise you were pregnant when you left. I should’ve done though.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked shakily

“I missed you,” he said, “I didn’t know how much I did until I woke up and you were gone. If I hadn’t been helping Sam and dealing with John fucking Walker I would’ve gone and looked for you right away. You couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave.”

“I didn’t want to bring a child into a dangerous situation.”

“Looking out for my child,” Bucky pressed a kiss against your daughter’s forehead, “I never realised that I wanted a child until I saw her. She’s beautiful.”

You bit your lip and shifted. Your lack of answer caused Bucky to slowly raise his head. His blue gaze pierced you and his grip tightened slightly on your daughter.

“She is mine.” He said

“I-“

“I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.”

“Well-“

“I thought I told you,” he walked slowly towards you, “You are mine. You had no right to take-“

Realisation dawned on Bucky’s face and before you could run he had marched up towards up. He shifted your daughter to his other arm while his metal hand curled around your neck. He pushed you up against the wall and spat,

“Him.”

“Bucky-“

“Don’t. Is she his?”

You tried to pry his fingers away but that just caused him to increase his grip.

“Well?” he demanded, “Is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know!”

“Because we were drunk. You both,” your eyes flicked to your daughter who had somehow fallen asleep, “Came inside.”

Bucky blinked slowly. He studied your face intently, trying to work out whether you were lying or not. Eventually he said,

“I never should’ve let him touch you. I should’ve ripped of his arm as soon as he laid a hand on you but I let him touch you because you wanted him. I did that for you and look how you repaid me.”

“Bucky-“

“She doesn’t look like him does she,” Bucky looked back at your daughter and tilted his head, “She has your eyes and my nose but then again,” his gaze flicked back to yours, “She could grow up to look like him. Weren’t you ever curious to know you claimed you?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I never wanted to have anything to do with either of you again.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, obviously displeased with your answer.

“I don’t want to know either,” he said, “To know that that bastard would have some claim over you. To have a reason to be in your life again. I’d much rather raise his potential daughter and have him realise when it’s too late. I’d be the one she calls Dad. I’ll be the best fucking father to her, the one that Zemo could never be, especially since he’s in prison.”

He leant down and brushed his lips against yours.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we put her back to bed and then we,” his hand moved to the small of your back and pulled you against him, “Can make a child of our own. One that’ll certainly be mine.”

[rhenuvee]

PDA (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons for Fred that he is big on PDA with his s/o, so here is a fic about it. Lightly based on the song PDA by Scott Helman- WOW who would’ve known. 

Warnings: If it wasn’t obvious already- a l o t o f M A K I N G O U T, and George being done with your BS x5

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

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

It was your seventh year at Hogwarts and you had mixed feelings about it. Last year was overwhelming with the events of the Triwizard Tournament, you hoped that this year would be better (aha sike bich). The thing you did look forward to however, was seeing Fred.

The two of you actually just started dating after he asked you to the Yule ball. In fact, he was a little overwhelming himself... in a good way though. He was never shy to show affection, even when others were around which was embarrassing sometimes.

He would hold you close by wrapping his long arm around your shoulder while walking together in the hallways, cuddling in the common room, give you hugs that would squeeze the life out of you, and good lord- the snogging especially made you red-faced. The hot intimacy between the both of you did not leave room for keeping your hands off each other.

Or as George corrected, your faces.

You walked down the hall with the destination of the entrance of the great hall fixated in your mind, surprisingly not noticing the two redheads sticking out of the crowd of students, until-

“WHERE IS MY GORGEOUS GIRLFRIEND?! I CAN’T SEEM TO FIND HER, (Y/N) DARLING WHERE ARE YOU?!” yelled your boyfriend being obnoxiously loud and attracting weird looks and giggles from other students. Your eyes immediately found him and started marching towards his and his twin’s direction with both your hands covering the sides of your face, like a horse with blinders. As if that made the situation any better.

“Fred..!” you whisper scolded him. You already predicted the mischievous smirk that appeared on his face. 

“Yes love, what’s the problem?” he said rather neutrally trying to sound naive. You deadpanned. 

“You were just a tad too quiet there.” you said sarcastically.

“Really, should I say it louder-”

“No Fred-”

“Well what did you expect, for him to shut up?” asked George scoffing and earning a hit to his arm by his twin. You giggled. 

“Not like you could do any better,” retorted Fred. “Go in already.” George shook his head in annoyance as he was shooed away into the great hall. You were about to head in as well when Fred’s hand stopped you and turned you around back to face him.

“Not going to leave me hanging without a kiss are you?” he asked with his hand on your waist. You subconsciously walked closer to him, it felt warm in his embrace. You pecked him on the lips trying to be cheeky, but when you were about to pull back quickly, he was faster and brought you back to his lips with his hand lightly on your cheek.

You gave into the kiss, you really had missed him. And you could tell he did too by the way he was kissing you. He deepened the kiss, his lips tasted like chocolate. But you could feel that almost everyone was in the great hall already, and that you were going to end up with bruised lips again and tardiness. 

You were running out of breath- but that’s just how Fred liked it. Kissing you until you’re completely breathless and had to lean against him for support. 

“F-Fred...” you said in between breaths trying your hardest to resist the urge to kiss him more. He pulled away slowly with a huge grin on his face, still holding you close to him. He chuckled at how much you looked like you needed an inhaler. 

“Fine, to be continued then.” he said grabbing your hand and walked with you to the Gryffindor table to sit. 

The table looked full from the view from the entrance, but once Fred spotted where his twin was, there was an empty space saved for the two of you. It wasn’t long before you and your boyfriend were immersed in the conversation and laughter with your friends around you. It also wasn’t long before George lost his appetite after seeing you and Fred getting all mushy. 

Everyone paused their talking and eating when Dumbledore came up to announce the new changes in staff. The lady in pink who you now know was Dolores Umbridge. She seemed... interesting...

“-I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.” she said with her hands clasped.

“That’s likely.” the twins said rather loud enough for it for others to hear it. You hit them both lightly at the same time while shaking your head, as if scolding them. They giggled at your reaction.

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

Your high hopes that this year wouldn’t be chaotic really did you a bamboozle. You tried your best to remain positive, and that maybe Umbridge would turn out to be a good teacher but she really did prove you wrong.

On the particular day that you got the lines etched into your own skin, you felt a mixture of anger and sadness. Before, you could feel your grades getting lower, your assignments and classroom performance getting sloppier and just overall not like you at all. The blood quill was just the cherry on top.

The thoughts worsened when you thought about how Fred would react. You knew he would be furious, seeing as he was already frustrated when many others close to him had to write lines with the blood quill.

“Just tell him (y/n), you can’t keep something like this from him.” said Hermione putting a hand on your arm. You shook your head and covered the hand with the scars by pulling your sleeve up. Harry and Ron were also there to comfort you while the common room was bustling with the people still up.

Not much longer, Fred, George and Lee walked in from the portrait hole. You tensed up and suddenly felt stiff. Hermione gave you a reassuring look to try and ease your nerves. The trio then went to do their own things so they wouldn’t be pressuring you.

“Hey doll, why the long face?” he said plopping right next to you and tilting your chin with his index finger to face him. You smiled attempting to mask your real feelings.

“It’s nothing Freddie, just tired.” you said pecking his cheek. A frown appeared on his face as his hand moved to run through the bunches of hair that came loose.

“I can tell when you’re lying love, please tell me what’s wrong.” he pleaded. How could you say no to those eyes?

“I-It’s just that I’m not doing too well on my schoolwork, and I don’t feel like I’ll get my dream job and I don’t know maybe I’m just not working hard or doing enough-“

“Darling.” he said sternly interrupting your rambling. You could feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that you think that you’re not enough or any crap like that. Umbridge’s stupid rules and methods aren’t worth a single tear from your pretty face. So please love, don’t be so hard on yourself.” he said sweetly, wiping the tears away with his thumb. You wiped your face with your sleeve, but that’s when Fred saw it. He felt better knowing that he cheered you up somehow but it went back to concern as he saw the lines on your hand as your sleeve stretched up.

“What did she do to you.” he said not drifting his gaze away from your eyes. Uh oh. You gulped and pulled your hand away quickly, not wanting him to observe your hand any longer. He grabbed your arm back, pulled up the sleeve, then stood up like he was about to leave. You felt nauseous, your boyfriend was nothing but wrath.

“I swear I will-“

“Fred, no!”

“And why not?!” he shot back quickly. People’s attention were now at the two of you.

“Because there’s no way to fix it Fred! It will only make things worse, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” you cried, grabbing his hand trying to prevent him from doing something he would regret. You winced at the memory of the day he had to write lines.

Fred hated to admit but you were right. There wasn’t anything he could do. He especially did not want to make you upset. He messed up his hair with his hands stiff in frustration and sighed.

“You’re right darling, I’m sorry I got mad. It’s just I can’t stand Toadface hurting you...” he trailed off, sitting back down with you.

“If it makes you feel better, you look hot when you’re mad.” you said in his ear getting closer to him. He was surprised at your words, but it didn’t take long for him to get cocky again.

“You really think so?” he asked smirking and running his hand through his hair again. He always knew how to get you riled up.

You could tell that was not the end of it. His mouth opened and you knew he was about to yell it out. You covered his mouth with your hand and his announcement came muffled. Both of you laughed before Fred removed your hand.

“What was that for darling? I wasn’t gonna say anything.” he said.

“Yeah right, knowing how much of a clown you are I really don’t think so.” you said.

“You wound me darling, really.” he said putting his hand to his chest. He then remembered the scars on your hand and frowned at the sight of them. He rubbed his thumb on them lightly as if to soothe them.

“Hey, why don’t we just cuddle here tonight.” you said trying to distract him from your scars. A grin appeared on his face.

“That might’ve been the best idea you’ve had all day love, cmon then.” he said opening his arms for you to dive into.

———————————

You were really sad the day Fred and George flew out of Hogwarts. Yes, you were over the moon to see Umbridge’s face running away, and you were especially proud of the twins. But you couldn’t help but for your heart to feel empty without Fred.

They’ve told you first when planning the prank. Fred was particularly upset at himself that he had to leave you, but you reassured him that you wanted him to follow his dream, and that you wanted so bad to see the shop. The long lasting kiss you had before he left was his motivation to make the shop a success.

Finally, the day came when you were able to see the shop of the first time. Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron agreed to go with you.

“(Y/n), slow down!” Shouted Ginny from the distance. But you couldn’t- you couldn’t wait to see Fred much longer. You ran the whole way to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not caring that you were running out of breath quickly.

You swung open the door and took in the view of the shop- it was amazing.

“(Y/n)!” a familiar voice called out from the top of the stairs. Your eyes were immediately fixed on the bright figure- your Fred.

You both began to run and dodge through the crowd to find each other. You missed him, and he missed you.

“Freddie!” you called out, able to see his fiery red hair moving quickly. Like in those muggle movies, you both ran towards each other and Fred twirled you around before kissing you. It was cheesy, but you didn’t care anymore, you were together again.

You almost crashed into each other when you embraced and had a passionate kiss that was long overdue. It was sloppy, and his hands were everywhere. But that was just how he liked it- kissing you until you were breathless and leaning on him for support. Suddenly running was not such a good idea.

“Oooookay ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the minor inconvenience, if everyone could just take a precaution and swerve away from the lovebirds, you will be fine.” announced George to the people.

Both you and Fred pulled away with lips very bruised. Customers made weird faces, and parents steered their kids out of your way. I mean, you were kissing in the middle of the shop.

“Sod off, mate.” said Fred, his voice slightly quieter since he was out of breath. George only shrugged.

“I will, don’t want to throw up in the middle of the store do I?” questioned George. You giggled and Fred rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and (y/n), it’s really good to see you,” he said hugging you. “We missed you a lot, not sure if you could tell.”

Your eyebrows raised at Fred who looked the other direction and whistled pretending not to know again. And with that, George winked and turned on his heel to leave.

“Well, for once he wasn’t wrong.” admitted Fred. Looking at the way your lips were puffed in the middle of the shop, he definitely wasn’t.

“Now where’s my grand opening gift?” he asked playfully. You realized that you hadn’t prepared anything. You felt embarrassed that you didn’t get your boyfriend a present for his shop that was clearly a success.

“I’m kidding love, just a kiss will do.” he said bringing his large hand to rub the side of your neck. Getting a closer look at him, you could see slight differences from the last time you saw him. His hair was messier, and the red really stood out from the colours of the shop. You could see his freckles and dimples much clearer now.

Fred was about to lean in to kiss you again when George purposely bumped shoulders with him with a flimsy piece of cardboard in his hands.

“Oi, George what the hell?” asked Fred. George said nothing but turned and flipped the piece of cardboard to reveal the words ‘NO PDA’ on it. Oh, it was a sign specifically for you two.

“No need to be such a party pooper, Georgie. This is Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not Wealsey’s Wizard Gheezers.” said Fred earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Your constant lip-locking is making the customers disgusted, and honestly I am too.” he grumbled.

“Maybe he’s feeling lonely...” you whispered to your boyfriend.

“I’m not lonely!” George protested. Oops, he heard you.

“(Y/n) does make a good point, maybe we should contact Angie-“ teased Fred. You smiled at the thought. You remembered back then when George was swooning over her, but never acted upon it.

“Don’t you dare.” said George with this eyebrows crossed but a light pink evident on his cheeks.

You felt giddy as you watched your boyfriend and his twin bickering. You could only imagine how happy you’d be hanging around the shop-

However, you’d have to find a way out of that ‘NO PDA’ sign.

———————————————————

Link to pt2: Part 2

[ickle-ronniekins]

embrasse moi

request: from nonnie! “please can you do a super competitive fred and reader story and idk do with that what u will I trust your judgement”

pairing: fred x french!slytherin!reader

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i am ~feelin~ this request rn. i know quidditch wasn’t a thing during the triwizard tournament when faux moody was teaching just humor me. didn’t realize how much i need a french speaking fred until i wrote this 😩 also i definitely do not speak french and i've used google translate so i apologize in advance if any phrases are wrong LOL. i'll put the what the translations are supposed to be underneath the paragraphs they appear in and @ the bottom with an asterisk *

warning(s): a curse word (oops sry); ~steam~

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbystrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook | message me to be added, loves!

“Slytherin wins!”

Fred watched as you threw your beater’s bat into the air while you did backflips on your broomstick in front of all of your teammates. He huffed dramatically; he normally didn’t fancy losing a match to Slytherin, but you showing off was just rubbing salt into the wound.

“Don’t think on it, mate,” George told his twin. He looked absolutely bloody exhausted. Ever since Slytherin had replaced their beaters who had graduated the year before, their team was unstoppable. You sort of stunned the entire school when you arrived at tryouts and crushed it, making the students question why in the bloody hell you hadn’t ever tried out for Quidditch in the first place.

As the Gryffindor team walked sluggishly back toward the changing rooms, the vile Slytherin team captain did not hold back from overly-complimenting his team, therefore firing shots in the Gryffindors’ direction.

“Never seen a more brilliant beater before,”

Fred rolled his eyes noticeably. As your teammates patted you on the back, Fred just scoffed loudly, hoping to grab your attention. When he saw that he had, he turned to George and Harry and said, “She wasn’t that brilliant.” George just shut his eyes and shook his head, sick of Fred’s constant complaining.

“Aw -- vous vous sentez mal, Fred? Ne sois pas si mauvais perdant.”

          ↳ “Are you feeling bad, Fred? Don’t be such a sore loser.”

You earned yourself another eye roll for that one.

“Speak bloody English, would you woman?” he said angrily.

You pursed your lips dramatically in his direction. If he hadn’t been so pissed off, he would’ve noticed how his heart rate had seemed to increase at the fluttering of your eyelashes as you winked at him. Except he’d always been too focused trying to one-up you to notice such things. “Better luck next time, Weasley.”

It wasn’t just Quidditch. It was everything. Charms, incantations, exploding snap games, hexes -- even things Fred absolutely loathed doing, like stupid readings in Divination. It had all started back in your first year, when you were able to kick off the ground first in your flying lesson; you were a Muggleborn and had no idea how to fly. This annoyed Fred to no end, because he’d been flying since he could walk! And ever since, you two fell into this intense competitive streak, not giving into one another. George sure was over it though. Had been for a long time.

He gently tugged on Fred’s robes to lead him back toward the Gryffindor changing rooms, but it was a lost cause. Fred was already ripping off his uniforms due to pure anguish. George sucked in a deep breath before leaving his brother on the pitch. “Bloody hell, here we go again.”

-- -

The next day, Fred was struggling to get through classes due to his lack of sleep from the night prior, and it didn’t help when he was partnered up with you in Defense Against the Dark Arts in Moody’s attempt to separate him and George. Begrudgingly, his feet carried him over toward your desk where you stood, arms crossed and smirk bright. George on the other hand looked particularly jovial to be very far away from the two of you.

“Professor?”

Moody growled. “Not now, Weasley. Time to practice nonverbal hexes with your partner. No complaints.”

Fred huffed a bit and turned toward you. You cocked your head to the side, “What’s the matter? Scared you won’t be able to out hex me?” You narrowed your eyes at him and deepened your grin.

Fred scoffed. “I can out hex you in my sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, “Pauvre, gentil garçon. Tellement naïf.”

          ↳ “Poor, sweet boy. So naive.”

He didn’t even bloody care what you’d said, he was just so ready for this lesson to be over. He positioned himself a few feet away from you and stood in a rather dramatic, annoyed stance, waiting for you to just do your worst, already.

Your eyes seemed to darken with concentration. Fred was hoping that the slight smirk he painted on his face would be enough to distract you, but he was unfortunately proven wrong. Suddenly his knees were reversed and he began to falter on his own two feet. You and a few others surrounding you both, including his own twin, fell into laughter.

���Walk much, Weasley?”

His eyes turned to slits as he reversed the hex back, ignoring the crimson colour flooding his cheeks and the laughs still bouncing around the room. You still wiggled your eyebrows at him as he took his own position, pointing his wand toward you. He really needed to bloody concentrate, but the sing-song sound of your voice as you rattled off phrases in your native tongue sent him spiraling. He focused his thoughts solely on the one word: Titillando. He might’ve been distracted, but still managed to hex you.

Your laughter grew due to the tickling that took you over. You fell to your knees and giggled like a little school girl, grabbing at your arms and legs and back as the tickling sensation only heightened. Fred waltzed over to you, confidence exuding him, and lifted his eyebrows at you. He grinned evilly. “Got you.”

Somehow he found himself centimeters from you. He slowly lifted his wand and reversed the hex, and you were now completely out of breath, staring up at him with beady eyes. He took your hand in a tight grip and pulled you to your feet. He could feel your breath on his neck. “Sanglant brillant,” you managed to say in a breathless whisper.

          ↳ “Bloody brilliant.”

He certainly didn’t need you to translate that one. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and breathed, “Glad you think so.”

Shit. You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud, and you hadn’t managed to realize how close he was to you. You pushed on his chest and walked out of his way, fixing your tie and cardigan before sighing deeply to rid yourself of your flustered feelings. You cleared your throat and said, “Again.”

Cheekiness overtook his expression. “Looking for me to out jinx you again, are we?”

“Just do it, Fred.”

“Why can’t you just finally admit that I’m better than you? Put this whole thing to rest --?”

You cut him off. “Tu n'es pas! You stupid boy --” you wandered toward the entrance of the classroom; you needed some air, he was driving you up a wall. You stepped into the empty corridor. “Don’t let this foolishness go to your head. I’ve always been better, I always will be better.”

          ↳ “You are not!”

Fred laughed. “You’re out of your mind, what on earth --”

“It’s obvious!” you cried, throwing your arms up into the air. You inched forward toward him, and you were able to see the veins in his neck protruding just a bit; you were clearly getting to him. The tips of his ears were bright underneath that red hair of his. “Just admit it to me, Weasley. You can’t handle a girl being better at you -- better at hexes, better at lessons, better at Quidditch. Better at everything.” You stood on the tips of your toes in an attempt copy his stance. “And it’s driving you bloody mad, isn’t it?”

Fred sucked in a very deep breath and clenched his jaw tightly to suppress his anger.

Still, you prodded. “Isn’t it?”

Fred just wanted you to shut up already. So in a moment of fury, he growled and immediately pushed you against the wall and pressed his lips to yours in an attempt to silence you. He felt your shock against him as he parted your lips with his tongue, willing himself to not be distracted by the faint taste of your cherry lip balm. When he was sure you’d be silent, he slowly pulled away from you and let the shock roam through him too.

There was fire in your eyes. You blinked slowly a few times and eyed him up and down, as if trying to make sense of your own thoughts. Fred was sure you were about to deck him for being a right git until you lifted your hand and yanked on his tie and whispered, “Encore. Embrasse moi encore.”

          ↳ “Again. Kiss me again.”

He didn’t need a translator for that, either. He watched you lick your lips before he pressed himself into you again. You both met one another’s hunger with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand, but Fred reckoned this was probably the underlying reason for all of the competition between you two. How could he have possibly missed it all these years?

The idea of heading back inside the classroom for the lesson completely slipped from his mind when you grabbed two fistfuls of his hair in your hands and pressed your chest hard into his. By the muffled sigh you emitted against his mouth, he was sure he was driving you mad, and he was hellbent on getting you to be the first one to break with a moan.

But a low, unamused grunt ripped you apart from one another -- Fred was shocked that something had managed to break the ferocity between you both. You bit down on your bottom lip as you both turned to be face to face with a very disturbed and annoyed looking Mad-Eye, and George cracking up right behind him. You quickly swatted Fred’s hand away from your exposed hipbones, but he was pretty sure Moody had noticed anyway.

“Back inside,” your professor growled simply to both of you. In a lower voice, Mad-Eye continued, “I’ve got to be barking mad -- I did not sign up for this..” George winked at his brother and mouthed something that slightly resembled a Knew it, I bloody knew it, before making his way back into the classroom.

Fred turned back toward you and glanced down at your red and swollen lips. “Ready for me to out hex you again?” he asked with a glint of cheekiness in his voice.

“In your dreams, Fred,” you replied, narrowing your eyes and swatting him across the chest in your usual irritated tone. He was about to drag you back into the classroom but you yanked on his tie once more. The sultriness in your voice that dripped from your mouth made him not want to focus on the lesson at all; he’d rather think about many, many other things instead. “First -- embrasse moi, you prat.”

          ↳ “Kiss me,”

“Mmm,” he replied hungrily, licking his own lips in anticipation of getting you alone later. But he could get you riled once more, right? In more ways than one? He absolutely adored the completely startled and impressed look in your eye when he replied to you in French, “Bien sûr mon amour.”

          ↳ “Of course, my love.”

* vous vous sentez mal, Fred? Ne sois pas si mauvais perdant. - Are you feeling bad, Fred? Don’t be such a sore loser.

* Pauvre, gentil garçon. Tellement naïf - Poor, sweet boy. So naive.

* Sanglant brillant. - Bloody brilliant.

* Tu n'es pas! - You are not!

* Encore. Embrasse moi encore. - Again. Kiss me again.

* Bien sûr mon amour. - Of course, my love.

[oddshelbyout]

Forever // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: You get a letter that declares your husband, John dead during the war. Just as you were slowly getting used to the pain, a miracle brings him home.

Warnings: Mention of death (non graphic), Angst

Word Count: 1668

Author’s Notes:

I needed to write some angst and this is how it ended up. I’m really proud of this one even though I don’t think it’s as angsty as I intended to make it. I hope you enjoy it <3

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

You were lying on John’s childhood bed. It had been your bed ever since he got shipped off to France. The house you lived together in felt empty and the double bed you slept together was lonely.

With all the boys being on the battlefield, expect Finn. The Shelby women were staying together, taking care of business and each other.

It had been two years since they left when you got the letter. The letter was delivered to the house you and John lived. You didn’t realise it existed until a few weeks later. You wished you never realised.

The letter declared John dead. He was presumed killed in action. He had originally gone missing and afterwards was called dead.

You hadn’t opened the letter until you were with Polly. You could feel that it was something bad. If it wasn’t it wouldn’t be delivered in the first place.

Your eyes started bawling out the moment you read the first few words. Polly had his arms around you, much calmer than you. She didn't shed a single tear. Ada was there too but unlike Polly, she was crying. Not as much as you did of course.

One might’ve assumed they would cry more. They were family by blood. You cried most because you had less time with him and that time wasn’t enough for you.

When you finally let go of the letter, his eyes appeared behind your closed ones. You couldn't open them, you didn’t want to see a world where he wasn’t in. It got easier after a while but then, you started hearing his voice. How he called you “Love” and “Darling” and occasionally “Baby”.

Thankfully you had Ada and Polly and even Finn. The youngest Shelby was your best distraction. All of them had the same pain though with different ways to show it. Polly got more aggressive after learning about John’s death and Ada got more passive. Finn just stopped playing with his toy guns.

You got used to the fact that your husband wasn’t going to return from the war. It hurt but you got used to it. You knew there was a possibility of that happening but never thought it would actually happen.

You were lucky that you were already staying with the other remaining Shelbys in Small Heath. John’s childhood bed felt more like your own bed after learning about his death.

You got so used to the Shelby home that you even forgot you had a house you lived with John in. Maybe you just chose to forget. The bed you were sleeping was more comfortable anyway.

You sat on the bed. You didn’t feel like doing anything productive so you just sat and read your book. You had become somewhat numb. The book in your hands would’ve made you cry if it was a few months ago.

You barely understood anything you read so Finn suddenly opening the door was a gift. “You have to come down Y/N.” he said with his not yet thickened voice.

You sighed, “Can’t it wait until I finish this chapter at least?” Finn shook his head. “Polly said now.” you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t think of anything that could be this urgent.

“And you always do as Polly told right?” you mocked Finn. He seemed upset by it and looked into your eyes, putting pressure on you. You closed your book and before letting Finn say anything, you left the room.

You slowly walked down the stairs, Finn behind you. When you got down, “Pol?” you called out for her. You looked around and just as you were going back upstairs you heard footsteps.

You turned your back, expecting Polly, you were going to ask her what was so urgent. Instead you saw John. His face reflected his tiredness. His eyes were looking dead. He had a cane in his hand, you examined him from head to toe. You thought you were hallucinating.

You gasped. You blinked a few times. Your eyes teared up. “John.” you said quietly. Your whole body went numb. Finn looked at John and then you. Polly appeared behind John, her face was wet from tears.

You couldn’t stand still. You collapsed on the floor. It was dark. You heard John calling your name, felt Polly’s hard slaps on your cheeks. You couldn’t open your eyes.

“Finn get her water.” Polly ordered, you heard the boy’s footsteps. A harder slap from Polly came afterwards. You opened your eyes. John’s eyes blocked your sight. “You.” was all you could say.

Finn came back with a glass of water. You tried to sit up, Polly offered you her hand. John was silent. He was on his knees beside you, he was in pain. He took support from his cane and stood up.

“Finn, go upstairs.” Polly told the boy, he nodded and rushed upstairs. “He’s supposed to be dead!” you shouted at Polly then looked at your husband. You took the water from Polly’s hand and took a sip.

“Let’s get you up Baby.” you heard him say. You thought you’d never hear his voice again, you thought you’d never be called baby and feel the way you did when he said it. It should’ve felt like a blessing, a miracle but it felt more like a curse.

You stood up by yourself without any help. “Why don’t we sit down.” John said, looking towards the door of the living room. You nodded silently. Every breath you took felt like the first.

You sat down on the couch, John sat down beside you. “I’ll leave you two alone.” she said and left, probably going upstairs to Finn.

“Y/N, why won’t you look at me?” he asked. He noticed he avoided his gaze. You felt like none of it was real. “You were supposed to be dead.” you mumbled, barely able to speak.

Your voice cracked, John seemed to share the pain you were in. You couldn’t understand why you weren’t happy about this. John understood, you were in shock. You were just getting used to his loss and now you knew it was all a lie.

You cried, you didn’t know what to see, neither John did. You sobbed, John pulled you to himself. His arms felt safer than ever. He gave you a kiss on the forehead. Your tears wetted his shirt.

“Why aren’t you dead!” you were angry that you had to go through that grief even though it wasn’t true. You pushed yourself out of his arms.

John held your face between his two hands. “Look at me Love, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” he assured you.

“But…” you tried to speak but he interrupted. “I got captured.” he said, it was obviously hard for him to talk about it. He felt like he owed you the explanation, he had to tell you about it no matter how hard it was.

“I was tortured, you got the letter when I was in the enemy's hands.” he swallowed, his eyes teared up. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.” he let go of your face and held your hand instead.

“I have to.” he whispered, you nodded telling him to continue. “I was found only a few weeks ago, I needed treatment so they transported me back here.” he took a deep breath. “John…” you said before biting your lip.

“Y/N just listen.” John said softly, “Okay” you mouthed. You squeezed his hands in support. “They told me the war is over for me, at least this one.” he said, “I’m home and I’m not going back.” his voice was still.

“I wish I could be happy right now but I’m just in more pain.” you confessed. “I know but I’m here and as long as we have each other it’s okay.” you hugged him. You hugged him tighter than you ever did and ever will.

John started crying too. His tears fell on your hair and yours fell on his shoulders. He was here, you were hugging him, you were talking to him, he called you “Baby” again. You expected to wake up from this dream but it was real.

“No more grieving.” he whispered here. “No more going to bed alone.” you said. “No more being apart, we’ll be together forever.” his words just made you cry more.

It was the first time you saw John cry and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time. The way he stood and spoke told you he was a different man now but it didn’t matter. You were in his arms and he was in yours.

“Has Ada seen you?” you asked while still holding him close. “Not yet.” he said softly, “She’s gonna be so happy to see you.” you replied back.

“Definitely happier than Finn was.” he said, it made you chuckle and put a smile on both of your faces. “I love you so much.” you cried and all he could say was “Me too.”.

Neither of you spoke for a while. There was nothing left to say, maybe there was a lot to talk about but it wasn’t the time. Your safe silence in each other’s arms was cut with Ada entering the room.

“Fucking hell!” she screamed, “Have I gone mad?” she shouted. You and John laughed unintentionally at her reaction. Polly came running, “I guess it’s time to have a family meeting.” she said while Ada stood there her jaw dropped.

Ada was calmer than you were and so was Polly. Neither of you expected it but it was a miracle anyway. It was your miracle. You were finally at ease while you still had that little but of grief left.

The happiness didn’t appear until you were getting ready for bed. You weren’t going to sleep alone. John wasn’t sleeping on the uncomfortable hospital bed or in the trench. It was the most peaceful night you had in ages.

[morbid-mary]

Upside Down

Chapter 2

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took so long. I originally stopped writing because I needed to take a break and then I just forgot about my stories for a while if that makes sense. Anyhow, this is chapter 2 of Upside Down! I hope you enjoy it there’s so much more to come...

Italics: Caspian’s thoughts

Warnings: None

Tags: @realm-of-kearstenia​ @animallover81​ @rebel-soldat​

~~🖤~~

Caspian stares at the little girl with wide eyes. Lucy. He blinks at her, dumbfounded. “Lucy?... No that can’t be…she’s…” he trails off. They’ve grown up. He stares into the little girl’s eyes. They hold a familiarity he begins to recognize. They’re as blue as the eastern sea, much like her mother’s. They hold the same brightness and warmth Lucy always seemed to radiate. Can it be?

“Annabelle?” a voice calls.

The little girl turns, “Coming!”

Her name is Annabelle.

“It’s time for you to say hi!” Annabelle grabs Caspian’s large hand and pulls him up the platform.

“Annabelle wait” She stops, letting go of his hand.

“Why, you scared?” She asks, a playfulness in her tone.

Caspian squats down again. “No” he states, but he can’t help but smile at her.

“Then let’s go! The train will be here soon!”

“Annabelle!”

Caspian stands up quickly. That voice… A blonde man about Caspian’s height pushes past the family in front of them.

“Annabelle, there you are!” He squats down by Annabelle, gripping her gently. “Don’t you ever run away like that again, do you understand me? Your mother is worried sick!” The man scolds.

Caspian stares at the man, recognizing him immediately. “Peter” Caspian breathes out.

Peter’s head shoots up and the frown on his bearded face quickly disappears at the sight of the Narnian King.

“Look who I found!” Annabelle says, cheerily.

Peter slowly stands, pulling Anabelle close to him. He’s aged. His face is bearded, his eyes held a wisdom and strength that was not there the last time they had met, but one thing that hasn’t changed is the air about him that gave off an entitled authority.

“Go to your mother” Peter says, not breaking eye contact with Caspian.

“But-”

“Obey” Peter interrupts firmly.

Annabelle looks at Caspian one more time before disappearing up the platform.

“What did you do? How- how are you here? In England?” Peter asks, baffled by his fellow king’s presence.

“Hello to you too, Peter” Caspian says, a smile spreading across his face. He hasn’t changed much at all.

Peter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Right.” He straightens up and extends his arm to Caspian. Caspian smiles, gladly taking it. Peter pulls him into a quick hug, clasping him on the back, warmly greeting his friend. “It’s good to see you,” Peter says before letting him go.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“I’m not entirely sure. One moment I’m in my chambers and the next I’m…here.” Peter nods.

“Probably an overlap of our worlds…” Peter trails off, eyeing his friend for a moment.

“What?” Caspian asks.

“I thought you’d be older” Peter admits.

“If you’d like I can come back in a few years” Caspian says.

Peter chuckles, remembering that little retort he threw at Caspian when they’d first met.

“Speaking of older-”

“Shut up” Peter interrupts.

Caspian smiles at his friend.

“Come on” Peter says, throwing an arm around Caspian’s shoulders. “It’s time you meet the family.”

Peter guides Caspian up the platform. They spot little Annabelle standing amongst a group of people.

“I’m telling the truth!” she exclaims, stamping her foot.

“Annabelle stop it! Your overactive imagination is getting the better of you!” the pregnant woman says.

She sounds like Susan.

Peter and Caspian approach the group.

“Look who Annabelle found wandering around the station” Peter announces, grasping the family’s attention.

Caspian’s eyes land on the pregnant woman sitting on the bench who’s head snaps in their direction along with everyone else’s. It is Susan.

“It can’t be” the woman next to Susan stands.

It’s Lucy. Her hair is longer than he last remembered, and she looks to be a little older than himself. Lucy is older than me. His eyes then land on the man off to the side who couldn’t be anyone other than Edmund. Jaw slack, pointing at Caspian, in utter shock. He looks almost exactly the same as he did on their last journey.

“You’ve got to be joking” Edmund says.

“It’s been so long!” Lucy says, rushing over to Caspian and pulling him into a hug.

Caspian wraps his arms around the youngest Pevensie tightly. “So it seems” he says.

“It’s good to see you” Lucy says as she pulls away.

Caspian smiles at her warmly. Caspian then reaches over pulling Edmund in for a hug as well.

“I never thought we’d see you again” Edmund admitted.

“Neither did I” Caspian says, patting Edmund’s back.

When Edmund lets go of his old friend, Susan was standing behind him. He moves out of the way so she can greet Caspian as well. She smiles at the young King.

“Susan” Caspian says, his eyes traveling down to her swollen belly.

“Hello Caspian” she says, surpressing a laugh at his shocked expression.

“You’re…” He trails off.

“Yes, I am” Susan says, unable to contain her laugh.

After they all greeted Caspian, each Pevensie introduced him to their families. Peter’s wife, Savannah, a gorgeous red head with warm brown eyes. His two daughters, Lily and Moira. Lily is eight years old and the spitting image of Peter with her blonde hair and her father’s blue eyes. Moira is six years old and has red hair like her mother and is very shy. Edmund’s wife, Constance, a sweet brunette with green eyes and a lovely Irish accent. And his son, Benjamin, who is four and could be Edmunds twin, but with green eyes like his mother. Susan’s husband, Robert Moore, a strong tall man with dark hair and pale blue eyes with a soft smile to balance it out. She also has a son, William, who is five years old and looks much like his mother. Lucy’s husband Michael Pierce, who is not present at the moment and Annabelle, who Caspian has already met.

“So, Caspian is an actual real…person?” Constance asks.

“He’s right there” Lily says, pointing at him.

“Lily!” Savannah scolds.

Caspian smiles, passing a wink to the little girl.

Lily turns to Annabelle and they giggle.

Caspian grins, watching them for a moment.

“I thought those stories of Narnia were just…stories” Robert chimes in.

“Did you think we were lying to you?” Edmund asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ugh, here they go” Lily says, shaking her head to Annabelle who rolls her eyes in turn.

“No- well…” Savannah trails off. “This is a little hard to grasp, I apologize” she adds.

The other spouses nod in agreement with Savannah.

Peter presses a kiss to his wife’s forehead, whispering something to her.

Savannah visibly relaxes at his words.

“What’s hard to grasp?” Annabelle asks.

“They weren’t lying, and you have walking proof right there” Lily adds.

Moira gasps, “You can’t call him ‘walking proof’ he’s a king!” She says, worried that what her sister had said might’ve been offensive.

“But he is!” Lily defends.

“He’s a king?” William asks.

“Yes, don’t you remember?” Annabelle asks.

“Not really” he says.

Moira and Lily giggle.

“We can discuss this further on the train” Peter says, closing the subject.

“He’s coming with us?” Annabelle asks.

“Well yes, we can’t very well leave him here” Lucy says, running a hand over her daughter’s hair.

“Yay!” she exclaims excitedly.

“What?” Caspian says.

“You’re coming with us!” Annabelle says, walking back over to him.

“And where are we going?” he asks her, glancing over at Peter and then Lucy.

“Our annual beach trip we take. It’s sort of like a family reunion.” Edmund clarifies.

“I see” Caspian says.

“Will you come?” Annabelle asks. She wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him with the most pleading look in her eyes. “Pleeasse!” she begs, squeezing his hips.

Caspian stares into the little girl’s eyes. They’re so bright and affectionate and the pleading look she’s giving him now could crumble any resolve he would ever try to muster. She purses her lips saying ‘please’ in the sweetest way, again. Caspian glances over at Lucy who’s smiling as she watches the interaction. 

Caspian lifts his head, his heart hammering inside his chest. He’s dreamed of this moment, being reunited with the Pevensie’s for two whole years. But the Pevensie’s he loves dearly have changed so much. They’re all grown up. More than he has. They have lives of their own, spouses, and even children. It’s all so different and he’s missed everything. 

Caspian sighs, look around the train station. He’s here for a reason. He just knows it. He never thought he’d be given the opportunity to join them in their world. It’s always been the four of them to find their way to Narnia. Now it’s his turn. 

Caspian swallows the lump forming in his throat and summons the courage to look down at little Annabelle. He takes in her pleading expression and softly smiles. “I will come.”