#< prev hell yeah. let’s go

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious���”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[lowkeyremi]

Hey pookie, love your work and I hope you’re having a great day so far. I would like to request Haikyuu men x reader but instead of them giving reader silent treatment, we’re giving them the silent treatment. I would also prefer if it’s the same guys too. Hope this isn’t too hard and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it. Sorry if in any way it sounded rude, love your style and all of your posts ❤️

SILENT TREATMENT PT 2 !

pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate) note: hiii lovely!!! u don’t come off as rude at all so don’t even worry!! if anything I’m glad to write this. It’s just what I needed after coming back from my break. summary: men can be so irritating sometimes! what better way to deal with it than ignore them? (don’t do this irl, communicate is key!!!) content: slight angst to fluff, silliness, established relationships (marriage for a few + plus the same babies from the prev fic), cursing, reader is sassy, not proofread!!!! wc: 3.3k

SUNA:

“Are you seriously ignoring me right now, babe?” Rintaro stared into your soul waiting for an answer. He knows the answer already but he’ll do anything for you to talk to him.

Instead of giving him answer, you just scoff and make your way to the bedroom, where you will most definitely lock him out.

“Come on, I’ve already apologized. What else can I do?” The brunette is right on your tail. Sometimes you forget that his height allows him to cover more space than you. He’s practically right behind you.

“You can leave me the hell alone, Suna.” Last name treatment? Yep. He’s 100% fucked up. You know in his eyes it’s not a big deal but you see it as a big deal.

Your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up from work today but he had forgotten, and one top of that he went out and got drinks with his friends. Not to mention you waited a whole hour thinking maybe he was running late or something. Once you called him and realized he forgot, an uber was called and you went home.

Just as you’re about to reach for the doorknob of your bedroom, Rintaro grabbed your wrist forcing you to stop.

“Let. Go.” You say through closed teeth.

“Please listen to me,” He’s… pleading? Your boyfriend never pleads for anything- well that’s an exaggeration, he rarely pleads for things.

“Start talking.”

“As I said earlier, I am very sorry, baby. I felt like I was forgetting something today, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Next time you need me to come get you, send me a text an hour before you get off work, okay?” His voice is tender and soft. Nothing like his usually snarky and playful attitude.

There’s a petty urge to not forgive him just yet, but at the same time, he’s being super sincere and honest. All you do is sigh and take your hand out of his grasp.

“If you’re really sorry, buy me dinner.” His mouth ticks up into a small smirk.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks.

TSUKISHIMA:

Kei tries to go in for a kiss, again, with no luck. He’s looking at you with the most lovesick look, because you always fall for it.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He says AGAIN, which is a lie. He was laughing at you and of course you’re mostly immune to Kei’s quips and remarks, but you were feeling a little butt hurt after he laughed at you.

“You WERE laughing at me, Kei.” His long, pale arm reaches for the baseball cap on your head, but before he can take it off you grab his hand and squeeze it as hard as you can.

“Ow- shit, that hurts.” He says trying to pry his hand from your grip.

“Yeah well that’s how I felt when you laughed.” You let go of his hand and turn away from him. You’re both sitting on the couch but you’re facing away from him.

“I’ve already told you, I wasn’t laughing at you, it just caught me by surprise.” A little “hmph” leaves your lips and you cross your arms.

Before Kei went to go get the groceries you told him you were going to do something to your hair, a slight adjustment. He’d only been half listening at the time, so when he walked in to see your hair, he started to laugh on instinct.

Of course you felt insecure and went to put on a baseball cap to cover it up.

“Can I see it again?” He asks very softly, his hand ghosts over your shoulder and you don’t lean away from his touch this time.

“Fine, but I swear if you fucking laugh, you’ll have to asking Yamaguchi if you can stay over at his place cuz I’ll kick you out.” His angelic little chuckle blesses your ears.

“Kick me out of the place we both pay for?” He asks, quite assumed at your statement.

“Yes.” Before he can get another word in you slowly take the cap off for him to see.

His hand creeps toward your head, he hesitates right when he’s about to touch your hair.

“Can I?” He’s so polite despite how mean he can be.

In an effort to remain salty you say, “I don’t care.”

His fingers are so gentle when touching your hair that you feel little tingles in your body.

“It’s really cute, babe. Let me just-” He moves a baby hair that’s sticking out, then his eyes meet yours. They’re so beautiful, but so are yours.

“I’m sorry for laughing.”

USHIJIMA:

It had been an accident therefore he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him. He thought that maybe you just wanted some time to yourself.

You waited hours for him to realize you were upset with him, but it never came. If anything you thought he was ignoring you. (That wasn’t true at all though)

Nao notices his parents haven’t talked to each other most of the day, so he comes to you. It’s almost his bedtime and you see that Wakatoshi had given him a bath and he’s got his pajamas on.

Little Nao climbs up your bed and crawls up to you, “Hi baby, what’s up?”

“You not talkin’ to Daddy?” Nao is very perceptive for a three year old.

“Um.. no.” He tilts his head at your response.

“Why?” How can you explain it in kid terms??

"Mommy's not happy with Daddy right now." He nods in understanding but proceeds to ask another question.

“Oh. But why?” Now that you’re thinking about it, it’s kind of childish.

This morning when the two of you woke up, Wakatoshi had asked if you’d seen his wedding ring. Then, proceeded to explain that he had taken it off when he went to work, because he left the chain he usually wears it on at home. So, he assumed it was somewhere in his bag. Of course he found it, but it just ticked you off that he had taken it off with little regard for it.

“A little disagreement is all.” Your son nods again and gives you a hug. He doesn’t like when you guys get into the occasional argument.

They don’t happen often, because you two are able to work stuff out. When they do happen you both agreed that they shouldn’t be in front of your son. Not only because it’s not right, but because Wakatoshi had grown up in a household where his parents constantly argued with little regard for how he felt on the matter. He would never subject Nao to that.

“It’s time for bed, Nao.” Wakatoshi says. How long has he been standing there?

“Okay, Daddy.” Nao kisses your cheek before scurrying off of your bed. Since he’s not good with noise control yet, you over here him asking Wakatoshi to make up with you, because he doesn’t like when you guys are unhappy with each other.

After twenty minutes your husband returns. “So you were upset with me?” It’s so like him to get straight to it.

“Yeah, I was kind of ignoring you until you came to me, but I forgot you can’t really pick up on those queues.” He nods, almost abnormal like. He rids himself of his shirt and turns the lights down.

After he’s done doing that, he joins you in the bed.

Right as you’re about to explain yourself he speaks up, “it’s because I had forgotten my ring, right?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

“Yes, and I see now that it was childish of me. You’re human, we all slip up.”

“No, no, I understand. I think I would be a little upset if you’d taken your ring off and tossed it somewhere.” He says, olive colored eyes looking into yours.

“You tossed it?” He shakes his head at the misunderstanding.

“I did not. I was just using it as an example.” Relief washes through you and you scoot closer to hug your husband. His skin feels so warm.

“Okay, good.”

“Are we alright now?” He asks hugging you back.

“Yes.”

OSAMU:

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be staying at Atsumu’s place instead of your shared home with his brother, but yet here you are.

Speak of the devil Atsumu knocks on the guest room door and you tell him to come in.

“What’s up?” You’re pretty sure he’s going to ask you to talk to his brother. He’s been calling and texting you for the past three days. He’s probably been calling Atsumu too.

“Can ya just talk it out with him? ‘Samu’s been blowin’ up my phone, ‘n I know he’s probably been calling ya, too.” He looks tired of the both of you and you feel bad putting him in the middle of this mess, but there’s no way you’ll be talking to your husband anytime soon.

“No.” Atsumu sighs almost knowing you would say that.

“He’s worried about ya, ‘n I’m sure he’s very sorry too.”

Three days ago Osamu had a very busy and stressful day at the shop, it was just awful. When he arrived home it was evident that his day was shitty, so you tried to cheer him up.

That only made matters worse, as he proceeded to yell at you to “leave him the fuck alone.” and “your voice is making my head hurt.” Even though you knew he was saying that in the heat of the moment and he didn’t mean it, it still hurt to hear.

You yelled back at him telling him that you were doing what you could to make him feel better and that he was an asshole. When he didn’t say anything in return you rushed to the bedroom to pack a few days worth of clothes and get the hell out of there.

Was that a little bit extra? Yes. You could have probably just slept in your own guest room or on the couch, and then talk it out in the morning, but you were so pissed that your logic went straight out the door.

“Well… er… I-” You could see the guilt in Atsumu’s eyes when a string of loud knocks were heard.

“You called him over?” Atsumu looked away as not to meet your eyes.

“I caved when he said he was worried about ya ‘n ya didn’t even tell him where ya were goin’” Atsumu faked a cough before excusing himself to get the door.

Within seconds you see your husband standing at the bedroom door and your heart breaks when you see him. It had only been three days (2 nights) and he looked exhausted and miserable.

Before you could get a word in he dashes over to you and embraces you in a tight hug.

“Baby ‘m so so sorry.” He chants over and over.

“Please don’t do that again, ya scared the livin’ shit outta me.” Osamu was always better at hiding his accent than Atsumu, but when he was really stressed it would come out.

“I didn’t mean for you to worry like that, ‘Samu. I didn’t really think when I left.” He sits himself down on the bed not letting you go, he places you on his lap and you’re basically straddling him.

You squeeze him back just as tight. “I was so mad that you talked to me like that.”

“‘n I’ll never do it again. Even on my bad days ya don’t deserve that.”

You take in a big whiff of his cologne and you audibly relax in his arms.

“You better not because I might slap you next time.”

“Feel free to.” He says.

Atsumu ruins the moment with the most obnoxious fake gag, “Are ya straddl- actually I don’t fuckin’ care. Do that at yer own damn place!!”

SAKUSA:

When you woke up to your alarm, you realized Kiyoomi already left for work. Which that in and of itself wasn’t a problem. It was the fact that he left without dropping your daughter off for school.

Not to mention that you had a very important meeting with a client today. You got ready for work thinking about how you were doing well on time… until you noticed your daughter’s lunchbox sitting on the counter with nothing in it.

In breakneck pace, you ran to your daughter’s room to see that she was peacefully sleeping. “Oh baby, wake up we’ve got to go.” She starts to gain consciousness, her eyes squinting open when you turn on the light.

“Huh? I thought Daddy was taking me today.” Your little girl rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“He was but I guess he already left,” you search frantically for something simple but presentable for your daughter to wear.

“Oh, you’ve got your fancy business outfit on… is there something important today?” You’re so grateful to have a daughter who can read between the lines.

“Yes, there is but Mommy’s gonna be late.” She frowns up at that.

“Sorry.”

“Honey it’s not your fault, your father was the one who was supposed to take you.” She nods.

The two of you work together to get out of the house quickly so you won’t be that late.

Your daughter will only be running a few minutes late for school… as for you, your meeting started four minutes after you started driving to her to school, and the school is a twenty minute drive.

You’re gonna fucking kill your husband for this.

When you get to your daughter’s school she hops out immediately and says her goodbyes.

“Bye sweet girl! Have a great day at school!!” Of course you won’t let your anger get the best of you… for right now.

Luckily, your client was kind enough to excuse you being almost thirty minutes late, but it was still embarrassing nonetheless.

Some of your coworkers teased you a little bit afterwards.

“Slept in?” One who’s particularly close to you (he calls you his work wife and Kiyoomi hates it) asks nudging your arm.

“Nope, my husband forgot to take our daughter to school this morning.” A loud sigh leaves your lips and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Yikes, bet he’s gonna be in the doghouse for awhile.” He snorts.

“Hell yeah he will be. I’m just wondering, how in the world did he forget?? He’s better at remembering things between the two of us.” And that’s the truth. You’re curious as to what his excuse will be.

“Well he’s human too, ‘course he’s bound to screw up at sometime.” Even though he’s right, you let your pettiness take over and decide that you won’t give Kiyoomi the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m home,” you hear your husband shout from the genkan. Your daughter is at the table doing homework and you’re sitting with her browsing through your phone.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He walks in to the kitchen greeting his daughter with a kiss on her forehead.

“Hi, Daddy.” She says with a small smile.

“Hey baby.” As he leans in to kiss your forehead too, you dodge it.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “You okay?” Kiyoomi smells like his body wash and shampoo. Usually you’d be happy to have your nostrils filled with the smell of his post practice shower, but right now it just upsets you.

You got up from the table and walked away without answering his question. He obviously attempted to follow you to the bedroom, only for the door to be shut in his face.

“Hey what’s up with you?” You can hear the irritation in his voice through the door. He has no right to be irritated though.

Instead of answering him you make yourself comfortable on the bed.

After ten minutes of him trying to ask you what was wrong and literally begging you started to feel bad enough and open the door.

“What’s wrong is that you forgot to take our daughter to school this morning, causing me to be late to a very important meeting with a client.” His eyes widen in horror at your statement.

“Shit, I’ve been so focused on how I was going to go about this upcoming fan event for the past couple of days, that I completely forgot. You have every right to be mad.” Right, your husband still isn’t very social, and he still hates receiving gifts from his fans. Of course he’d been trying to figure out how to make an appearance, but not interact with anyone.

“Damn right, luckily my client was nice but it was still embarrassing.” He frowns.

“I apologize, and I’ll make sure to do better next time.” You roll your eyes and pull him in for that kiss.

“Yeah yeah, I guess you forget things too.”

IWAIZUMI:

Iwa hasn’t realized it, but while helping out this girl at the gym (he’s an athletic trainer and he couldn’t sit there and watch that girl screw up pull ups any longer) he was so oblivious to her obvious flirting.

She would bend over in those tight leggings, or hold onto his bicep for support. And yes, it was dumb for you to be upset with him, because one, you’re his wife and he only has eyes for you, and two, he didn’t even realize she was flirting with him.

“How are your sets coming along, baby?” He came over to ask you while the girl was getting water. Yeah, you know how to do all of these work outs, but you like having your man right there to spot you and correct your posture in the slightest way.

You pretend you don’t hear him, because you’re listening to music in your headphones. To sell the deal, you even mouth the lyrics of the song.

He raises a brow in concern. As soon as he goes to say something, the woman returns, “Iwazumi-san? I’m ready to continue!”

“I’ll be back.” He says, running back to that woman. You roll your eyes as you come down for a squat with a 25 lb kettlebell in your hands.

By the time you’re cooling down on the treadmill, Iwaizumi returns to you.

“What’s wrong with you?” He knows you can hear him, because even when you’re working out together, you keep your headphones at a reasonable volume, so you can hear him.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s up with you letting that woman touch all over you?” In an effort to ignore him again you turn the speed up on the treadmill.

“Really? Baby, you know my job requires me to touch people.”

“God, I know that. I’m not even talking about you, I’m talking about how she was all over you, and you didn’t even notice or anything.” He’s laughing? You just told him how you feel and he laughs?

He walks over to the front of the treadmill where all the buttons are and slows it down to a walking speed.

“Honey, I told her to stop touching me more than what was necessary. It was indecent and inappropriate. Then I told her I was married to you and I think she decided to keep going…” He pauses for a second waiting for you to come to a walking pace.

“Wanna know what I told her next?” He takes your silence as a sign to keep going, “I said ‘I suggest you stop provoking my wife, she knows how to fight and I would hate to see her behind bars for something like this.’” He smirks at you and you look away in embarrassment.

“And you were really going at it during your workout so I’m assuming she took my word for it.”

You stop the treadmill and hop off to stand right in front of your husband.

“Sorry for being so petty.” He just smiles at you.

“No don’t apologize, I don’t blame you babe. I’d be the same way if some guy was all over you, with no good reason.” You grab him by the collar of his compression shirt, “You’re so damn hot. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

Note: last purple post!! 🥹 since i started this while my theme was purple. the hardest part of writing this was coming up with something sensible to be upset about 😭

[021894s]

- 24 who are you?[1.7k w]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf! sunghoon x f!readee

WARNINGS: jealousy, cussing, unprotected sex (wrap it bruh), oral sex (both receiving) MINORS DNI

AUTHORS NOTE: ehe hi besties, here’s a little something to spice things up😅 hope you enjoy <3

The party at Ksana's house was in full swing. you were with your friends, laughing and enjoying some drinks. The music thumped in the background, creating a vibrant and energetic atmosphere. as you chatted animatedly, your gaze drifted and you saw sunghoon talking with yuna. she seemed to be openly flirting, batting her eyelashes and smiling in a way that made you feel a pang of jealousy.

determined to intervene, you took one last sip of your drink, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in your throat, and walked briskly towards them. upon arriving, without missing a beat, you wrapped your arms around sunghoon's neck and smiled broadly.

"hi, baby, I was looking for you," you said in a sweet but firm tone, looking directly at sunghoon and then casting a quick, meaningful glance at Yuna.

sunghoon, surprised but clearly pleased, returned your smile and embrace. "Hi pretty," he responded, reciprocating your gesture with a warmth that made you feel secure.

yuna, clearly annoyed, took a step back. "who the hell are you?" she said, trying to maintain her composure as her eyes darted between you and sunghoon.

"his girlfriend. but the better question is who are you?" you replied, keeping your smile while holding onto him tighter, making it clear he was yours.

yuna mumbled an excuse, something about needing to find someone else, and quickly walked away, leaving you alone with Sunghoon. You felt a wave of satisfaction and relief as you watched her disappear into the crowd.

sunghoon looked at you with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "what are you doing? ," he said, pulling you a little closer.

"claiming my man" you responded, feeling the tension dissipate. "I couldn't let someone like her get too close."

he smiled "you're crazy, you know that? what if heeseung saw?? or better yet one of his little flings sees and tells him"

"I don’t care, you’re mine and she clearly needed to know that” you lean in to whisper in his ear, “plus you look so fucking good right now”

sunghoon’s eyes go dark, your words inevitably turning him on. “you think so?” the alcohol running through your veins give you the courage to suggest the next thing, lord knows sober you would not be as bold as you’re being in this very moment, especially in such a risky environment “mhm, why don’t you take me to your room so I can show you just how good you look”

without another word sunghoon is dragging you up the stairs, if he didn’t know heeseung was probably hooking up with some random girl in his own room he would be a lot more worried about being caught, but the feeling of his cock growing in his jeans prevented him from forming rational thoughts anyways.

when you both reached sunghoon’s room, you were the first to smash your lips against his in a hot searing kiss that reminded you of the first time this happened in japan. you pushed him back toward his bed until there was no where else to go. he sits on the edge and you straddle his lap, your arms going around his neck as you kissed him deeply. he groaned, his hands going to your waist as he deepened the kiss. he could feel how needy you were from the kiss alone.

you pulled back, your eyes filled with desire. you stood up, your hands going to the hem of your shirt as you pulled it over your head. you stood there in just bra and panties, your body on display for him. his eyes take in every inch of you. “shit baby you’re perfect”

you reached behind you, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the ground. you stood there, breasts bared for him to see. He groaned, his hands going to your tits as he squeezed them gently. you moaned, your head falling back as he played with your nipples. “feels so good hoonie”.

“yeah baby? love your pretty tits” oh your panties were growing wetter by the minute.

you reached down, your hands going to the waistband of your panties, pushing them down your legs, standing there completely naked in front of him. “fuck baby you’re getting me so hard”

“am I? I should probably do something about that then, don’t you think?” you reached down, hands going to the waistband of his pants as you undid his belt. you pulled it out of the loops, letting it fall to the ground, undoing the buttons of his pants, pulling them down his legs. you reached into his boxers, freeing his long, hard cock from its confines. “shit” sunghoon lets out in a low whisper, his bottom lip caged between his teeth at the sight before him.

you admired the pretty pink tip, how it was shiny and beginning to leak pre cum. you haven’t seen many dicks in your lifetime but you were willing to be sunghoons was one of the prettiest to ever exist. you gave it a few strokes, your hand working up and down his shaft. your eyes meet his as you lean down, mouth wrapping around the tip of his cock. eyes never leaving his, you sucked, tongue swirling around the head.

“just like that baby, feels so good” he groans his hands going to your head, holding you in place. you sucked harder, your mouth working up and down his shaft. you could feel him getting harder in your mouth, and you knew he was close.

you pulled back, eyes meeting his once again and you stood up from in between his legs. your hands going to his shoulders as you straddled his lap. “want you to fuck me” you positioned yourself over his cock, slowly lowering down onto him. his hands immediately go to your hips, holding you in place as you both let out a sigh at the purse euphoria you’re feeling. “pussys so tight baby, you gonna ride my cock?”

“y-yes hoonie” you begin to move, hips rocking back and forth as you rode him. He groaned, his hands going to your tite as he squeezed them gently, causing you to let out a pornagraphic moan, your head falling back as you felt him filling you up entirely. “so big fuck”

you leaned forward, hands going to the headboard to brace yourself. sunghoon began to thrust up into you, his hips meeting yours. “fuck baby you take me so good, can’t get enough of you” you moan, your body trembling as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

you leaned in, mouth finding his as you kissed him deeply. He groaned, his hands going to your ass as he squeezed it gently. you felt your orgasm quickly creeping up on you, vision blurry, the only thought in your mind was how perfect sunghoon felt inside you.

you broke the kiss, your head falling back as you felt herself tumbling over the edge “i’m c-cumming baby”. you cried out “fuck yeah baby cum on my cock. show me how good i make you feel” you feel your body shaking as you came hard. “i’m close baby” he tells you, his hips continuing to thrust up into you as he chased his own release.

he moans, his body trembling as he cums hard inside of you. you collapse onto him, your body spent. He wrapped his arms around you , holding you close as you caught your breath.

you sat there for a moment, your bodies still connected. you leaned back, eyes meeting his. you smiled at him, heart racing as you admired his tired out state.

He smiled, his hands going to your hips as he pulled you closer “that was incredible baby”. you wrap your arms around his neck, your body pressing against his. “you really know your stuff” you tell him, the both of you laughing and enjoying the moment,

you leaned in once again, your mouth finding his to kiss him deeply. his hands go to your ass, squeezing it gently. “would it be totally wrong for me to admit how much I want you to ride my face right now?”

you’re a bit taken aback by his sudden confession, but nonetheless it turns you right back on. “why don’t you let me then?” he smiles at you helping you up as you straddle his face, your legs already trembling in anticipation. “no hovering, i want you to sit” it sounds more like an order than anything and boy did it make you excited.

he could see the excitement in your eyes, and it made him hard. he couldn't wait to feel your wetness on his face, to taste you . He curls his arms around the back of your thighs pulling you closer to his waiting mouth. He begins to explore, flicking his tongue against your hardened nub, pressing light kisses as he works his way down to your wet hole. a soft gasp escapes your lips “mm shit”

you couldn't believe how good it felt. you had never felt anything like this before. sunghoon's tongue was magic, and he knew exactly how to t make you feel good. he was practically making out with your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. his tongue plunges in and out of you in a steady rythm that has you seeing stars. “fuck hoon your tongue feels so good” he moans against you, the vibrations causing a shiver down your spine.

you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your relapse, and he could feel it too. you grind your hips against his mouth in a quickened pace, his slender fingers coming up to rub your clit in tiny circles, sending you over the edge one again, “fuck fuck fuck baby, so so good”

with his lips back around your clit, you came., flooding his face with your juices. He helped you down, laying beside him as you came down from your high. “how was that?” you look at him, still dazed from how good he just made you feel “are you kidding? that was the best head i’ve ever had” he laughs, giving you a sweet, innocent cheek kiss that juxtaposes all the naughty things you both just indulged in. “let’s go clean up yeah?”.

the both of you spend the night in each others embrace. neither of you thinking much about how you were gonna get out of sunghoons room undetected by heeseung or jay. but that was a problem for tomorrow.

taglist: @cornenhapovs @myjaeyuns @magssu @jentlecoeur @heeslut4life @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @jaeyungxrl @rapmonie2047 @anormieee @nishislcve @leesura @en-happiness @heelariously @rikiwaify-blog og @ihrtgyuuu @hoonharem @g0niki @hearts4itoshi i i @yongbokified @shuichi-sama @xiaoderrrr r @skylalyla @yzzyhee @jwnghyuns @seokseokjinkim @syzavxy @xrvrqs @soulvrrs @velvetkisscs @eneiyri @meowmeowjang @simpjay @moonlighthoon @gaylilseokie @seunghancore @heelovesmeknot @nyfwyeonjun @kookify @jayhoonvroom @charlizefaye @mooniikay @nikiswifiee @heemilktea @yorukoshii i @sumzysworld

[formulawolff]

iv. raising the stakes - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.0k

warnings: cursing, age gap, mentions of divorce, power imbalances, mentions of age gap relationships, sexual references, toto wanting to be with you every second of every day, YEARNING, pining, yadayadayada, the works y'know

prev. | next.

“don’t tell me it’s that fucking nitwit.”

the team principal nearly growls, fury oozing into every single word. 

“i haven’t talked to him in a while,” panic starts to flare up, “fuck, fuck, fuck. what do i do?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“ignore him?” 

“i can’t do that,” you suck in a breath, “you need to go to my room. just sit on my bed or something until he leaves.”

“scared he’s going to catch on or something?” toto arches a brow, his tone shifting from scorn to a light-hearted tease, “oh schatz, are you worried your little boyfriend won’t like that you’re with another man?”

“no,” you scoff, “you know exactly what would happen if daniel saw both of us. go to my room. stay there until he leaves.”

“fine,” he rolls his eyes, clambering to his feet. he stretches slightly, wincing, “that was not my best idea.”

“that’s what happens when you’re an old man.”

the remark lights a new fire in toto, the austrian licking his lips, “oh don’t worry love, this old man will you show you soon he’s actually–”

“get. in. my. room.” you hiss, scrambling to your feet. 

“fine, fine,” he exhales, nodding towards the end of the hall, “i assume that’s it?”

“yes,” you affirm, “just stay there. answer some emails or something.”

“will do,” he whistles, turning on his heel. 

once the door to your room closes, you clear your throat. your voice was probably shaky from what just occurred. hell, even your brain felt like it was a pile of mush. 

there was not a single thought rattling around, your memory only replaying a constant loop of what just happened. 

oh fuck. you realize your shorts were completely soaked. and it was noticeable. although you weren’t going to be opening your legs, you were obviously flustered. 

time to act like nothing ever happened. 

quickly, you throw a blanket over you, “come in!”

daniel pokes his head in, a bright grin enveloping his face, “hey there, winner, winner!”

“how are you?” 

“i’m okay,” he shrugs, crossing over to the couch, “were you watching something? i thought i heard some voices.”

“oh yeah,” you nod fervently, “i was just watching some tik toks before you came in.”

“sorry it’s so late,” daniel fiddles with a loose thread on his shorts, “i figured i would come by after all the press and all that. you must be tired, yeah?”

“a little bit.

“it was a huge day for you,” he points out, “i’m happy for you. i really am. i couldn’t think of anyone who deserved that win more than you.”

you can’t help but feel a grin form, “thank you, danny.”

“also,” he lets out a shaky breath, “i feel like i owe you an explanation why i’ve been so distant this last week.”

“oh daniel you don’t have to–”

“but i do,” he interjects, his voice so quiet you had to lean forward to hear it, “i guess when you asked me that question after bahrain, i was confused. to tell you the truth, i was confused about how my feelings for you. i guess i never really addressed the feelings i had for you until you brought it up. yeah, i do have feelings for you. i am attracted to you. but i can’t act on them because i know that you would never pursue me in that matter. you’ve always seen me as one of your best friends, and that’s okay. i figured i would take a step back so i could heal without hurting you or lashing out. because it’s not your fault, it’s all been one-sided.”

“daniel i–”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he shakes his head, avoiding eye contact, “i had to heal on my own. i had to come to terms without bringing you into it. it would have been immature of me to make you feel like you had to reciprocate the attraction. besides, i feel like you’re attracted to someone else.”

your heart nearly stops beating for a moment, eyes widening, “oh – um, i–”

“you’ve always spoke so highly of carlos, and with the way you look at him, i have a gut feeling you like him.”

you can clearly picture toto in your room, leaning against the door, listening to every word. this meant you had to tread these waters carefully. 

very carefully. 

“oh daniel,” you begin, “at the moment, i’m not attracted to anyone on the grid. if anything, i see most of you guys like my brothers. it’s the best group of friends i could have ever asked for. if i were to have romantic relationships with any of you guys, i feel like it would diminish the bonds we have. also, i just don’t think it’s very professional. we have to keep things professional, you know?”

“i understand,” daniel’s eyes meet yours, and you can’t help but see nothing but anguish, “i appreciate you, i really do. can we just act like you never asked that question?”

“of course.”

“i love you,” daniel leans forward, scooping you in an embrace, “you’re the best. i’d stay and chat about your big win today, but i bet we’re both exhausted. i’ll text you, okay?”

“okay,” a giggle bubbles up as daniel shakes you back and forth, “i love you too, danny.”

“i’ll see ya around,” he places a swift peck on your temple before getting up, “sleep well. you deserve some rest.”

“you too,” you murmur, waving as the australian strolls out, “see you around.”

“byeeee!”

once the door shuts, you flop backwards, breathing out a sigh of relief. 

that seemed to go well. 

shooting up, you remember that there was a very large, very handsome austrian man waiting for you in your room. wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you spring up, nearly jogging down the hall. 

pushing open the door, your breath hitches in your throat. 

instead of being wide awake, toto is slumped on your bed, limbs sprawled out. light snores fill the air, his chest rising and falling. rays of moonlight cascade into the space, shrouding him with a soft glow. 

quietly, you make your way to the bed, discarding your shorts and underwear. after seeing the clothes on the floor, you realize you may as well ditch the top too. peeling it off, you toss it, burrowing under the comforter. 

toto stirs, blinking, “how long was i– oh my god.”

you can’t help but smirk as he’s left speechless, mouth agape, eyes nearly as wide as saucers, “not long. daniel only came over for about fifteen minutes.”

“and you didn’t wake me the moment you started taking off your clothes?”

“i didn’t know i was supposed to,” you tease, scooting towards the principal, “you don’t have to leave. you can stay.”

“i don’t know if i should,” light kisses pepper your nose, cheeks, and forehead, “they’re probably all wondering where i ran off to. i’ve been gone awhile and haven’t been answering my texts or calls. if i’m not careful, they might send out a search party.”

“lewis hamilton can’t be without his team principal for one second?” 

at your response, toto laughs, his chest vibrating against your shoulder blades, “you’d be surprised. at times i wonder if i adopted him as my own. george too.”

“please?” you roll over, facing him. for extra measure, you jut your bottom lip out, ensuring that your lashes flutter as you blink, “please stay?”

“hmmm,” he hums, leaning in, “what’s my incentive for staying?”

“you know, not everything is a business transaction.”

“i just wanted to hear you beg a little.”

the truth of the matter was that the team principal knew if he stayed, he would be in too deep. even further deeper than he already was. 

oh, toto wolff was already weak for you. 

but now? 

it was far worse than he could ever imagine. 

there was just something about you that he couldn’t shake. as you laid beside him, moonlight swathing your figure, he couldn’t resist admiring. fuck, you were just so gorgeous. 

however, that was not the only thing that drew him in. your aura alone was attractive enough. confident, radiant, oh so intelligent, and level-headed. also, you were unapologetically yourself. toto needed that. he needed someone to match his energy. 

the fact that you were one of the best drivers on the grid was just a bonus to the plethora of qualities that he adored. 

of course, there was that ever-present thought looming in his mind. 

if a single soul found out about this blossoming relationship, every aspect of his life would come crumbling down. 

his children would shun him. he would be let go from his esteemed position at mercedes. the fia would exploit his wrongs in every way imaginable. the media would have an absolute frenzy. his drivers would no longer speak to him. 

and susie? oh god. 

although there was still a band gleaming on his left finger, the marriage with susie had devolved three years ago. the papers weren’t signed until several months ago, the team principal keeping that matter private. merely for the sake of his ex-wife and children. wearing the band was simply a promise he made with susie for the time being, to keep the public thinking that they were still happily married. 

the divorce would be announced at the end of the 2024 season, just so that the media wouldn’t speculate. 

although, they already speculated more than he liked. 

yet, there was this part of him that urged him to take that risk. to pursue you. to get to know every part of you. to learn, cherish, and love you in every way possible. 

you were his golden girl, without a doubt. 

a shining ray of light that deserved the world. 

and by god, he was more than determined to give you that.

“toto,” your eyes were closed, lashes fluttering as a hand ran through your hair, “can you please stay?”

“if i stay,” the team principal shifted his body, propping himself up with an elbow, “i’m going to have to leave early. probably before sunrise so that i’m not spotted.”

“you could just disguise yourself.”

“right,” a light chuckle flows his lips, “i’ll find a mustache and stick it on. no one would ever dare recognize me then.”

“you think?” fuck, your giggle was going to be the death of him. 

“i know,” leaning over, he presses a kiss on your temple, “i’ll stay, schatz. just don’t be disappointed if you wake up and i’m not there. all right?”

“all right,” you nod, sleep slurring your words. 

quickly, toto unbuttons his shirt, discarding it to the floor. fuck, it was probably going to be wrinkly in the morning, but he didn’t care. as long as he got to spend a few more hours with you, it would make up for it. standing, he unbuckles his belt, slacks falling to the floor. 

pulling the comforter back, he curls up next to you, bringing you close to his chest. 

“you know, sixteen-year-old me would be screaming, crying, throwing up, right now.”

“is that right?” his chest rumbles as he laughs, “well, we’ll have create a time machine to let sixteen-year-old you that all of her dreams come true.”

“are you sure you don’t have a crush on me, mr. wolff?”

“like i said before schatz,” his arms squeeze you gently, “crushes are for children.”

“then what is it?”

“we’ll have to find out,” toto found his eyelids drooping as you snuggle closer, “goodnight, golden girl.”

in his heart, toto knew the answer all too well. 

if the two of you continued to meet like this, one of you would be bound to want a relationship. with such a bright future ahead for you, would you even want to settle down at mercedes with a man like him? a previously divorced man going through a potential midlife crisis? 

additionally, if the two of you continued to meet like this, one of you would be bound to fall in love. 

and if that was the case, the stakes would only be higher. 

not only would be acquiring one of the best drivers in formula one’s history, he would be acquiring the girl he loved. 

and god, was he determined to make that happen. 

by any means possible. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @toldyouitwasamelodrama

please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

[httpsserene]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 - 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 | 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐏𝐍𝐅 |

𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

summary: if you love her, you have to let her go. who the hell came up with that? content warning: vacation romance. profanity. a couple of suggestive lines. one line of dark humor (toaster bath). fluff and angst. sibling dynamics (bullying). friendship. hard launch (but sad). emotional support esteban ocon (shrugs). heartbreak. this might count as getting together/breaking up. pairing: lance stroll x fem!black!reader

from serene: i feel like i have to reiterate that this does have a happy ending (in the next part). i think my tags are over dramatic asl but, i’m not trying to getting jumped in my inbox for miss tagging anything. also, i know lance isn’t a “popular driver” (whatever that fuckin means) but i’m in love with this smau, and i will not be accepting any judgement xxx

⌕ prev | join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents | series toc | next ↻

instagram • ynplays • december 14th • cozy in a cabin ⚑

liked by valkyrae, yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, and 43,879 others

ynplays: falling love with canada🇨🇦🍁🏒⛸️🌨️

tagged yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, nhl

view comments

ynplays: sega cries after he walks us back to our room at night and leaves 😫

➥ user1: she’s just a liddol girl 🥹

➥ user2: the puppy has spoken u have to keep him i don’t make the rules 🤷🏿‍♀️

➥ user3: so...you have no choice but to run away with him into the sunset.

yoursister: booooo we get it you've been brainwashed by a canadian man 🙄🙄🙄

➥ ynplays: when was the last time you smiled today

➥ yoursister: it's difficult when ALL you do is yap about your crush on this hockey-core man 🤢

➥ ynplays: he gives himbo hockey player IM TELLNG YOU !!!

➥ user4: so he's canadian 😶

user5: his name starts with an L, he's approx 6'0, is brunette with brown eyes, and he's canadian with hockey player vibes👐🏻

➥ user6: i could walk two (2) steps outside of my house in ottawa and i'd run into a man who fits this description 😭😭

➥ user7: he sounds like every other bitch???

➥ user8: let's go through every minor and major hockey league roster again

➥ yourfriend1: "again?" who TF has time for that

user9: tagging THE nhl is crazy 💀

➥ user8: i'm telling you he's a hockey player

➥ user10: idk man he doesn't look like a hockey build in either of these photos🤔

igstory • yoursister uploaded!

[caption1; me and sis] [caption2; fuck. i guess they're kinda cute together 😒]

yourfriend2: did you see them doing snow angels together 🥺🥺☹️ yourfriend2: that had me smiling ngl...they're adorable yoursister: yeah, i'm just happy there's no red flags she's ignoring, he seems like a genuine dude

user11: do you improve of this lance? 6'0, brown eyes, brunette, canadian hockey player 🙂 yoursister: uhh i fear for his life,,are u gonna put a hit on him or smth yoursister: also he is not a hockey player lol user11: oh🫣 yoursister: i'm pretty sure he's like a car engineer or smth? i think i heard him say that

twitter • december 16th

instagram • ynplays • december 16th • sanctuary ⚑

liked by nhl, yoursister, yourbestie, yourmom, and 42,313 others

ynplays: i don't want to leave.

view comments

nhl: not me crying 😩 - admin

➥ user12: huh

➥ user13: nhl admin relatable

yourbestie: aw babe. enjoy your last five days here :)

➥ ynplays: i only have five days left 😟

➥ yourfriend1: oh girlie...it'll be alright

➥ yourfriend2: i always hate this part of the vacation

yoursister: please ask lance if he's willing to take you off my hands. permanently preferably.

➥ ynplays: are you familiar with the term sympathy?

➥ yoursister: oh you're sad for real

➥ yoursister: 😕 therapy session in the hot tub now ladies

➥ user14: this is depressing me

user15: hey, you can just elope? i don't think you've added that to your toolbox yet

➥ ynplays: too sad to even consider it rn

➥ ynplays: nvm he invited me to his cabin later 👅✌🏽

➥ user15: use protection 🙂‍↔️

user16: i feel like this should have a sensitive content warning

➥ user17: my day is ruined

➥ user18: and my disappointment is immeasurable

➥ user19: THERES 104 DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION🗣️🔊

➥ user20: read the room man @/user19

twitter • ynplays • december 21st

instagram • lancestroll • december 24th

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, and 2,109,764 others

lancestroll: winter break has never felt so short. i missed you the second you stepped away from me. happy holidays, baby.

tagged ynplays

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estebanocon: it’ll get better eventually mate ❤️‍🩹 believe it or not

➥ lancestroll: finding it hard to believe rn

chloestroll: come have some hot cocoa with me

➥ lancestroll: yn liked hot cocoa

➥ scottyjames31: oh mate…

➥ user21: okay, i'm concerned for my health. there's some sort of clear liquid leaking from my eyes

➥ user22: FUCK man this is sad 😕

astonmartinf1: chin up lance - admin

➥ alpinef1team: feeling for you mate - admin

➥ mercedesamgf1: sad it ended up like this for you lance - admin

➥ user23: the f1 teams are assembling like the avengers in infinity war for this

➥ user24: an unforgettable day in f1 history

yourmom: fix this. liked by lancestroll

➥ user25: w mama 🤩

➥ user26: tell him ma'am ‼️‼️

yourbestie: thank you for being good to her when you had her

➥ lancestroll: don't thank me for that.

➥ user27: cooking up my toaster bath actually

user30: well this is not the hard launch i wanted to confirm our theory.

➥ user31: brb about to create them in the sims and make them get married and have 6 children, sega, two cats and let them get old together

➥ user: realest cure for heartbreak

user28: no way they decided not being together at all is worse than being long distance

➥ yoursister: that's what i sad but nobody listens to me

➥ user28: why'd they do it???

➥ yoursister: my sister can be incredibly stupid about returned feelings. and for some reason she chose now to "protect her heart"

➥ user29: she deserves her happy ending and needs to allow herself to have it 😭😭😭

twitter • ynplays • december 25th

imessage • lance -> yn

© httpsserene 2024

[madhattervanessa]

Crumble

Summary: It's been weeks. Mabye you should leave?

Warnings: Flirting, Miscommunication

Words: 518

A/N: Look I... I have fallen into a rabbit hole with these two. They are idiots and they are my idiots and there will probably be around 3-4 more drabbles on these guys. Have fun! Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

prev. Part - next Part

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“Simon?”

You ruffle through his dresser, huffing as you fail to find any underwear. 

“Wha’?”

You look up from the dresser and puff up your cheeks in frustration.

He is leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, one hand holding his toothbrush, the other languidly holding on to the top of the frame as he waits for an answer.

“I’m out of underwear again.”

His eyebrows barely jump as if to say and?.

“Can you get some from my apartment?”

He grunts and leaves for a moment.

You hear him rinsing out his mouth in the bathroom before he returns.

He pulls a black shirt over his head and you do your best not to go doe-eyed at the way his muscles ripple with the movement.

“Stop looking at me like that, dove. Gonna get you in trouble.”

You grin, fidgeting with your hands behind your back as you watch him pull on some sweatpants.

“If you’re the trouble, I’d like to get into that.”

You’re met with a scolding look, but you can already tell he liked that.

“‘S why you always run out of underwear, pet. Don’t know why you bother at this point. Should just keep your stuff here.”

“What?”

You’ve gone completely still at the statement.

Simon doesn’t even throw you another look.

“When did you last sleep in your bed, hm?”

You twiddle your thumbs as you try to remember.

It must have been a month now?

Damn.

“Oh. Uhm, right.” You crumble under the weight of his gaze and go to collect the panties that had been flung across the room just last night. “You probably want at least some space when you’re not deployed.”

You hear a sigh behind you.

You are chewing on the inside of your cheek as you step into your underwear, pulling them up to gently let the elastic snap into place against your hips.

When Simon’s hands gently grab you from behind, it makes you jump.

“That’s not what I said.”

He pulls you back until you are pressed against his chest.

“Well, it’s what I got from that. If you just wanted to have me around to fuck, that’s fine-”

He simply covers your mouth with one broad palm, his lips against your temple as he sways you a little.

“Did you not hear me when I said that I liked you? Hm?”

You huff against his hand but let him hold you still.

“Y’keep thinking way too much. If I’d wanted nothing to do with you, I wouldn’t have let you in here. Wouldn’t have bought you treats and coffee. Sure as hell wouldn’t have fucked your needy little cunt, love.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the memory of last night.

“‘s bloody inconvenient having to let you get out of this apartment just for you to fetch some underwear I’ll rip off of you anyways. That’s all that’s bothering me.”

He lifts his hand from your mouth and pets your waist. His forehead drops to your shoulder and you feel his lips press a kiss to the skin there.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

[landograndprix]

where your heart truly lies ✾ l.n - v

❧ in which you and lando are not together, right?

❧ contains topics such as cheating || plottwist? || started writing this, loved it, started editing, hated it, hit post, enjoy :')

❧ prev part – next part

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y/nusername posted to their story

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yourbestfrienduser

liked by pierregasly, y/nusername and 21,872 others

yourbestfrienduser when your girlfriend get's her heart broke you take her to her favorite place. ♥ #beingasugardaddyislit

Tagged: y/nusername

View all 255 comments

fabyn gets her heart broke?? Who's ass do I need to beat?!

maxverstap let's be honest, probably lando..

fabyn I can fight that kid for sure

hannahh wait so you won't be at the race this weekend? Ah man I really wanted to meet you guys 😔

maxfewtrell really loved my invite

yourbestfrienduser better luck next time I guess 🤪

norry4 please don't tell me lando fucked up the friendship..

carlito55 whatever happened, my girl is innocent, she did nothing wrong

y/nnorriss she's just a baby 🥺

pierreswifey pierre what are you doing here 😭

bott_ass man's said let me swoop in real quick while I still have a chance

charles_leclerc I know some Italian if you need some translation 😉

sharl16 you're so bad at flirting my man

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y/nusername

liked by pierregasly, riabish and 23,712 others

y/nusername 🇮🇹

tagged: pierregasly, yourbestfrienduser

view all 277 comments

charlos16 this is the best fucking thing I've ever seen in my life

fewtrelllando hell yeah girl, go get that dick!!!!

norrizz lmao girl relax, they spend the day together..doesn't have to mean anything

lolaaaaxox I live for all of this, please the drama is just the best thing

pierregasly Paris next? 😉

luvyn boy leave my girl alone 😭

pgas10 please what is happening 😭

riabish have fun love ❤️

yourbestfrienduser loved being the third wheel..

pierregasly you were with us?

yourbestfrienduser I actually was, not that you would have noticed anyway

pierregasly no, was busy enjoying the real view 😉

yukisan stooooop I'm going mad I'm soo confused bro 😭

landonorris nice

landoscar pls 💀

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Taglist: @honethatty12 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @spideyspeaches @babyvinnie @summerslike11 @waratah-vroom @beatricemiruna @thecubanator2 @lunamelona @leclercdream @pedrileclerc @chelseagirl98 @azxulaa @mxsonxmountx @fleetastic @mycenterfold

if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you!

[leaderwon]

HATE THAT..

chapter 39 — what a bitch

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

luna's diary : a small chapter, I'm really sorry. i intended it to be longer but I'm not really feeling my best

warnings : Jake is a bitch, we hate pisseul and mentions of violence

prev — masterlist — next

The welcoming faces of Jake's parents greeted you as you stepped into the house. The middle aged woman hugged you as a smile adorned her features.

You loved Jake's mom, she was kind and extremely sweet. The best part about her though? Her cooking.

It was the main motivation that made you come here. You didn't know what it was, no matter how old you were or what the situation was, you would always eat whenever she cooked for you.

You saw Jake's dad hug yours as they wanderered off to whatever old men do.

"Come to the dining room, I've prepared all your favorites" You heard Mrs. Sim say to you with a warm smile on her face.

Going deeper into the house, you heard Jake's voice as he was conversing with someone else.

You didn't think much about it, until you saw her.

"Park Iseul?" Your mom's cheerful voice broke you from the mini shock you had gotten.

Whatever excitement you previously had, was now vanished as you looked at Iseul hoping it was a dream.

This cannot be happening.

Your mom embraced the girl in her arms as she pointed out on how pretty Iseul had gotten.

She was right, Iseul had gotten pretty ever since she came back from america

You felt insecurity take over you as you noticed your mom looking at Iseul with all the love in the world in her eyes.

At this moment, you envied Iseul. Ever since you arrived back home, all you recieved were dry replies or glares from your mom.

Seeing someone who caused all of this in the first place recieve the look that you deserved snapped something inside you.

"Iseul missed Jake, so she decided to join us for dinner tonight" Her mom exclaimed as she handed you a plate, showing you where your favorite food was placed.

You were starting to lose the remaining bits of your appetite as a gut feeling of something about to get worse started to annoy you.

This was Park Iseul we were talking about. There's no way in hell she would let you be in peace.

You were having an amazing time catching up with Jake's parents trying your best to ignore Jake and Iseul who say across you.

"Y/n, Do you still play football?" Jake's dad curiously asked you. "Oh yeah, i recently joined the football team as center forward" You replied.

"She got captaincy too" Iseul said as her annoying voice butted into the conversation.

"What about you Iseul, have you been playing after america? I heard you also joined the same university as Jake and y/n" Your dad asked the girl.

"I was playing for a while, but i got into a tiny accident" She said as she gave your dad a smile.

What a bitch.

"Tiny accident? Iseul don't lie" You heard Jake's voice for the first time since this dinner had started.

"What do you mean?" Your mom asked questioning the two of them.

"It's no-" "Ms. Y/N here wanted captaincy so bad, she got Iseul into an accident" Jake said interrupting Iseul.

No.

"What?" Your dad spoke in shock.

Your mom had an idea of you "bullying" Iseul, but your dad was kept out of the loop to prevent a fight breaking out in your house. Which you were now sure was going to happen.

"Iseul, is this true?" It was Jake's dad turn to speak up now. "I'm sure she didn't mean it" She said innocently.

Innocent my fucking ass. I'm gonna kill this bitch.

Jake who was now visibly pissed started talking about how I had "allegedly" bullied Iseul.

The whole table went into an awkward silence as people started to take in these fake peice of information.

You stood up catching everyone's attention. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you finally spoke up, "Iseul's lying. I didn't bully her" You tried defending yourself.

"I don't know wh-" Your dad interrupted you getting up from the his seat as well. "We're leaving" He said sternly.

"Thank you so much for having us" He continued making his way to the door as the color of your face slowly drained.

Jake knew how your dad was, yet he still did this over a lie?

You were having trouble believing this situation was real. Your eyes made their way towards Jake as he looked anywhere except you.

He knew your dad was violent. Fortunately, he wasn't so physically. But you absolutely despised your inner peace being broken by a fight in your house.

You couldn't count the days you've ran to Jake crying your eyes out.

He had to feel some sort of emotion right? Sympathy? maybe.

All your hopes were crushed as he finally connected his eyes and gave you that glare.

"Y/N, let's go" Your mom said. You gave Jake a look of disbelief as you finally left his house mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to face.

TAGLIST (open!send an ask to be added COMMENTS WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED) : @fertilizedtoesw @ynsvnte @jaeyunluvr @liinori @n1k1mura @syzavxy @alex-is-sleeping @hoondiors @baevsxii @rikimylove @enhaslxt @erehkinnie30 @desistay @ifuckedheeseung @haechansbbg @sumzysworld @simjyunnie @cha0thicpisces @noobgod1269 @sol3chu @potatosoulp1h @welovechaes @firstclassjaylee @miniature-tragedy @beommii @jiyechoi @dimplewonie @feeling-woozi @jjunie-0 @butterfliesinthenightsky @jindoriyam @iheartjayke @minthoons @dreamiestay @layla240 @heeseungismymanz @suneng @vixensss @woorcve @hyunjinheartbreakprince @blujk @electrobutterfly @dismaldiary @melancholy-z @missychief1404 @lhspeachie @grassbutneo @roryirl @heeheesang

© @leaderwon 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. v

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 5.2 k

warning : adultery, cheating, negative depiction of wooyoung, name calling, (y/n) finally growing a damn spine frfr

a/n : i'm finally updating this oh my god has it been so damn long I am saw sawrey for skipping updating in july. let's hope I can update twice on September or just not forget to update in september lmaoooooo i

buy me coffee ?

Ever since that day at the hospital, you felt like you've been living your life on autopilot. Scratch that, it felt like you were just watching your life happening like a movie. You couldn't quite feel anything and it was as if life's choices were already made for you.

Oh yeah. Choices.

As if that word meant anything to you.

You were reluctant to go back to see Wooyoung at the hospital as he had once again been put on a 24-hour observation period because he had exhibited signs of mental distraught on top of his back pain. Ironic. Your plan was to pack some of his shit up, throw it at him and tell him that he could finally go live with his whore and just make an exit from his life and maybe for once you could work your children into your decision instead of it going the other way.

But of course, life had a different plan because the devils must be making snowmen in hell.

Once your children were made aware of the situation their father was in (all thanks to San, one of Wooyoung's partners who struck up a conversation with Dayoung when he came by the house to drop off some things Wooyoung had requested from earlier in the morning), they immediately asked to be taken to him. At that moment you wanted to tell them that it wouldn't be possible since you and Wooyoung were splitting or separating or whatever the correct term was. But seeing their distraught face and hearing them beg you broke your heart, it was obvious that you couldn't break their hearts at that moment. So you relented, you took them to the hospital the next day, allowing them to skip school against your better judgment. You can see how stereotypes about children being spoiled after their parents divorced came to be.

Wooyoung was honestly surprised to see you through his door. He had thought that you would never show your face again but there you stood in front of him, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. But before he could say anything (nothing you wanted to hear anyway), you raised a hand and told him the situation, including the fact that your children knew nothing and that you weren't planning on telling them until the two of you could sit them down together and have a proper discussion when the time is right, so until then, you promised to remain civil as long as he promised to do the same and also not involve his affair partner with their children yet. Wooyoung attempted to protest because he felt like he needed to let you know that he was well on his way to breaking up with her before the incident and he had even told her to not come to the hospital and to not visit him at all. Unfortunately, you didn't want to hear what he had to say and you simply opened the door to let your children in, rushing to their father with tears in their eyes from being so worried.

During the whole visit, you stayed in the far corner, looking at your children interacting with their father for a good hour before you suddenly left the room. You came back with one of Wooyoung's gigantic Prada travel bags, plopping it on his bed before instructing your children that their dad needed to rest. They had attempted to bargain with you, telling you that they weren't going to school anyway so it wouldn't hurt if they were to stay and take care of their father. It astounded you that Wooyoung had the audacity to tell them that they'd have plenty of time with him when he come home. It was one of the rare times your anger took over you but you let slip that Wooyoung would not come home with you. You immediately regretted saying that.

"What do you mean dad's not coming home with us? He's sick, mom," Dayoung scoffed, tightening her grip on Wooyoung's arm angrily. Still, you stood your ground, "I... Am not equipped to care for a sick man. He hurt his back again after three weeks of me taking care of him so obviously someone else could take care of him," you cleverly took a jab at the bitch he had been with and Wooyoung was well aware of it as seen from the way his face grew red and his eyes started to well up with tears. Unfortunately for you, Woohyun saw this and he immediately climbed up to his dad's bed, frantically wiping his tears, "Daddy don't cry!" he whimpered, and he too started tearing up seeing his dad with tears in his eyes and seeing how much his son loved him, Wooyoung started crying as well, overwhelmed from the way his children cared for him which pushed his guilt into its maximum level because he had finally realized the other people he had hurt with his inexcusable decision.

You were very much aware of why Wooyoung was crying and again, you couldn't help but let your feelings overtook you as you rolled your eyes. Dayoung, seeing you reacting the way you did, took a big offence since she had clearly seen you with Yunho and based off of the wrong conclusion she drew, she took your behaviour as you trying to leave Wooyoung for his own friend. But of course, she couldn't reveal her knowledge just yet.

"Mom, how could you be so cruel?" she spat, "I swear, if something happens to dad because you wouldn't take him in because you're so selfish, I will never forgive you," she declared.

And that was how you ended up spending the next 4 days sleeping on the couch with Wooyoung sleeping in your bed. The man who broke your heart slowly started to break your back in a new way, a way unlike he had done a long time ago. The time when you both were still in love. The time when it was all still good.

"Thank you."

A voice broke you out of your trance and when you looked around, you saw Wooyoung leaning against the bathroom door, looking somewhat bashfully at the floor before his eyes moved to yours from the mirror. Unfortunately for him, you immediately shifted your gaze to the pile of towels you were folding and storing into the cabinet.

"For letting me stay here," he finished, offering you a small smile as a gesture of goodwill as if you were expecting him to thank you. You'd very much like to say that his gesture meant nothing to you and that you no longer felt anything for him. What's more infuriating was the smile he gave you was still the mirror image of the boyish grin that managed to charm you into trying yourself to him, it was the same boyish grin that made your stomach flutter even at that moment, despite him hurting you and betraying you. You hated it. You hated him for making you feel like that and you hated yourself for letting yourself feel like that.

You cleared your throat, willing yourself to hold your emotions at bay despite feeling like breaking down out of sadness and frustration. "Don't thank me, Wooyoung," Wooyoung felt his stomach drop from the way you called his name out and it instinctively made him swallow the lump in his throat, "If you must thank anyone, thank your children. Particularly your daughter whom I'd have to admit is quite the master extortionist and manipulator, I'd wonder more about where she inherited those traits if I'm not more concerned that she has what it takes to be a politician one day," you said, avoiding looking at Wooyoung with absolute determination which hurt him but he had to admit he absolutely deserved. But he didn't want to push his pity party on you so he swallowed his feelings and stepped into the bathroom, "You... I don't think the couch would be a very comfortable place to sleep in and you've been at it for four days so," you cut him off with a scoff, "I can say with absolute confidence that the couch was very uncomfortable for several good night's rest, especially considering the fact that after the torture, I still have to cater to your children and also you." That time you really wanted to drive in the hostility to let him know that you definitely did not let him stay out of the goodness of your heart. "Well you could've joined me in our bed," he sighed, saying the words as if he didn't know what he was saying and the gravity of it all.

But if he was oblivious to his words then the glare you gave him once you turned around conveyed all the feelings you reserved for him. "You know damn well why I couldn't have, Wooyoung," you spat, shoving the towels into the cabinet harshly as you sped up your work so you could get out of the room faster. "We might be fighting and all, (y/n) but if it's costing you your rest and your wellbeing then-" "Fighting? You think we're-" You held yourself from screaming at him and pushed past him to peek outside, wanting to make sure that neither one of your kids were nearby to hear the conversation. Wooyoung took this as you leaving the room to not talk to him so he was surprised when you turned back to push him inside the bathroom, this time with you near the door.

"Get this into your head, Wooyoung, we didn't fight, we didn't have a disagreement, it wasn't a misunderstanding between us, you fucking CHEATED on me with the first doe-eyed slut bitch who was willing to open her legs and break up a family probably because she was just so stupid and deluded enough to think that she could make her own family with you, so no, I couldn't share that bed or other beds or any other surface where one could rest on with you because you have ruined me, Wooyoung, you have ruined our marriage, and you have ruined my inner peace so all you could do now is get the fuck better so I can either kick you out or leave without being manipulated by anyone just because you're physically injured when I'm absolutely dead. You killed me, you killed my soul. You and that whore." you spat before turning and leaving him in the bathroom as quickly as you could so he couldn't stop you. Tears were brimming in his eyes as he let the words you hurled at him pierce his heart but he couldn't even complain. After all, he hurt you a million times worse so he had no excuse for himself.

You rushed to the kitchen, the only place you could think of to cool down and not just because you downed a tall glass of iced water that did nothing for your anguish. To make things worse, as you were still trying to calm yourself, your daughter came strolling in on her phone, being absolutely clueless over your distress.

"Hey Mom, can we order that soup from that place Dad likes for dinner? He seems rather down and y'know... Flimsy lately, I just want him to get his strength back."

Oh, how you wanted to ask her why she cared so much for her dad but she couldn't spare common decency to you. By all means you were not a vindictive person nor were you petty. But God, at that moment you wanted to turn around and ask her, "What about me? What about what I like? What about what I need? What about how I've been broken for months now because your father is a cheating son of a bitch?" Unfortunately, you were not your husband. You were not selfish. You were too good even to those who had betrayed you and then some.

"Mom?" She called, an eyebrow raised along with her face from her phone when she didn't hear you answer her. Sighing, you immediately gather yourself to make your leave quickly, "We can talk about this later, I need to pick up Woohyun from the Academy, his class is ending soon."

Dayoung didn't find that answer acceptable so she pressed, "No way, you'll be gone for a while and if we 'talk' about it later, Dad would have to wait to eat and that would be bad for someone who's sick!" "I really can't talk right now sweetie, I promise I just need to go now," you said, turning around to make your leave only to see Dayoung in your way, glaring at you. "Why are you rushing to go to the Academy?" It was such a confusing question because while the answer is easy and you were sure she even knew but her tone made it seem like she was alluding to another meaning. You opened your mouth to answer but she beat you to it, "Who are you rushing to see, Mom? Is it Uncle Yunho? Are you rushing so you could spend more time with him? Perhaps you're hoping to get more hugs from him or maybe something more?" The accusation dropped on you like a thousand tons and your jaw slacked from surprise, "Mind your tone, young lady. What are you trying to say?" "I saw you and Uncle Yunho hugging in front of our house. Mind telling me what all of that was?"

In your daughter, you saw a glimpse of your husband and it infuriated you. Her defiance, her stubbornness, her instinct to pursue the truth. While all of that might be good in life when applied properly, you couldn't help but be sure that your girl had crossed a line with you.

"I don't need to talk to you about that and you don't need to know more than the fact that it was nothing, it was between me and my friend and your tone is disrespectful so I would suggest you drop this attitude RIGHT NOW," you didn't mean to sound so harsh and you felt bad when Dayoung's bottom lip quivered before she dashed out of the kitchen, going God knows where. A tired sigh escaped your lips, you truly were under a lot of pressure and even though you were stressed, even though you were emotional, you shouldn't have snapped at your daughter like that. You knew you had to make it up to her but at that moment, you really do need to go get Woohyun so you simply grabbed your bag and your keys and left the house.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung jumped slightly when Dayoung came barging into his room, huffy and her face all red. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion seeing her in such a state. "Dayoung, what ha-" "How do you stand her?" she asked, cutting Wooyoung off. "What?" "How can you stand Mom? She's such a bitch," she hissed, wiping the tears off her cheek.

Wooyoung was taken aback at the language Dayoung used to describe you. "Hey, don't talk about your mother like that," Wooyoung scolded, voice firm and he stood up from his bed, "I didn't raise you to use such language on your mom." "But she IS a bitch!" Dayoung screeched, "You don't know what she's been doing behind your back, Dad. God, she's so manipulative, you don't even know!" Wooyoung felt his body vibrate with anger because he couldn't let his own daughter talk about you like that. "You drop this, Jung Dayoung, you drop this right now because you don't know what you're talking about and I'm not willing to listen to you talk smack about your own mother," he warned in a low voice. Usually, when Wooyoung spoke to her like this, Dayoung would drop it and say sorry, wanting to go back to her dad's good graces. But not this time, not when she felt that her father had been wronged by you. "Oh Dad, believe me, I know A LOT of stuff. For example, I know that there is stuff going on between Mom and Uncle Yunho," Dayoung said pointedly.

There was something that was like a tug on his heart hearing your name and Yunho's in a sentence that was put in such a way. But he knew that you were not like that and his daughter shouldn't talk about her own mom like that. "Jung Dayoung, I'm warning you, drop this right now," he sternly said. Despite seeing the seriousness in her dad's eyes, Dayoung pressed on, "You don't think I noticed that there's something going on between you two this past couple of months? The tension is palpable and don't even get me started on Mom sleeping on the couch and saying that it was because you needed the space to heal. WAKE UP DAD, MOM'S CHEATING ON YOU!" she yelled out.

"SHE COULDN'T BE CHEATING ON ME BECAUSE I WAS THE ONE WHO CHEATED ON HER!" Wooyoung yelled louder, causing Dayoung to jump back in shock not just because of his volume but also because of the information Wooyoung just revealed. The moment the words left Wooyoung's mouth, it felt like cold water was splashed on him. Harshly. But he couldn't take it back, he couldn't go back from this.

"I... Cheated on your mother... And then she found out. She told me she found out that day I got hurt because..." Wooyoung paused, suddenly deciding that he shouldn't tell Dayoung that he was with his side piece when you found out. Not that it helped because Wooyoung's sudden reluctance to finish his sentence was a dead giveaway. "I was the asshole in this situation and (y/n)- your mother has been sleeping on the couch because she couldn't bear sharing a bed with me but you and Woohyun had asked me to stay so she held it in. She did what she was asked and she did it despite her own personal apprehension. She loves you so much that she'd rather suffer silently rather than disappointing you and Woohyun." The more Wooyoung spoke of your action and about your altruism, the more he realized how much he fucked up by cheating on you. He had gotten everything he wanted from you, heck you put it on a silver, golden, platinum platter stacked over one another and when it got hard for you, when you needed him the most, he took your kindness and love for granted and pursued the suddenly missing 5% from you. He hated himself. And by the look Dayoung gave, it seem like he isn't the only one.

For the first time ever, Dayoung looked at her father with such hurt and disappointment that even Wooyoung could taste the hatred on his tongue.

"So your mother doesn't deserve to be called a bitch because she is far from one. She's a saint for putting you, me, and Woohyun over her own self so you will show her the respect she deserves. The respect we all owe her," he stated firmly but his voice shook around the part about you deserving respect. Wooyoung was sure that no one could think of him lower than he already thought of himself. Though people could easily conduct a poll.

With chest heaving, Dayoung took a step back, then another, then another until she reached the door and her hand reached for the handle, "Don't talk to me like that, I am nothing like you in this equation." As if she couldn't bear another second with her father, Dayoung left the room the same way she came in, by slamming the door. Wooyoung had braced himself to receive backlash but to hear his own daughter harshly stating how she was not like her father truly hurt him. But it was all deserved and he couldn't even complain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It would appear that the day had been kinder to you than expected because you had planned on postponing coming home late by allowing Woohyun to take his time packing his stuff or taking him out to dinner and maybe get some dinner for Wooyoung and Dayoung at another place. Maybe another city. But as it appears, Woohyun's class ran longer than expected since they had a special guest teacher who came in from another country. Hearing this, you were about to leave the premises to wait in your car or go to a convenience store when you heard Seonghwa, one of Wooyoung's former dance crew mates turned business partner and teacher of the academy, called you up.

"Hey (y/n), how's it going?" He asked, beaming with happiness. Pissed that your friend cheated on me with one of your staff, you thought, "Good, Seonghwa. How are you? How's dating life?" you teased which made him roll his eyes, "Oh shut up, I should have settled down in my late 20s like you told me to. The girls who approach me only approach me because they have daddy issues and I don't know what to do with that information." Still better than my marriage I'd guess, you snarkily added in your head. "I was just about to step out for a bit until Woohyun finished his class, so..." You trailed off, trying to give him the hint that you were trying to get away but it simply went over his head. "Actually, I have some things for Wooyoung to look over, I know he's supposed to be back soon but these are just a couple of plans, budget details, and meeting minutes he can look over to catch up. I was planning to give it myself later tonight but since you're here, would it be okay for me to ask you to give them to him?" he smiled a bit too gleefully for your taste because you were in such a bad state. But you couldn't fault his nonchalance as he was not aware of the situation happening at home. So you nodded at Seonghwa, returning his smile though it wasn't half as genuine as his, "Sure, you can give it to me." "Great, thanks! Wait here, I'll go to the office and get them for you!" Seonghwa then jogged in the direction of the joint office in the back, leaving you at the waiting area where the receptionist is and also other students with their friends and some younger ones with their parents.

"Mrs. Jung?"

That voice froze you not just because you were surprised, but also because that voice was the one voice you didn't want to hear calling for you.

"Mrs. Jung!" Harin called before she jogged over to stand next to you, "Hello, it's nice seeing you again!" she smiled cheerfully which made you want to slap her face as hard as you could but you kept your composure. Even if the inner side of your cheek took the brunt to the point of nearly bleeding. You mustered all of the patience in your body to hum in acknowledgment and gave her the most neutral, polite smile you could give. "A-are you here alone? What are you doing at the Academy?" she asked. What bitch, you were hoping that Wooyoung's here too? And this is his academy that his kids have been part of since before you came here two years ago, I'm welcomed here unlike you in my fucking marriage. "Woohyun," you simply said before you averted your gaze, purposefully turning around in hopes that she'll get the hint and leave you before you maul her like a rabid cat. "I like Woohyun, he's so nice to me," Harin chuckled a bit too innocently for your liking due to the insinuation and the situation, "He always calls me pretty and compliments me. Of course, he's just a generally nice kid because even the other dancers like him. And of course, they also like Dayoung who's just so opinionated and strong and bright. They truly are the mirror image of their dad."

That was fucking it.

"Really!?" you snapped at her with a voice so sharp it should've turned her into ceviche. Harin jumped slightly from the sharpness of your tone as she looked at you in surprise, taking in how you were squinting your eyes at her in disbelief. "I-I'm sorry, wha-" you cut her stupid mouth off, not even wanting to hear her feigning confusion as the why you would react that way considering the fact that she had just acted like she knew your kids enough on top of having the nerve to talk all intimate-like about your husband. "You think you can talk to me that way about MY kids after everything?" "w-w- what did I say? I-I was just saying that I adore them," Harin tried to defend herself but your anger had made it seem like you doubled in size and you were towering over her. "And who do you think you are to adore my children?" it was obvious that you were no longer holding back your anger and while a part of you dreaded this, another felt glad that you were finally able to stand up for yourself. "I know everything, you slut," you sneered, taking a step closer to get a better look at the way her face fell, "I know you've been screwing my husband behind my back. He confirmed it to me."

By then you had caught the attention of the people around and you were sure that they had heard you but you didn't care. You stood over her, watching as she stuttered, looking as stupid as a fish out of water. "What? Nothing to say now? Nothing about my kids being the mirror image of the man you slept with multiple times and even shamelessly claimed to be your husband at the hospital?" you taunted, "You might have skipped this lesson in whore school, but when you see the wife of the man you're screwing, you blush, avert your eyes, and you scurry away like a roach, got it?" maybe you took it a step too far by humiliating her like that but you couldn't help the satisfied look on your face when she stared at you with reddened cheeks and a very displeased look on her face. The crowd gathering around you didn't make things any better for her because they were starting to whisper among themselves and you recognized some of them as the affluent stay-at-home moms whose husbands fall under the stereotypical cheating trope. So hearing you say all of that, they immediately started to look at Harin with disgust, and a small part of you, the evil part that was created due to hurt, took that as a win.

"Mommy?"

You turned around to see Woohyun standing not too far away from you with Seonghwa standing next to him, looking more surprised than your son who just looked concerned. Before you could react, Woohyun rushed to stand in front of you, glaring at Harin who looked at him with guilt. If you didn't know any better, you would've guessed that she was finally facing another innocent person who got affected by her selfishness. But you weren't as willing to consider her to have any semblance of humanity in her.

"Mommy, can we go home now?" Woohyun asked without looking at you but still keeping his glare on Harin. It was obvious to you that he was trying to distract you, trying to get you out of the uncomfortable situation which made you wonder about how much he knew or even understand. But you didn't want to hash it out in such a public place with him so you nodded and took his hand, automatically causing his attention to shift to you. "Yeah, of course, we can go home now sweetie. Have you gotten all of your things?" you asked in a tone so sweet that it caused Harin's spine to tingle from the palpable difference. It didn't help that once Woohyun turned away, he too, sported an innocent smile, nodding along and showing you his things that he had packed.

Turning around with Woohyun in tow, you shot Harin one last glare before stepping to face Seonghwa with a polite smile, "Is that the file you want to give my son of a bitch husband?" Seonghwa felt his knees buckle from fear but he tried his best to stabilize himself and smile at you, "Y-yeah, Wooyo-" The sudden shift to anger on your face when you heard your husband's name almost made Seonghwa shit his pants but he immediately corrected himself, "I-I mean, t-that son of a-a bitch, needs to review this and get back to me a-at, uh... YOUR earliest convenience?" your curtly nodded and offered him a polite smile whilst covering Woohyun's ears, "Thank you Seonghwa, and I'm sorry to have done this confrontation so publicly. It was not ideal but I was pushed to engage and since it's both out in the open and both it and my husband are hypocritical cowards who will not bring this up themselves, can I trust you to report this case to HR and see to it both of them get disciplinary action because it does break the inappropriate relationship rule and not to mention this could open you up to lawsuits should the bitch expand her reach and screw all of you as well? Thank you." Seonghwa immediately nodded his head and he was about to say something to comfort you but you had started your journey out of the academy, leaving Harin in the middle of the room, being pointed and whispered at by the people around, moms, and random people like other dancers and staff. Some had even fished out their phones and began to type away and Harin could only imagine that it was about her.

Humiliated, Harin was about to run away when a figure stepped out from the crowd and blocked her. She looked up to see Yunho staring at her with a less-than-pleased look on his face which terrified her because he was always the mood-maker.

"I think it would be best if you come with us to HR," he said in a low voice, briefly looking at Seonghwa who was immediately on his phone, looking distressed and frantic as he tried to get HR to immediately gather in the meeting room along with the other people who might be related.

Defeated, Harin hung her head and muttered under her breath, "That fucking bitch," she exhaled shakily which was easily heard by Yunho who clenched his jaw and with a tightly closed fist, hit the wall next to him hard enough that a loud BOOM echoed, surprising the people around who immediately dispersed whilst simultaneously causing Harin to cower.

"Mind your language because as of the moment (y/n) told Seonghwa hyung to report you to HR, anything and everything you said is a testament to your character and action and from what I'm seeing, you should not be calling (y/n) a bitch," he said through gritted teeth, forcing Harin to drop her face in absolute shame and simply followed when Yunho gestured for her to walk down the hallway (in shame).

"If I were you, I'd fire up my LinkedIn again because if you think Wooyoung would fight for you to stay, you'd end up wasting your time, his time, and frankly, everyone's time."

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@atinyreads @strawberry-yeo @soobiverse @vixensss @smally97 @maidens-world @yunhoswrldddd @imcoenffl @nescaffei @miaatiny @showmehoseok @tmingi @wlv-asteria @sunwoosbaby @hyukssunflower @remi-young

@staytiny816 @dearinsaniiity @scentednerdenemy @melanchobtch

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts challenge - thank you for this, friends!

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But how much has he changed?

Chapter summary: Some answers, more questions 😉

WC: ~8.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut, post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, emotional scenes, eventual friends-to-lovers, descriptions of minor injuries, food/eating, mentions of canon-typical torture/experiments.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. Abundant thanks to @the-unforgivenn for beta-ing and playing The Thesaurus Game 😛 This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it or my general one just lemme know in a comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💙

Prev: Prologue Part One

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You wake earlier than they do, shards of sunlight peeking through Steve’s pathetically thin and badly arranged curtains hitting you straight in the face.

You don’t move initially, enjoying the sound of both boys’ soft, rhythmic breaths, grateful they’ve both had the opportunity to rest and sleep.

You use this moment of stillness to allow the events of the previous night to filter through your consciousness. Eddie’s still here. He’s somewhat warmer than he was, and is still breathing. You’ll take all of those as a win.

His arm is still wrapped around your ribs, his chest against your back. During the night, one of his thighs has made its way between yours, and his hips are now pressed up against the swell of your ass.

You suppose that if you look at it objectively, he’s in a pretty good approximation of the Recovery Position. Good for him. Promoting healing, aiding recovery, and all that.

And you suppose that if you look at it subjectively, having the entire length of Eddie’s body squashed against the entire length of yours, and having his leg pressed against you just there, stirs feelings that are inappropriate for you to be having right now. Such as how much you’re enjoying it. How safe you feel. How much you wish there weren’t even these small, thin pieces of fabric separating you from him…

He snuffles behind you, groaning softly, and his arm contracts, pulling you even closer to him. You’d much prefer it was more than just the involuntary tensing of a waking man that’s causing him to do this, but push that thought to the back of your mind.

You slowly turn your head as far as you can, only able to see a little of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair is fuzzy as hell, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

In what you hope is a soft and comforting voice, you ask,

“Morning, big guy. How’re you feeling?”

Eddie’s voice is cracked and broken, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s gravelly and low as he mumbles,

“Mmf. A little sore, but warm. God, it feels so good to be warm…”

His arm clenches around you again, and he pushes his face into the back of your neck.

Trying to cover an unbidden moan, and inject some levity, you reply,

“Well, thank goodness for that, otherwise all of mine and Steve’s efforts last night would’ve been for nothing.”

Eddie shifts, starting to get a sense of where he is and the situation he’s found himself in. It causes Steve to stir behind him and let out a little groan of his own, and you feel Eddie freeze.

Trying to calm him and keep this obviously bizarre situation simple and light, you mumble,

“Yeah, body heat seemed to be the best way to keep you warm. I don’t suppose waking up naked between me and Harrington was on your bucket list, right?”

Eddie’s cheeks don’t exactly flush (going from pale grey to pale pink far too much of a gradient to be entirely achievable right now), but you do notice a little warmth appear in them.

Eddie jests, at least you think he’s jesting, as his grip around you tightens again, stronger this time as his muscles wake up, and he chuckles lightly as he smooshes his face into your hair,

“Well, it's definitely not the worst place I’ve ever woken up.”

This rouses Steve enough that he’s now fully awake, and he seems to remember where he is too. He moves away from Eddie and sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Glancing over, he mumbles,

“Hey, man. So, there’s literally hundreds of things I wanna ask you right now, but I guess I’ll start with, uh, how are you?”

Steve’s face contorts with a mix of incredulity and embarrassment at the utter banality of the question he just asked.

Unfazed, Eddie replies,

“Honestly, dude? I’m not entirely sure…”

He tries to shift his legs to sit up, but realises how enmeshed they are with yours, and inadvertently pushes his thigh up even closer to you.

Steve continues, unable to stop himself.

“What happened? Where have you been? How did you even get here?”

Eddie lets out a long, low exhale.

Finally picking up on how tired Eddie still is, and how tangled your and Eddie’s limbs are, you guess Steve decides he doesn’t want to get into any of that right now and declares,

“Y’know what, I’m gonna go make coffee.”

He grabs some sweats and a crumpled tee, and heads out towards the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Fuck, this is awkward.

After a short pause, you mumble,

“Yeah, I suppose we should get up too. The kids are gonna be beside themselves, I’d prepare yourself for a barrage of questions if I were you.”

Exhaling, you somewhat reluctantly extricate yourself from Eddie’s embrace, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the pile of clothes you’re grateful you had the foresight to put out last night.

Pulling on jeans, a worn t-shirt and a woollen jumper, you sit back down and turn to Eddie, who’s now leaning up against Steve’s battered headboard, sheets bunched around his waist.

You notice his eyes are still sunken and red-rimmed, but he’s lost some of the sallowness that he had last night, and his features are significantly more relaxed.

As he sits up you have the chance to observe his torso properly. He’s thinner, and much paler, than the boy you remember. The odd appearance of his musculature that you could see last night is still abundantly present.

And there are scars. Lots of scars. They vary in appearance and colour, rough slashes and violent starbursts, in silvery white, muted pinks and shades of angry purples and reds. Some look smooth and well-healed, whilst others are raised and jagged. Some transect the inked designs you came to know so well, and it looks like he might’ve lost a nipple.

Realising you’ve been staring, you tear your eyes away and move them instead to Eddie’s face. He looks terrified, like he’s worried you’re going to find him abhorrent and run away screaming.

He starts to reach for the covers, to cover himself, but you lunge forwards and grab one of his hands in yours. You don’t break his gaze as you tell him,

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”

His face softens, but his eyebrows remain pinched and his lips are still pressed tightly together.

Finally looking down as you stroke over his hand with both of yours, you notice that the wounds that you bathed and tended to only a few hours ago are practically healed, only a few areas of redness remaining where there were bleeding gashes and scarlet grazes. Some have almost disappeared.

You decide not to focus on this and concentrate instead on the fact that your friend, your best friend, the one you all thought was dead, is back with you here, right now.

Grasping his hand in both of yours, you murmur,

“However it happened, it’s really, really good to have you back, you know.”

He smiles then, and although it reaches his eyes, it does little to lift the grey pallor of his face.

He brings his other hand over, and as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles he notices the ring on your thumb. He runs a pad over the contours of the skull.

“You- You kept this?”

“Of course! I wear it every day. It helps me remember my best friend.” Your voice gets quiet as you add, unsure whether you’re overstepping.

“It helps keep you close to me.”

You hold each other's gaze for a beat too long, and Eddie’s lips open as if he’s going to say something.

Before he has the chance, a ball of anxiety rises in your throat, and you decide you can’t take the risk of him… what?

Telling you you’re stupid? That it doesn’t mean anything? That he wants his ring back?

You know none of this sounds like anything Eddie would say, but in your fragile, exhausted state you need to protect yourself from the risk of emotional harm, no matter how small.

You remove your hand from his and bend to retrieve the clothes Steve left for him, reasoning with a small smile,

“We don’t want you getting cold again, right?”

Eddie starts to dress, grunting a little as his limbs start working again. He only has time to pull on the worn sweatshirt when the door bursts open and the kids rush in. Dustin first, swiftly followed by Mike and Lucas, whilst Will and Jane hang back in the doorway.

The three teens leap, grinning, onto Steve’s bed, whooping and hollering and rolling around. They’re full of questions and theories and tales of what they’ve been doing whilst he’s been gone, all talking over one another.

Whilst Eddie is smiling and laughing and you can tell he’s buoyed by their love and exuberance, you also know he still needs to recover from last night, let alone whatever else he might have been through these past few weeks. So after a few minutes you shoo them out, instructing them to go help Steve make breakfast.

Dustin’s the last to leave, pausing in the doorway as he turns back, running his hand down his cheek and saying, with an infinitely adoring expression on his face,

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. It’s so good to have you back.”

They share friendly smiles before Dustin turns on his heel and follows the others, his voice decreasing in volume as he heads down the hallway yelling,

“I’m on toast duty today! You guys ate all the good peanut butter last time…”

You both snicker at their antics, Eddie shaking his head a little.

You want to say more, but settle for,

“They missed you. We all did.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows and rolls his lips inwards into a tight-lipped smile, and you sense that he’s just as emotional as you all are.

He continues dressing, and you’re relieved the kids didn’t see Eddie’s scars, for all their sakes. You’re not sure whether they’re ready to revisit what happened in the Upside Down, and you don't want Eddie’s first day back with you all to involve him having to uncomfortably explain where they all came from.

He dons the rest of the unfamiliar clothing, and eventually stands, facing you. He spreads his arms wide and pulls a goofy face, raising his eyebrows high and flattening his mouth into a thin line, knowing how unlike ‘him’ he must look right now.

You never imagined you’d ever see your favourite black-loving metalhead in an oversized heather grey Hawkins Athletic sweatshirt, worn navy sweatpants and fluffy white sports socks, but needs must, and at least it’s all clean and he’s staying warm.

There’s a crash in the kitchen, startling both of you, but it prompts you to suggest,

“Come on, let’s go see what chaos those guys are causing.”

You direct him to the front of the house, and as Eddie shuffles into the kitchen all eyes turn to him. You see the kids take in his fluffy hair and new garb. He notices and, preemptively gesturing to himself and in a very close approximation of his Dungeon Master voice, says,

“If anyone says anything about this, I swear I will kill you. Got it?”

Mike and Lucas try to act like they weren’t even looking, and Dustin raises his hands in supplication. Jane laughs at the boys’ responses and Will smirks at the shenanigans, and you’re certain he and Eddie are going to get along just fine.

The kids have made everyone a simple breakfast of boiled eggs, toast and fresh oatmeal and they bring it to the large farmhouse-style table as everyone gets situated. Craving his proximity, you take the chair next to Eddie. Steve’s made a large pot of hot coffee, which is swiftly devoured by the four adults and almost instantly requires replenishment.

The kids want to fill Eddie in on, well, everything. Over breakfast there’s much chatter about what’s been happening in town, how the three of you ended up staying here, how kind and supportive Wayne and Owens have been, even a somewhat discombobulating discussion of what Eddie’s funeral was like. Plus there’s tales from the boys about D&D and stuff that’s important to the teens, most of which you zone out of.

Eddie is also properly introduced to the two he doesn’t know. He greets Will with a broad smile and claps both his hands around the boy’s slender one, a symbolic gesture full of characteristic Eddie warmth, welcoming another sheep even though this particular one has known the others for many years.

You don’t think anyone else notices, but you don’t miss the moment of extended eye contact and tiny nods that are exchanged between him and Jane, as they are introduced and shake hands.

Eddie seems to have a good appetite, devouring four warm, runny-yolked eggs, three slices of toast slathered with butter and jelly, and two large bowls of oatmeal with honey and syrup in rapid succession.

There’s some syrup on his chin when he’s finished. You want to clean it off with your thumb and suck it into your mouth, but you resist the urge.

The food cheers him, even seems to put a little colour in Eddie’s cheeks. Well, perhaps not colour exactly, but a move from grey to white is certainly progress. It’s hardly Cordon Bleu cuisine, but Eddie’s hoovered it up like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. You wonder what he’s been surviving on all this time to make such simple stuff seem so luxurious.

Coffee mugs are refreshed, the table is cleared, and there follows a semi-formal exchange of the personal items of Eddie’s that are in the cabin. Lucas returns his pocket knife, which Eddie thanks him for with a bro handshake and a half-hug, and Dustin gets down on one knee and presents him with his wallet chain on outstretched hands, as if he’s presenting a weapon or battle trophy to his commander. Eddie ruffles his hair and brings him in for a crushing bear hug.

Robin and Steve return his crucifix and boar’s head rings, which he dons, and you can’t help noticing that they’re slightly looser than they used to be. You’re grateful nobody questions why you don’t return the skull ring to him, or seems to notice the knowing glance and small smile that he gives you.

Dishes are cleaned and yet more coffee is brewed, and you head to the utility room to see how Eddie’s clothes are doing in the (noisy, and possibly unsafe) drier. As you return there’s a lull in the conversation.

Ever the direct one, Robin can’t stand the not knowing any longer, and as Steve pours the next round of coffees she blurts,

“So, what the fuck happened? We thought you were dead. You were dead. They fucking buried you!”

The kitchen falls silent for a moment, nobody sure how much Eddie wants to divulge or relive.

He wraps his palms around his steaming mug, and takes a long, slow, deep breath in and out before he starts talking.

“I don’t remember much after that night with the, uh, Demobats. I kinda remember being jostled into a van, or a military-type vehicle maybe? And tubes, bright lights, people shouting…

“The next thing I know, I’m in some kind of lab, a poky room with a tiny cot and metal furniture, and people coming in at all hours to prod at me and stick me with needles. They did all sorts of tests and injected me with shit, and they wouldn’t tell me what any of it was.

“I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that I can’t remember a lot of detail. It’s mostly just pain, agony, and being either chained or locked up. And screaming, so much screaming... Whether that was me or the others, I don’t know.”

You interject,

“There- There were others?”

He nods slowly.

“Yeah, definitely more than just me. I have no idea how many, who they were, what happened to them...”

His hands start trembling, and he lets go of the mug that’s started to shake in his grip, quickly putting his hands in his lap.

“I think the injections they were giving me were concoctions made from the… things they found… down there.

“Owens visited me a couple of times. He said he didn’t like what was being done to me but he wasn’t able to change anything. The last time I saw him he told me he was being transferred to a different site and didn’t think he’d be able to visit again, but he wanted me to know there was someone on his side.”

There’s a brief pause before he continues,

“The last, uhh, experiment was the worst-”

Eddie screws up his face and clenches his teeth at the memory, and balls up one fist, bringing it up to his pursed lips. He squeezes his eyes closed, and a tear appears at the corner of one eye.

You don’t know whether it’s the right thing to do, but you grab his other hand under the table, hoping it’ll give him comfort but fully expecting him to flinch away.

He doesn’t, and his hand clamps around yours in a fierce grip, almost crushing it.

Voice trembling and breaking, he continues.

“It was- Jesus H Christ- it was like liquid fucking fire. All I remember was feeling like they’d injected me with molten lava, and then there was so much shouting, and hands holding me down, and then everything went black...”

He pauses, and nobody else speaks.

Steve swallows, the tap drips into the sink and Robin’s rings clink softly against her coffee mug as she turns it anxiously.

“And then… And then the next thing I remember is coming to, and feeling cold, so- so fucking cold. And darkness, absolute darkness. And I was so scared, and I just started scraping and scratching at whatever was over me, and just kept scrabbling and digging until… there wasn’t anything over me anymore.”

You’re all stunned.

Someone says a quiet ‘fuck’, and you think you hear a sob, perhaps from Dustin.

Steve remains silent but runs a hand through his hair, palm coming to rest over his mouth, and Robin mutters a soft,

“Shit, Eddie.”

You all realise that Eddie wasn’t lying on a slab at all for these past two months, but was being experimented on, and it takes a long moment to sink in.

Eventually, Eddie says,

“Fuck. They really buried me, huh?”

To illustrate his point and as an attempt to inject some humour into the moment, he loosely combs his fingers through his fluffy locks and asks, “When I got here, did I have stuff in my hair?”

There are a few chuckles, and someone throws a balled up paper napkin at him.

There’s another short pause where nobody says anything, but then it’s like a dam breaks and everyone starts talking at once. Robin and Steve make comparisons with the Russians, the kids offer D&D analogies and half-baked scientific theories, and people ask Will and Jane what they think.

For the rest of the morning much discussion ensues, as well as the consumption of store-brand cookies and even more coffee, and you all try to fill in the blanks. Whilst some of the kids interject with ideas and suggestions, others sit quietly, mostly listening. You wonder quite how much secondhand trauma this is going to cause all of them.

As a group you eventually surmise that some shadowy branch of the military was battering Eddie and the others with all sorts of tests, and injecting them with unknown substances, goals unknown and refusing to tell anyone what they were.

Owens clearly never agreed with their approach, and it sounds like he tried to distance himself as much as possible.

The military finally took their experiments too far. Thinking they’d killed him, they eventually released Eddie’s body to his only family, Wayne, and allowed him to be buried.

Unbeknownst to them, their final experiment was the most successful, it just took longer to manifest than the others. Weeks, in fact. Just long enough for the scientists (if you could even call them that) to lose any expectation of a recovery, and for Owens and Wayne to organise a funeral.

Eddie had awoken, dazed, trapped and freezing and with no idea where he was, and had somehow managed to smash the lid of his coffin and scramble his way to the surface. On a rainy night, miles from anywhere.

Finally, Mike is the first to ask the question you think most of you have been contemplating.

“Dude, how did you even find us?”

At particularly painful points in his oration, Eddie has looked to you, seemingly finding comfort in your face, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies,

“Honestly? I don’t really know. I just had this… feeling… that I needed to come in this direction. And the closer I got, the more certain I was that this is where I’d find you.” Hurriedly, he looks around the rest of the group and adds, “Find you all.”

He carefully lays the hand not holding yours flat onto the table, and, eyes fixed on the faded floral tablecloth, he chokes back a sob as he asks a question that he’s clearly been holding back.

“Why didn’t anyone- Why didn’t you come find me?”

Robin grabs his hand across the table, wrapping it in both of hers, holding it tightly. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“W-we didn’t know! They didn’t tell us anything about any lab. We thought you were dead. Eddie, that first night? They told us you’d died!”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and you see tears start to slowly run down her cheeks.

Eddie chokes, and his eyes lift to the ceiling.

Dustin’s the first to move as he scrapes his chair back and sprints around to Eddie, enveloping his shoulders and neck in a clumsy but aggressively enthusiastic hug as he mumbles into his friend’s shoulder,

“But you’re not dead. You’re not. You’re here, with us, now. You’re back, Eddie, you’re back...”

Lucas stands too, ruffling Eddie’s hair and half-hugging the top of his head with one arm, leaning his cheek against Eddie’s curls, and you lean into Eddie, placing your forehead against the side of his bicep.

Steve turns from where he’s been brewing even more coffee, and moves to place his hand on a patch of shoulder not covered by Dustin or Lucas, patting softly. As he turns back to the stove he comments,

“Yeah, man. D’you really think we wouldn’t’ve come got you? Fuck those guys and all their crappy experiments. No one does that to a member of The Party.”

You simultaneously feel Eddie’s grip on your hand tighten, and the rest of his body relax. Many of you are crying, the sleeves of Eddie’s sweater darkening in patches from the wet plops of Dustin’s tears.

Will and Jane are affected too, and you see their faces soften as they clasp each other's hands under the table.

Eddie’s breath deepens as he absorbs the love and affection of his friends. You guess he’s not used to this much positive attention, and has clearly received even less over the last few weeks.

You all sit in silence for a few long moments, allowing all this new information to sink in and emotions to settle.

Eventually the noise of the stove and the clattering of coffee supplies, together with a strong gust of wind and the increased pattering of leaves against the window, brings you all back to the room.

Eddie seems to have processed everything faster than the rest of you, his emotions shifting, and as Steve pours more coffee he becomes agitated, slamming his fists on the table, startling all of you with the ferocity of his movements.

You guess he’s angry not only at the testing he underwent, but that they lied to all of you, and let him feel hopeless, like nobody cared.

The kids move back as he stands and starts pacing, running his hands through his already-frizzy hair and shaking his head.

“FUCK! Those bastards! Not only did they use me as some kind of twisted lab rat, but they didn’t even tell you guys I was alive? And they let me think that none of you cared enough to come find me, visit me, get me out? GODDAMMIT!”

He slams a palm into the doorframe, and you all jump a little.

Turning back to the room, Eddie notices the effect he’s having on everyone, and, rubbing the back of his neck, says,

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk…”

He moves towards the back door, the expanse of the disused field behind the cabin seemingly the ideal place for him to get his head together.

But, spying the large axe leaning against the frame, he has a better idea.

“Hey, uh, do you guys have, like, logs ‘n’ shit that need chopping? I really need to, um, work through some stuff. Besides, it’s probably the least I can do, given how much heat and hot water I’ve already cost you all.”

He gives a sheepish snort and brings his hand to his face again.

It’s you who speaks first.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I mean, it’s been a stressful few days. Are you okay to be doing something so… physical?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m feeling a little… pent up. Could do with working some of it off, y’know?”

You nod, figuring all of you are going to need different ways to process this whole bizarre and unsettling situation.

Dustin and Mike find some old tan workboots in a closet, presumably left by the previous owner. They don’t fit perfectly, and it looks like something may have nested in one of them at some point, but they’ll do for now. Eddie pulls them on over his loaned sweats and socks, leaving them unlaced.

Robin offers him his leather jacket. She’s obviously had a go at cleaning off as much of the mud as she can, but you can all tell it’s never going to be quite the same. At least it’s dry now, and Eddie takes it gratefully.

He grabs the old axe and the small hatchet that you use to chop kindling, unlocks the back door and steps outside, closing it behind him.

Dustin wants to go out to him, but Robin grabs him and holds him in a tight hug, explaining that he needs some time to process stuff.

The others give him space, some staying at the kitchen table to process their thoughts, others retreating to the living room and diverting their thoughts with the crackling cartoons that break through the terrible TV signal.

You choose to keep an eye on Eddie, staying back a little from the back door so as not to alarm him, but keeping him within your eye line.

You see Eddie pace a little, muttering to himself, then he shakes his head as if to clear it.

He turns to the log pile and hefts the axe a couple of times, getting the feel of it. He lifts a couple of modestly sized logs onto the stump, wielding the axe above his head and splitting them easily. Almost… effortlessly.

He chops a few more, flinging them into a pile with ease, then moves to lift a few larger ones, breezing through them with the same ‘hot knife through butter’ nonchalance.

It’s the most physical activity you’ve ever seen him do, aside from lifting the odd amp or two, which always left him puffed out. But he’s sailing through the woodpile with barely any exertion.

You can see he’s still processing the contents of your morning, as his features screw up occasionally and grumbled words and what are probably profanities spill from his lips.

As he hefts the axe through the tough logs you can see his eyes are getting redder, and his skin appears paler. You can’t see his body, but the tendons on his hands and neck are popping starkly underneath his translucent skin. And, the wind has picked up considerably since he’s been outside, whipping loose leaves and twigs around the cabin just like it did last night.

Eventually, he starts on the biggest, gnarliest logs. The ones you guys would only attempt when you really, really needed the firewood.

You hear grunts, muffled by the back door, as he works the tougher wood.

The axe gets stuck partway through a particularly thick log, and with an animalistic grunt Eddie yanks the blade from it. Easily lifting the log in his arms, he notches his long fingers into the groove and, in a move that startles you, he rips it into two pieces with his bare hands.

By the back door you suppress a gasp, your hand flying across your mouth and your eyes going wide. You’re not sure whether you should go to him, try to comfort him, or leave him to work through this in whatever way he needs to.

You don’t get the chance to decide, as he finally gets to a particularly old and knotty log that none of you have been able to get anywhere close to splitting. As Eddie slams the axe down into it with a ferocity you didn’t think was possible, he gets it far further than any of you have so far, but again, the blade gets stuck.

The wind picks up even more, as Eddie picks up the axe, log attached, and heaves it around his head, sending it spinning across the back field as he lets out a loud, feral and painful-sounding yell.

Breathing deep for a couple of moments, he runs a hand down his face and begins to trudge across the bumpy earth to retrieve it, coping easily with the rough and uneven ground of the ploughed field and his ill-fitting boots. You can see he’s still yelling expletives and occasionally waving his arms and shouting up into the sky.

The distance that he’s managed to throw the axe is substantial enough that he shrinks in your field of vision by the time he reaches it. You can no longer make out his expression, but as he comes to a halt you do see him bend over and place his hands on his knees, watching his back heave as he takes a few more deep, steadying breaths.

He lifts the axe and heaves both it and the attached heavy log easily over his shoulder with one hand. You consider that you’ve never seen him lift anything with such ease, save maybe his leather jacket, flung over his back, dangling it from one finger on a hot day.

As he turns and starts making his way back to the house, you notice that the wind has started to die down and is whipping less of Eddie’s hair around his face, and leaves and twigs begin to fall to the ground.

You hadn’t realised Jane had come to join you at the back door. Despite not directly knowing Eddie before, she says, in her characteristically deadpan voice, “He is… different now. Isn’t he?”

You purse your lips and nod, quick and small, and find it remarkable that this seemingly awkward young woman, who’s endured so much at the hands of so many, has developed such insight and tenderness.

After removing the axe from the gnarly chunk of wood and placing it by the back door, Eddie spends a few minutes arranging the logs he’s split into neat piles beneath the small shelter. The skin around his eyes is less red now, and his general demeanour seems more relaxed, controlled. Perhaps this has helped after all.

He takes a couple of breaths and composes himself before he heads back towards the door, holding the axe in one hand and a stack of logs atop his other arm.

Bashful, and conscious that you’d rather he didn’t know that you’ve been watching him the entire time, you take a few steps backwards and make like you’re just now coming to the door, opening it for him with a broad smile and directing him to the place in the living room where you store the wood for the fire, thanking him for his efforts.

As he places the last of the wood and starts to take off his jacket, you notice that his hands are again torn and bloody, splinters sticking out every which way and an angry-looking blister on one palm.

You assume that he’s reopened his wounds from last night, but the positions and patterns don’t match up. Everything from last night has almost completely healed, and these are all new.

Regardless of the peculiarities, they need attention, so you instruct him,

“Come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You send him to your bedroom as you grab some washcloths, a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

You sit him up against your headboard, setting up your supplies on the comforter. Figuring it’s the most practical position for you to be in, you straddle his knees and begin dabbing at his cut and splintered hands with antiseptic. Realising there’s too much debris in the way, and wincing at the sheer size and quantity of them, you grab some tweezers, removing the splinters of various sizes that have embedded into his fingers and palms.

As you swap back to using the wet cloths and begin cleaning the blood from his skin, you’re perhaps less surprised than you should be to find that the new injuries have already stopped bleeding, and some of the smaller ones even appear to be closing up, apparently heading the same way as the cuts on his face and feet from whatever happened last night.

You work quietly for a few moments before your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What was that? Outside, just now? You seem…”

“Different? Yeah, I know… Don’t ask me how it happened, but I feel different too. Stronger, faster…”

He glances at you through his bangs.

“Less in control…”

His brow is furrowed as he holds your gaze, and you guess he’s waiting for you to back off. You don’t.

“I guess they… changed me.”

You move to touch his chin gently with one hand, wanting to reassure him. You realise that by telling him this you’re going to reveal that you were watching him, but you forge ahead anyway.

“Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that whatever it is that I just saw wasn’t a little… unnerving. But I’ve never felt unsafe around you. Quite the opposite, in fact. And that hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

He refuses to meet your gaze, and twists his battered hands together in his lap, seemingly fighting with himself.

“I should go. Leave you guys. You’re not safe with me here.”

A vice grip seizes your chest. All logic leaves you, and the only thing you can think about is never letting him go again.

“Eddie, no!”

“I don’t really know what their plan was, but I’m guessing they were trying to make me into a super soldier, or something. They’re not gonna stop. As soon as they find out what happened at the cemetery, they’re gonna try to find me. And if I could find you, they can find me.”

A ball of anxiety forms in you. You can’t let him go. You just can’t.

“I thought you were dead, we all did. I’ve only just found you again, after I thought I’d lost you forever. Please don’t say you’re going to leave?”

Your voice cracks and you swallow back a sob. You lurch forward and grip both of his hands with all the strength you have left, not caring that you’re getting his blood on you, and might even be hurting him.

If Eddie feels any pain, he doesn't flinch. But the sight of you falling to pieces in front of him, because of him, is apparently something he can’t bear.

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll stay tonight, at least. Then we’ll try to figure something out. Maybe contact Owens, see if he knows anything. Alright?”

He raises his head and looks into your eyes now, as you snuffle a little and manage a small smile. He’s yours for tonight, at least.

No, not exactly yours, you have to remind yourself. He’s safe, with all of you, for tonight, at least.

Something else decides to jostle for prominence in your mind, and you ask him, quietly,

“How did you find us? Really. How did you know where to go?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before shifting slightly, and he returns the grip on your hands.

You think you hear a little trepidation in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t know if this is going to sound crazy, but… what doesn’t these days, right? It’s like- Even before… everything, it’s like every time I left you I left a part of my soul with you. And… it would stay with you all the time we were apart. And then whenever I was with you I’d find it again. That’s how I found you. It was like I was searching for a piece of myself, and somehow I just knew where to find it.”

He goes quiet, dropping his chin to his chest again.

His words play on a loop in your head. Even before… I left a part of my soul with you… and whenever I was with you I’d find it...

You shift forwards even more, closing the gap between you, and the movement makes you become acutely aware of your proximity. You become conscious of the feel of his firm thighs between yours, how good it feels. How, for the second time in less than twenty four hours, you wish there weren’t these thin pieces of fabric between you.

Something sparks in your chest: Could he feel the same way as you?

Your voice trembles as you practically beg him,

“I don't want you ever to leave, Eddie. I don’t want us to ever be apart, and always be there for each other. I don’t want you to ever be missing a part of your soul again. I want to be with you, always.”

Eddie huffs out a sob of his own, lifting your hands to his and nuzzling his face into your knuckles. He takes one and slowly turns his head until his round nose connects with your curled fingers. And then, ever so slowly, he connects his lips with the soft, sensitive skin on your palm.

Tentatively, he moves a little and purses them against the inside of your wrist, lightly pressing them there, inhaling deeply and his breath shuddering slightly as he inhales your scent.

You notice both of your breathing has quickened. You can feel Eddie’s as it passes over your skin, and you feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Eddie looks over at you. His body may have changed in myriad ways, but his eyes remain the same. They’re still the huge, beautiful, warm pools of cacao that have drawn you in since the moment you met. It’s the tether that makes you realise that no matter how else he might’ve changed, deep down he’s still Eddie. Your Eddie.

You move your other hand, gently taking his wrist, and move his free hand up to your face. You close your eyes as you softly kiss his palm, and then move his hand to cup your cheek.

Gently, almost imperceptibly, Eddie moves his thumb and touches it to the very corner of your mouth. You feel a heat in your belly and you turn your head towards it, skimming it over your lips.

Your eyes flick between his chocolate orbs as Eddie bends his thumb ever so slightly. The pad of it pulls at the plush of your lower lip a tiny amount, but it’s enough to create a gap.

Without thinking you start to open your jaw, and he begins to move forwards. As he pushes into your waiting mouth all you can think about is tasting him, and your tongue starts to move. Just as the tip of it is about to make contact with Eddie’s thumb, there’s a jarring yell.

“Hey, everybody! Grub’s up!”

You pull apart with a start, both inhaling sharply.

It’s Robin, calling from the kitchen. Of course you’re grateful that the mums never allow the kids to arrive empty handed, but a large part of you wishes that you and Eddie could’ve had just a little more time to explore… whatever this is.

You let out nervous chuckles as you smile softly at one another, and hold each other’s gaze for probably little longer than is strictly necessary before you gather up the medical supplies and you both stand.

You can’t help but take Eddie’s hand in yours as you pull him towards the kitchen, encouraging him to follow lest he misses out on the delicacy that is Dustin’s mom’s substantial contribution.

“C’mon, Claudia’s lasagnas are totally legendary. It may sound simple, but combined with Mrs Sinclair’s recipe for garlic bread, I promise you, you’re about to have a near-spiritual culinary experience.”

Still feeling the heat of what just occurred in your room you busy yourself with packing away the first aid kit, and then elect to sit across the table from Eddie. You convince yourself that you’re not avoiding him, simply allowing the kids the chance to get close to him for a little while.

As if reading your mind, Dustin immediately plants himself in the chair next to Eddie, swiftly followed by Mike on his other side. Lucas sits next to Dustin, and Will slides in next to Mike. They chatter excitedly about campaigns and creatures and characters, and to see Eddie flanked by his adoring sheep brings a different kind of warmth to your chest.

The conversation remains light over dinner. Jokes are cracked, teasing occurs, and you’re pleased everyone’s getting a break from the tension and horrors.

The culinary delights are as good as you’d promised, and Eddie hums and moans at the delicious bounty before him. He remains pale, but he’s definitely regained some strength, vigour.

He glances over at you after taking an especially large mouthful of the meaty dish, and after you stop giggling at his uncouth antics he grins at you, tomato sauce staining his lips and the sides of his mouth, confirming,

“You’re right, this is goddamn heavenly!”

At another point he takes a particularly large bite of some soaked bread, and herb-flecked garlic butter oozes all over his thumb. Your eyes are drawn to it as he brings it to his mouth and presses it between his plump lips, and your eyes connect across the table as he sucks it off, twisting the digit and temporarily giving himself the most salacious pout. He spots you looking, and leaves his thumb in his mouth for what you consider is altogether too long before pulling it out with a pop. You gulp audibly and shift in your seat, grateful for the general clamour disguising your arousal.

You haven’t discussed as a group whether or where Eddie’s going to stay, though it seems to be unspoken between all of you that of course he’s going to remain here until you can all figure out what to do next. You decide not to raise the earlier conversation you had about him possibly leaving.

Dustin’s the first to broach the subject, asking,

“So, where’re you sleeping tonight, Eddie? You wanna come bunk with us in the warmest room in the house?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, attempting to extol the virtues of the open fire. His excitement is palpable, and you envy the optimism of youth that can make even the least appealing flat surfaces sound like an enticing bedspace.

You interject on Eddie’s behalf, suggesting,

“Hey guys, I know it would be the coolest sleepover ever, but I think Eddie might’ve earned the luxury of an actual bedroom after what he’s been through recently, don’t you think?”

Dustin looks crestfallen, but recovers quickly, agreeing with an only slightly pouty,

“I suppoooooose…”

Without looking at the others, you turn to Eddie and proffer,

“You’ll stay in my room, right?”

Eddie nods, his curls bouncing, as he agrees, perhaps a little too quickly,

“Of course, yep, that sounds… entirely fine.”

You miss how Robin and Steve glance at each other, Steve raising an eyebrow as Robin smirks at him.

There’s a quick clean up as dishes are done and pans are left to soak. Craving normalcy, you pile into the small living room and manage to make it through about two thirds of another of Keith’s loaned films before blinks get longer, eyes start to close and heads start to loll.

Robin chivvies the teens to get their sleeping bags set up, and there’s the typical grousing and bickering as everyone tries to use the bathroom at the same time. You think at one point three of the boys are trying to use the sink simultaneously, jostling each other and spitting far too enthusiastically in an effort to spray their compatriots. It’s a small nugget of frivolity that makes you consider the possibility that you might just all be okay.

Steve moves the small electric heater from his room back to yours, and you retrieve Eddie’s clothes from the drier. He slips into his Hellfire shirt and clean boxers as you change into your Garfield nightshirt, and then starts to grab blankets from beside you.

Confused, you question,

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh, uh… I just thought I’d sleep on the floor, y’know, give you the bed.”

You’re aghast.

“Don't be silly, Eddie. There’s plenty of room. Sleep up here, please? I mean, it’s not like we never have before. All those nights in the trailer when I got too baked to make it home, or you got too baked to drive me, or both…”

You both chuckle at the fond memory. You wonder whether you’ll ever let on that sometimes you were faking it, or deliberately took too many drags from the last blunt, just so you could spend the night with him, in his bed.

He throws the blankets back over and, smiling, climbs in beside you.

Turning off your bedside light, the room becomes bathed in the low, pale blue glow of the moonlight.

You both lie on your backs, staring at the ceiling. Somehow it’s easier to talk like this.

Thumbing the skull ring on your hand, you want to talk about the… other thing that happened, but have no idea how to bring it up.

As you’re ruminating, Eddie beats you to it.

“I hope it wasn’t weird? Earlier, I mean. It was…”

Your thighs clench a minuscule amount as you recall the feel of him between them, and the lightest brush of your lips on various parts of each other, and you finish his sentence for him.

“Nice. It was nice.”

Shit. It was so much more than nice, you think to yourself.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, or anything. I guess I’m just a little touch-starved, y’know…?”

“I don’t. Honestly, I’m just glad to be close to you again. And if I made you feel uncomfortable then I’m really sorry…”

You can tell by the minor shifts in the covers and from his general demeanour that Eddie’s fidgeting with his hands.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

There’s another pause, and Eddie huffs out another small breath before he continues,

“Listen, I know the past twenty-four hours has basically been weirdness personified, and I don’t want to make it even weirder, but…can I… maybe… hold you?”

“I think weird is probably the understatement of the century, but it’s okay. And… I think I’d like that.”

You shift closer to one another under the covers, and you turn onto your side as Eddie moves himself to spoon behind you in an echo of your position last night.

He tentatively drapes his arm over you. He feels warmer than when you last did this, and more relaxed, and you press slightly backwards towards him as much as you dare, letting out a heavy, relaxed sigh.

You take Eddie’s hand in yours, threading your fingers with his, running yours over and between his digits and turning his forelimb this way and that. He hums into your hair and lets you move his arm however you like.

But you stop when you glance down in the dim light and spot a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist that you’ve not seen before. It’s definitely new. You know this because you’ve spent hours tracing over every inch of his inked skin, fantasising about following the images with more than just your eyes, imagining using your fingers, your hands, your lips, your tongue…

But this one’s not like any of his others. This one is small and simple, and looks like the outlines of two soft-cornered rectangles with a blocky W between them. It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at, realising it looks a lot like one you’ve seen before. She’s had it covered with a delicate floral design (having connections in government really can get you anything, including underage ink), but you remember what it looked like.

Jane’s was a rectangle stacked on top of two horizontal lines, but when you looked at it from a different angle it became numbers: 011.

Looking at Eddie’s, you move the position of his arm. It turns the image a little, suddenly giving it more meaning, as you see it depicts a different number: 030.

Quietly, you croak,

“Eddie, what’s thi-?”

You don’t have a chance to process what any of it could mean as Eddie suddenly tenses, his head lifted from the pillows and his face flicking towards the window and back to you.

His brow furrows as he murmurs,

“Do you hear that?”

You strain your ears and hear nothing at first. But then, gradually, and from far away, you hear the disturbingly familiar sounds of flapping, shuffling and screeching.

Goosebumps appear on your arms and the back of your neck as you abruptly recall the only things you know of that make sounds like these:

Creatures from the Upside Down…

Prev: Prologue Part One

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Thanks so much for reading!

I really hope you enjoyed this part. The next one will probably be the last, and the taglist is open (as is my general one), just say the word, friend 🙂

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A/N 2: Did anyone spot the LOTR, Captain America and/or Make Up references? 🧝‍♂️🪓👍 (Also, completely by accident, AQPDO too 😜, and ETA: this and THIS 🫠)

Taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @idkitsem @em0220 @kookygranger @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn @b3lladoonna @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @amandahobblepot @daisy-munson @sheneedsrocknroll92 @maedesculpaeusoubi @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @kellsck @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @babydollface1165

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AN: Source for tarot reading

Transcript under the cut

Morgan: Ever done this before?

Nancy: Can’t say that I have.

Morgan: Are you as put off about this as that other bible thumper?

Nancy: [rolls eyes] We’re not all the same. I’m more than my faith.

Morgan: I don’t doubt that. I’m sure there’s many layers to you. Where are you from?

Nancy: Brindleton Bay.

Morgan: Really, I’m from Portridge, a small town south of the Bay. Originally.

Nancy: Yeah? So, how did you end up a Fyres?

Morgan: Great question. My mom was his secretary. Super scandalous shit, which would explain while the Royal Barbie hates my guts. He’s not a bad step dad though. Hell of lot better than my actual dad. So, your parents-

Nancy: Isn’t the probing developing a bias or something?

Morgan: Just a little small talk. So, is there a question you want answered? Perhaps, a question about your past, your present or your future?

Nancy: I-

Nancy Narrates: [I want to get forget my past. I want to survive my present. I want to escape my future. Could there really be an answer for all that in those cards]

Nancy: I don’t know...

Morgan: That’s ok. You intention will guide us.

Morgan: Pick three cards that call to you. Based on the three, we will see what the cards have to say about your past, present and future.

Nancy: And you believe in this?

Morgan: We believe what we believe in, right? You have your three?

Nancy: I think so..

Morgan: Let’s take a look.

Morgan: Your past—the Upright Fool. Innocence. Curorsity. Something new and exciting—perhaps a first love in your youth that swept you off your feet?

Nancy Narrates: [Already I hated this...]

Morgan: Your present- the Reversed Star. Insecurity. Self doubt. A loss of faith. Interesting. Perhaps a struggle with one’s own faith? Are you having any doubts, Nancy? About yourself? About your God?

Morgan: Your future- the Upright Devil. Lust. Obsession. Temptation. Could be for the material things of life, or maybe a desire of the flesh.

Nancy: [clears throat] That all seems incredibly vague.

Morgan: [grins] Does it? Your poker face could use some work. Let me ask you something. Who exactly did I remind you of? Someone from your past?

Morgan: Your silence is very telling. I have a real gift for reading people.

Nancy: I’m sure you believe you do.

Morgan: [laughs] I really do!

Morgan: Tightly wound, fidgeter. You bite the hell out of your nails, right at the skin on the tips of your fingers, unconsciously. You pick at it until it bleeds. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to your own body. The pain, that is.

Morgan: Right?

Geoffrey: You made it! And making friends! Sorry, am I interrupting girl talk?

Morgan: It’s cool, boy wonder. Want me to do your reading?

Geoffrey: Are you kidding? Of course I do!

Nancy: Actually, I think I want to g-

Geoffrey: Really quick, Nance, then I’ll walk you to your dorm!

Geoffrey: Upright Death for my future sounds kind of scary when you think about it, huh? She said it could mean profound change. Sounds promising.

Nancy: [tsks] That could mean literally anything. That whole practice strives on vagueness. You can never be wrong if you’re bound to be right.

Geoffrey: Yeah, but it’s about how you perceive it, right? It’s unique. She did yours, didn’t she? What did yours say?

Nancy: Yeah, I um, don’t remember.

Geoffrey: Maybe you can ask her again. You two seem to hit it off.

Nancy: [huffs] Please. I am not going back to that shabby bar. She’s a sham. Those cards mean nothing. It’s stupid.

Geoffrey: [sighs]

Nancy: What?

Geoffrey: [blows raspberries]

Nancy Narrates: [Truth was, I was more curious than anything]

Nancy: So. Those cards. Could they...I don’t know- tell me something that could happen in a week? Like if I asked if I’ll pass my Statistics exam?

Nancy Narrates: [I was completely captivated by this otherworldly experience, whether I’d admit it outloud or not]

Nancy Narrates: [and Morgan was always happy to indulge me]

Nancy: [whispers] So I past my exam. How does this even work? I mean, how could they know? The cards. Could you do another reading after the debate?

Nancy Narrates: [But of all the questions I did ask, there was one that burned inside me more]

[heavy metal spills into the hallway]

Morgan: [startled] Nancy?

Nancy: Is this a bad time? I know it’s late...I can come back another time. I just have so much on my mind and I can’t sleep.

Morgan: You want another reading?

Nancy: Is that ok?

Morgan: Of course it is, Nancy. Come in.

Morgan: Sorry for all the smoke. I can open a window.

Knox: Babe, who’s this? It’s not my birthday.

Morgan: [smirks] Want me to get rid of him? I can.

Knox: Hey! I’ll be quiet! Won’t even know I’m here.

Nancy: I don’t mind. I just had a question.

Nancy: Could you do a reading for someone else, even if they’re not here?

Morgan: [hums] Not really...not without their permission or their intention. Who is this person to you?

Nancy: [looks away] Someone from my past. Someone I need to forget but- I can’t.

Morgan: Did this person hurt you?

Nancy: [shakes head] If anything, I hurt them. I ruined them with my... [lowly] um, perversions. I just need to know if they’re ok. If they hate me for it.

Morgan: [softly] I see... Here’s what we’ll do. Just like before, I’ll do a three card spread.

Morgan: Set your intention. Clear your mind. Ask your question. The first card is ‘you’. The middle card is ‘them’. The third card is the relationship.

Nancy Narrates: [‘Vanessa, do you hate me?’ ‘Do you blame me?’ ‘Do you regret loving me?’ ‘Do you know that I never stopped loving you?’]

Nancy Narrates: [‘Do you know that I’m sorry?’ ‘Do you know that I miss you?’ ‘Do you know that I need you?’]

Morgan: [exhales] It says... that you are a filled with love, Nancy, even though the world around you wants to drain you of it. There’s just too much of it inside of you and your friend-

Nancy: [weakly] Vanessa.

Morgan: [smiles] Vanessa. She loves you all the same. She may be experiencing her own hurt in this world, but having loved you keeps her strong. You two brought something bright and beautiful into each other’s lives.

Morgan: You can’t rid her from your life, because she’s apart of you, and...I- I think that’s a love worth fighting for, Nancy.

Nancy: [between gulps] Right. Right, thank you. Thanks, Morgan.

Morgan: Wait, Nancy, you don’t have to leave. It’s ok-

Nancy: It’s fine. I uh- I should go.

[door clicks shut]

Knox: Uhh, did you just make all that up?

Morgan: [weakly] I don’t know why I did that..

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 12

part 1, prev part

The Chief walks into the hospital room the next day in full uniform. Pulling out his key ring and setting the key in the lock. The cuffs open, clacking against each other as he takes them back.

Eddie is free.

“I owe you an apology, I should have taken these off a long time ago.”

Wayne looks at the Chief, wondering if he should be grateful or angry. “Why happed with the feds?”

“They agreed to point the other way. Still looking for a fall guy, but it won’t be your nephew. I made sure of that.”

“Thank you.”

The Chief huffs. “Don’t be thanking me. You should thank Harrington, he really knocked some sense into my head.”

That seems to happen often. Through his actions, the way that he talks to people. The way that he’s respected Wayne’s boundary to leave him and Eddie alone. The way he cares for Dustin. Cares for Eddie even when Wayne didn’t want him too. Fought for the things he knew were true, never giving up.

Wayne really needed to talk to him.

“I hear he’s been getting better,” the Chief continues. Taking the seat next to Wayne.

Wayne nods. “Yeah, wakin’ up slowly. Should be able to talk again in a few days.”

The Chief nods. “I know I was really dragging my feet to get the cuffs off, but my offer still stands. If you need anything, feel free to give me a call. I still can’t tell you everything that happened, but as time goes on, you’re going to have a lot of questions. I can hopefully give you some answers. Lend a hand when you need me to.”

There’s going to be a lot of things that Wayne will never understand. Life has shown him that already. There were things that he didn’t understand before and learned to.

He can do it all again. Try to ignore the need for answers and try to understand. Have the patience he had when Eddie was younger. As he was learning how to be the person Eddie needed him to be.

“I appreciate that, Chief.”

“Please, just call me Jim.”

Jim leaves a little after that. Giving Wayne some space. He goes on a walk a little while later. Wanting some fresh air. Coming back to see Dustin heading down the hall, Steve sitting peacefully in the waiting room. Looking a hell of a lot better than yesterday.

“Can I talk to you?” Wayne sits down across from him. Ready to actually have a conversation with him for once.

Steve sits up a bit straighter, trying to make a better impression. “Yeah, sure.”

Wayne clears his throat. “I owe you an apology. You never gave me a reason to treat you the way I did and it was harsh of me to assume things about you. It’s not an excuse, but I was angry at a lot of things and seein’ you walk out of here fine while Eddie’s not. . . It was an easy thing for me to be mad at.”

“I don’t blame you. I think I would have reacted the same if it was my kid in Eddie’s position. You really have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do,” Wayne insists. “You all clearly went through something that I don’t fully understand. I had no right to keep you from seeing him.”

Steve has a look a mix emotions. Like he’s fighting between gratitude and sorrow. “Would it be ok if I saw him now?”

Wayns nods. Walking down the hall with Steve to Eddie’s room, letting him sit in the chair next to him. He swears that he sees tears start to form in Steve’s eyes, but he blinks them away before he can confirm.

“Where’s the kid?” Wayne asks.

Steve clears his throat. “Visiting Max. She’s doing a lot better now.”

“That’s good.”

“He looks so different,” Steve says after a break of silence. “Like the energy of him was sucked out.”

Wayne nods, having felt the same way for a long time.

“I know I didn’t know him that long, but.” Steve takes a breath. “During that week, he was really starting to feel like someone who could become a friend. I was really looking forward to becoming his friend.”

“What happened to him?” Wayns asks, desperate. “What happened to you?”

Steve meets his eyes, a troubled look resting on his face. The want to tell him but the knowledge that he can’t. “I wish I could tell you, but I legally can’t. I know that probably doesn’t make it better.”

“It doesn’t. But I appreciate you trying.”

Dustin comes in and reads his chapter like he always does. Having to pull up another chair since Steve stole his. They leave shortly after it’s done. Giving Wayne a few minutes to himself before he has to leave for work.

He leans closer to Eddie’s bed, placing a hand on the empty bar. Afraid to touch him, to do anything to make him worse. But he hasn’t said much in the days he’s been here. Too hopeless to imagine that Eddie could hear him. Today, he decides to try.

“Hey, kid. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you much in the past week. You must think there’s somethin’ up. That you did somethin’ to make me not talk to you. That’s not the case.”

Fear like this is something that Wayne never wanted to experience. Losing a child is something that a parent never wanted to even think about. Let alone live through. And while Eddie isn’t technically Wayne’s kid, he is in all the ways that matter.

“Truth is, I was scared. I thought I lost you so many times in the past few weeks. Each time I came in here, I thought would be the day that the nurses told me you were really gone. That I lost my son.”

Words get choked in Wayne’s throat as tears fall down his face. Things he’s been too afraid to say all coming out at once.

“But I didn’t. You’re still here. And you’re gettin’ better and I am so proud of you.”

Eddie opens his eyes, looking toward Wayne. His fingers tense, raising slightly towards Wayne’s hand. Wayne places his hand on top of Eddie’s squeezing it tight.

“Nothin’ you could do could ever make me not proud of you.”

next part

Note: I’m not crying, you’re crying. Jesus why do I do this to myself. Also this concludes chapter three, now posted on my ao3. Back to Dustin's POV in the next part

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

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[despacito-uwu16]

The Resolution

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Forced Proximity | Pining

<- prev end

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

We could be, we could be anything tonight, just tell me anything you like. Can’t you see, we could be something if we tried, just tell me how to make you mine.

Make You Stay- Girl and the Dreamcatcher

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Despite you leaving for Norway today, your boss asked you to cover the championship game, with the benefit of letting you leave during the 7th inning stretch.

Instead of taking notes, you just sat and watched the game. Ken was there cheering for his team, despite the broken arm. You tried to avoid looking at Ken, but it was difficult when the jumbotron would feature him every ten minutes. To your knowledge, he hasn’t said anything about the one-night stand in college. Which was surprising, because you were ready to come clean about it all. 

“Hey Y/N”?

You turn to Ami. 

“Is everything all right”? She asks.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine”! You assured her.

“Really? Cause you haven’t touched your recorder”. She points to the device that is resting on the table.

“Oh, that old thing? I don’t need it”. You laughed. Ami looked at you unamused. 

“Is this about Ken”? She asks. Your side eyed her slowly. “What makes you think this is about Ken”? 

“Y/N”. Ami raised her eyebrow. “Every time Ken appears on the jumbotron, you look away. Also, you’ve been staring at Ken’s social media page”. She points to your phone on your lap. Your phone was on low brightness but Kenji’s X page was still visible to Ami’s eyes. You turn your phone off and put it on the table facing down. 

“You are psychotic”. 

“It’s just an observation”. Ami shrugs.

You continue to watch the game, mentally counting down the minutes you have until you finally get to leave. 

“Have you talked to him since the interview”? Ami asks.

“No. And I don’t have a reason to”. 

“Maybe you should at least see him before you leave”. She suggested 

“Like I said, I don’t have a reason to talk to him. He was merely an assignment”. You lied.

As soon as the announcer announces the 7th inning stretch, you begin to pack your bags. 

“And that’s my cue to leave”. You smiled as you put your bag straps on your shoulder

“Before you go, a little piece of advice”. Ami says halting you to a stop.

“You’re the youngest reporter in the business. You’ve done so much for yourself. So don’t be afraid to be spontaneous sometimes”. 

You slowly nodded. “Okay then, well, it was nice working with you too Ami”. You exited the media room and then started to speed walk to the parking lot

~

Kenji’s eyes dart up at the media room and then back to the game. Every time his eyes looked into the room, his heart sank. He looks at the empty chair with sadness. You were already gone. 

“SATO! EYE ON THE GAME”! Coach Shimura yells.

Sato sat up straight and watched the game, trying to not think about you. 

“Dude, you okay? You’ve been out of focus since you got back”. His teammate, Ryouta, says. 

“I’m fine”. Ken says, trying to watch the game. 

“Really? Because your eyes keep wandering at the media box”. Ryouta presses on

“Um, Ryouta? Enough about me, more on the game”. 

“If this is about the reporter chick, you should go after her”. 

Ken groaned. “Ryouta, drop it. Y/N’s already gone. She’s probably on that plane right now”. 

~

“UGH WHAT THE HELL”! You honked at the car in front of you. “DRIVE FASTER”! You yelled. You looked out the window and saw a line of cars ahead of yours. Of all the days the kaiju had to destroy the highway, it just had to be the day you were leaving. You slightly slide into your seat. 

“Don’t be afraid to be spontaneous”. Ami echoed in your mind.

“Ugh, what is up with her and her psychic advice”? You scoff as you tap your pointer finger on the steering wheel. 

The world was so persistent on guilt-tripping you today. While you were loading your luggage’s into your car, all of the billboards surrounding your apartment had Ken’s face plastered front and center with a chicken leg in his hand. During your drive to the stadium, there were posters of Ken and his signature colognes on the telephone poles. And now, as you were waiting forever in your car, a blimp flew over the highway every few minutes with a beer ad starring Ken. 

“Tastes like a home run”. He would say repeatedly.

You groaned. This was a sign. A sign that you have to make things right with Kenji. You stepped on the gas pedal, driving out of the line of cars and off to the nearest exit.

~

“You know, I don’t think it’s too late to go find her and tell her how you feel. It’ll make you chivalrous”. Said Ryouta. 

Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ryouta. Game. Focus”. 

“I know, I know, but I just think, you shouldn’t go in with life without any regrets. Life is too short, and I think she would like it if she reached out”. 

Kenji turns to Ryouta. ready to yell at him. But for some reason, he was right. The least Kenji could do is head to the airport and apologize to you in person. But he was stuck here, afraid that one wrong move could piss off his coach. 

The crowd cheers as another player from the Giants steps up to the plate, ready to hit the ball. Kenji looks at his watch and then at the sight of the game. 

“Go, I’ll cover you”. Ryouta whispers in Ken’s ear. 

“Thank you, Ryouta”. Ken pats his shoulder and runs out of the box unnoticed. 

~

You quickly got out of your car and ran off, not caring if it was locked or not. You ran towards the stadium in hopes that you could catch Ken. You hear the crowds roar as you almost reach the entrance. A small round object launched into the sky, falling out of the dome. You didn’t pay attention to it and focused on the entrance. 

“Y/N”! Someone yelled. 

But before you could turn your head, everything went pitch black. 

~

“Y/N”? 

You open your eyes and a bright light blinds you. Someone helped you sit up and put an ice pack on your head. 

“Y/N, are you okay”? You turn to see three Ken Satos looking down at you. 

“Ken? I thought you were an only child”. 

He chuckles, “It’s probably the concussion talking”.

Eventually, your eyes started to adjust to reality, but the pounding headache was still lingering.

“What happened”? 

“You got hit by a baseball. Again. I found you unconscious by the stadium entrance”.

“Oh, so that’s what it was”. 

“On the bright side, it wasn’t me who knocked you out this time”. He laughs.

You try to laugh, but the pain in your head begins to throb. Ken adjusts the ice pack on your head. 

“So, did you guys”…

Ken shows the championship ring on his ring finger. You smile. “Congrats”. 

“Thanks”. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team”? 

“I wanted to see if you were okay and to apologize for everything, for what happened during college, what I said last month, and for blackmailing you. I was completely selfish. You have every right to be mad at me”. 

“I’m not really mad at you. For one thing, I should be apologizing to you too. For what happened in college. I was so focused on my career that I wasn’t being self-aware, and ended up hurting your feelings. I wasn’t using you for any story. But it didn’t look that way when I left that morning. I’m sorry ”. 

Kenji smiles. “I guess everything was built by a few misunderstandings”.

“Yeah, it was. I’m glad we got to sort it out”. 

You look up at the clock on the wall.

8:51 PM

“Great, I missed my flight. And considering I just ended my lease on my apartment, looks like I have to go hotel hunting”. 

“Or, you can stay with me for the night”. Ken suggested.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to intrude”-

“I want you to. As a way to make up for everything. Also, Emi really misses you”. 

~

You walk into Kenji’s house and the feeling of peace returns to you. The first thing you do when entering the home is head to the basement to see Emi. As soon as you step out of the elevator, Emi immediately runs up to you, chirping gleefully and jumping up and down with joy. 

“I told you, she’s Y/N deprived”. 

You laugh. “Well, I missed you too Emi”. 

For the rest of the night you both played with Emi until she got tired. After putting her in the tube, you both settled down on the couch. You were trying to find flights for tomorrow, while Ken was trying to find his energy drink in the cooler. 

“Thanks for letting me stay. Despite everything”. You said as you turned off your phone. 

Kenji grabs his drink and cracks it open “It’s no problem. Like I said, I wanted to make it up to you”. He gives you a soft smile before drinking from the can. 

“So, did you find another flight”? He asks. 

“Yep, leaves tomorrow afternoon”.

“That’s great”.

You raise an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to try to stop me”?

“Nah, I don’t want to get in the way again”. He says. 

You were both sitting in silence, watching Emi intently while Mina sang her a lullaby. 

“Although”… He adds

You turn to Kenji. He takes your hands and holds them gently. 

“I don’t want to go the rest of my life without telling you how much you mean to me. You’re more than just Emi’s babysitter. You’re everything that I want. For the last two months, I never felt so alone whenever I’m with you. You make me want to become the best version of myself and become a better person. I know I can’t make you stay, but I want you to know that I love you”. 

~

That night, you were lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You were thinking about Kenji’s confession. About how you were about to respond, but he ran out to do “Ultraman business”, knowing all too well that he can’t fight with a broken arm. But you knew deep down, he was scared. Scared that he was going to repeat the same mistakes, scared that you were going to laugh at him.

You hear a buzz coming from your phone and you turn it on. 

UNITED AIRLINES

FLIGHT FROM TOKYO TO OSLO 

Boarding Time: 1:05

Flight Time: 1:45 PM 

CHECK-IN NOW 

Your stomach turns as you look at it. Instead of being excited, you lay there with an ultimatum. Kenji or your job. Your job made you happy. You achieved more promotions and accomplishments than any other reporter. You were traveling the world, and you were getting so much praise from everyone. While you were happy, deep down you weren’t satisfied. On the other hand, being with Kenji brought you peace. Sure you two didn’t get along at first, but as time passed by, you were comfortable around him. You haven’t felt any comfort since you started your current job. You’re scared to think about what life would be like if you left Japan already. How upsetting it would be if you left Kenji behind without telling him…

You love him too.

Your cheeks heat up, and you feel your heart beating faster. 

You love Kenji. 

The billboards, Ami’s advice, and the baseball incident led you back to Kenji. And this time, the world was giving you a second chance. 

So with your impulses ready to take the risk, you begin to text your boss.

~

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of something burning. You got up and ran out of your room. When you get to the kitchen, you see Kenji putting down a plate of food on the table. 

“Hey, you’re awake”! He smiles. “Breakfast is almost ready”! 

You look down at the plate of food. The toast was almost burnt to a crisp. The bacon looks too oily and ready to turn into ash. As for the eggs, it looks completely overcooked and a little black. 

“I know it looks unappetizing, but if you put a lot of ketchup on the eggs, it’ll mask the ashy taste”. Kenji says earnestly. 

“You made this for me”? You look back at Kenji. 

“Well yeah. You made dinner for me multiple times, so I thought I would do something for you too. Also, you have a flight today so I just wanted to make sure you eat well and”-

Before Kenji could finish his thought, you walked up to him and locked your lips onto his. Kenji stands there in shock, but eventually returns the kiss, holding you close with his arm. He held you tightly not wanting to let you go. You pull away to catch your breath, Kenji puts his forehead onto yours, his breath shaky. 

“I canceled my flight”. You say, finally speaking up. 

His eyes widened. “What? What about Norway”?

“I told my boss that I want to continue working in Japan. He was more than understanding. So he extended my residency here. Meaning, I’m staying”.

“But why Y/N? What about your dreams”?

“Norway can wait. I am still young after all. Plus I don’t want to go on with the rest of my life without telling you… I love you too, Kenji”. 

Kenji smiles and kisses you again. 

“I love you Y/N. I promise to never take you for granted, and to make every minute of every day worth”-

Suddenly, you both hear a high pitch alarm go off and see a visible trail of black clouds coming from the oven. Kenji’s happy face turned into horror as he ran towards the oven.

“NO NO NO NOT THE HASH BROWNS”. 

You tried to stifle your laughter as he tried to grab the tray from the oven with one hand. You grabbed an oven mitt and helped him take it out, the smell of burnt potatoes hitting your nose. Kenji throws the burnt potato patties in the trash can. He sighs as he grabs his phone from his pocket

“How about we take out”. 

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

BONUS SCENE (cause I love my patient pookies) 

“So what’s gonna happen now that you’re staying in Japan”? Kenji asks as he takes a bite of his ham and cheese omelette. 

“Well, I get to obsess over one of the greatest living players in history”. You responded as you finished your bacon strip. 

Kenji sits up tall with a toothy grin. 

“I mean, Ohtani is so amazing. I mean, his batting average is perfect”. You dreamily sigh. Ken pouts at you, making you laugh. 

“Aww you jealous”? 

“Pft, no”. He crosses his arms and huffs.

You put your to go box down on the coffee table and scoot closer to Kenji. 

“Awww it’s okay”. You cooed while slightly pinching Kenji’s cheeks. “You’re still the second greatest player of all time”.

Suddenly, Kenji throws his to go box on the table and tackles you down on the couch. You screamed as Kenji begins to tickle you.

“Hey, you’re arm”! You breathed out while you point at his sling.

“Eh, it’s almost healed anyway”. He shrugs, continuing his assault.

“Stop”! You laugh.

“Say it”! 

“Okay, okay”! You breathed out. “You, Kenji Sato, is the greatest living baseball player”.

“Better than Ohtani”? 

“Better than Ohtani”.

“Yes”! He hugs you tightly as you both fell back on the couch. 

“I’m glad you’re staying with me”. Kenji whispers and kisses your forehead. You cuddle closer to him, hearing his steady breathing and relaxed heart beat. 

“I’m glad I get to stay with you”.

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

A/N: My first mini-series is complete!! Thanks for being patient with the posting schedule. It’s so hard trying to figure out what day to post and what time. I also want to thank you for reading!! It was such a lengthy process and I’m glad it’s finally out and in the open! The comments are so sweet and I always look forward to reading them. I have a few projects cooking, but it’s probably gonna get posted later on. And with school coming up, some stuff might take longer than others. Thank you guys for your support! I love the Ultraman community so much!!

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!!

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

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[wasteddmoondust]

pineapple || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong? a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!

prev. chapter

You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.

After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.

"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.

He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"

"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."

"Got it."

The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.

"Same here," you admit.

He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."

"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."

"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"

You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."

He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?

"I'm happy to do that."

You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.

He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."

"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"

"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."

You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"

James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"

"Well since you already are one," you shrug.

James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."

You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.

"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"You know you can talk about him, right?"

James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."

You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."

His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."

"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.

"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"

You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.

James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.

For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.

Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"

"Yes, why?"

"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."

James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"

You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"

He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.

"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"

"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"

"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."

He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"

"James, trust me, it's fine-"

"I'll bring you on a second date."

You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."

At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.

Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.

He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.

"So... same time next week?" you suggest.

He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."

"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."

He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"

"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"

And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.

He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.

a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.

taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

Chapter 1 [IKYLHT]

~3.5k Words | Series Masterlist | Prev: 141 & Rabbit Headcanons | Next Chapter

-

Ghost’s initial impression of you was not necessarily a fond one.

Admittedly, he was pushing down a scoff long before the humvee even entered the far side of the compound.

So when Shepherd’s slow drawl crackled over the comms, he resigned himself to letting his frustration fester deep under his skin.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeants are leading the way on this.”

“The Sergeants?”

“Sergeant ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Gunnery Sergeant ‘Rabbit”

He held back a groan.

Not these two.

Now Ghost hadn’t minded Soap’s presence in Verdansk, he could hardly remember Johnny if he’s being completely honest. It was years ago, and if you’d told him he worked with over 50 soldiers in that month alone he wouldn't bat an eye. 

It was your callsign that had pushed forward the memories of the man- hours of incessant rambling to Price about the mission you’d just come back from, updates about an ankle injury, and just about anything else he could think of. Ghost was almost surprised the Captain contently sat through it all, but he always had been a patient man.

Narrowly avoiding the elbows of your comrades shuffling off the humvee, you spot your superior from your seat next to Johnny, averting your gaze to grab his outstretched hand and drop the small distance to the ground, patting his shoulder with a smile as he turns to the lieutenant. 

“Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah, L.t.? Save ya’ a seat, sir.”

Watching the man’s dark eyes brush past Johnny’s shoulder and onto your frame, you give a nod and shout, “Lieutenant, sir!”, before following Soap’s quick steps as he loads onto the heli.

Following you and Johnny’s retreating forms, he sighs out through his nose and feels his eyebrows furrow. You fist-bump each soldier you pass, all smiles and laughs as you say something that gets the soldiers talking.

Fucking hell.

“Ghost- you copy?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, sir. Out here.”

Buckling yourself in, you watch him walk up the ramp and settle into the seat across from Johnny.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. I serve as this unit’s operations chief, please let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with. I go by Rabbit, sir.”

Ghost swears he feels his blood pressure rising, but stomps it down best he can and huffs a breath under his mask. 

He knows it’s irrational- there really is no reason for the irritation your introduction brings him, especially when your job is centered on keeping the unit well-tempered, but he’s tired. Tired of unpacking his duffle only to be called back to base mere hours after returning to the subsidized accommodation he calls home.

He really is a sweet man. Despite his cold exterior and intimidating reputation, he was hardly ever mean with his words. Curt, maybe. Brief, blunt, clipped- all fine words to describe the man but never mean. Enough missions with him- hearing the petnames roll off his tongue when dealing with hostages, feeling the gentleness of his hands as he patches bullet wounds, seeing the way he gladly takes the bedroll by the open window to ensure his comrades aren’t harrassed by the winter breeze- one may come to believe he was actually the kindest soldier among the squadron. 

So he keeps his tone level.

“Anything else?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Anything else you go by, soldier?”

“You can call me Gun if you’d like, sir. Not sure if anyone here would know you’re referring to me, though.”

He nods once, leaning back and turning his head to look towards another soldier.

“Beside me is Sergeant John MacTavish. We call him Soap, sir. You two worked alongside Captain Price in Verdansk.”

He’s quiet, nodding once to Johnny before turning again. 

Crossing your arms with a smile, you nudge Soap and give a small nod in the direction of the lieutenant.

“What’d you do to piss him off?” You murmur with a poorly concealed smile.

“No idea. We hardly spoke. Was too busy tellin’ Price all about your little oven incident on base.” Soap teases with a nudge of his shoulder against yours.

You roll your eyes and nudge him back before resting your head on the now departing heli and closing your eyes. “Oh, so you were chatting everyone’s ear off like always? That explains it.”

Letting out a low chuckle, he knocks his boot into yours twice before copying your stature, arms crossed and head leaning back.

Unlike the duo, Ghost doesn’t find sleep easily. 

If you ask, he’d say it was for the betterment of the mission. No team can afford a groggy, sleep-ridden lieutenant, especially not before a kill-or-capture. 

In actuality, he’d always been a light sleeper, ever since he was a boy. The military hardens you, gives you the ability to sleep in cold, damp environments that make you question if you’ll wake up having grown moss. But Ghost had never gotten over his need for a solid ground to sleep on, no matter how hard he tried.

He finds himself thinking of those futile attempts once more as he sits across from the two of you, shoulders squished as you lean on each other for support in the shaking heli.

He feels a sense of deja vu, though you’re both a tad more battered than the first time this scene played out. Securing the crash site was bloody, but he recalls Johnny’s soft smile when you knocked your boot against his and asked how his bleeding head felt.

“It’s just a graze, Bun. How’s the ankle?”

“Still clicking. Don’t think it’ll ever go back to normal.”

“A shame, really. Guess fate is forcing you to stick with me. Just for the foot rubs, o’course.”

“Of course, no other reason.”

He knocks his boot against yours, twice, and ruffles your hair before he leans back into the wall of the small exfil aircraft and closes his eyes.

“Hey! You know I’m low on gel, ruin my hair again and I’ll have you written up for insubordination.”

“Cry me a river, Bugs.”

“‘Oh, good one, Johnny. Hurt my heart with that one, truly.” You tease, giggling as he tosses his MTP cap onto your head and pushes the brim well below your eyes. 

“Sleep, Bunny.”

You look much better now, Ghost thinks. You’ve had a night to recoup- shower and rewrap the ankle he’s since learned you don’t go a day without tending to. The same could be said for Soap, bloody hair having been washed and cropped down an inch. He distinctly remembers hearing you snip at Johnny’s hair from the men's showers, pleading for him to grow it out at one even length and forcing the shortening regardless of Soap’s whines. 

He had stopped dead in his tracks the first time he heard your voice ring out, fully convinced he was mere steps away from walking into the women’s showers and living the rest of his military career with the word ‘nonce’ attached to his image.

His internal panic was silenced when he heard an unfamiliar voice ring out.

“Just tell ‘em your hand slipped, Rabbit. We’ll vouch for ‘ya!”

“Daniel, I swear to god, I’ll shiv ya’ in yer sleep.” He hears Soap’s loud, muffled voice.

“Johnny, you move again and you’re gonna have a stripe of beard missing.”

“I’d listen to her, Soap. Oliver’s already slipped her 20 quid to give you a chinstrap.”

“You’re full of shit, Daniel!”

He did his best to ignore the two men’s loud argument as he opened the door to the showers, just barely getting a glimpse of Soap’s side profile where he sits in a small towel and faces the wide mirror, blocked by your figure as you prop one knee on the bench and trim away at his beard. His arm is lazily wrapped around your waist, keeping your balance and occasionally fiddling with a fraying belt loop.

“Hey, L.t. Hittin’ the showers?”

Ghost lets out an affirmative grunt as you turn to face him with a grin he knows by now is mildly troubling.

“Good evening, Lieutenant. Need a trim? I’ve used my model, Mr. MacTavish here, as an example of how a good, clean cut can shape up any fixer-upper. By law I must state, I am eligible to receive a small commission based on the sale of any products sold here today. So, whatchya’ thinking, sir?”

You gesture towards the half empty USO Care Package that holds generic two-in-one toiletries with a giggle that’s spurred on by Daniel and Oliver’s loud chuckles. He takes note of your freshly washed hair and knows the good mood stems from the fresh cooked dinner and warm shower you’d clearly had the opportunity of enjoying. He’d scarfed down the dinner same as you, though in his private quarters, and now wonders how you’d freshened up so fast. 

He doesn’t recall Gunnery Sergeants being permitted upgraded living arrangements during deployments. Even he had to fight for authorization for an ensuite bathroom, and the showers were completely unusable. But the women’s barracks were on the other side of the compound, the showers close-by having been closed for refurbishment. You couldn’t possibly have been so fast as to have walked over there, showered, blow-dried your hair, changed into your civilian clothes, and walked back- all in a matter of minutes. Daniel and Oliver were just wrapping up their showers, and seeing by the small bottle of conditioner clutched in Soap’s hand, he isn’t far behind. Did that mean-

“Can I take your silence as a yes, Lieutenant?” You grin, wiggling the razor in your grasp.

Ghost steps around you and barks out a ‘Negative, Gun,” before walking to a shower in the far corner and pulling the curtain closed. Stripping down and turning the water on, he listens for the sounds of footsteps before even thinking of removing the balaclava. He doesn’t hear any, but rather your low voice speaking to Soap as the sounds of running water stop.

“Alright, I’m done. Go finish up.”

He scrubs the dirt and grime away as he listens to the other two men say their goodbyes as they leave, and only once he hears you chat to Soap from the bench as he conditions his hair does Ghost remove the balaclava and scrub at the greasepaint around his eyes.

He thinks back to later that night, hours after you and Soap had left the shower room he may or may not have locked by way of pressing an oddly misplaced chair firm under the handle of the door.

“Johnny, that slice is way too big. You’re gonna get a stomachache again. And this time I’m not- Lieutenant! Hello again! Take a seat, sir.”

At his lack of movement, your smile widens and you gesture toward the shared dining table.

“Please, go ahead.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a little tradition Soap and I have. Buttermilk pie after every successful mission. I make it myself, secret recipe. Please, join us. The rest of the unit’s already had their slices.”

“We lost sight of Hassan and four of our men, Gun. You consider that a success?”

He isn’t unkind with his words, just factual.

“Johnny, am I standing here talking to our lieutenant?”

“Indeed, Bonnie.”

“And Lieutenant, would you say you feel alive?”

“Hardly.”

“I’ll take it.” You mumble, shrugging. “Sounds like a success to me. I’ll grab you a slice, sir.”

He wasn’t able to get a word out before you were shoving the flimsy plate into his chest, small dabs of whipped cream hitting his black hoodie. He moved a hand to push the plate away, but somehow you were faster in turning that hand and precariously balancing the wobbling desert plate in the center of his gloved palm.

“Please, Lieutenant. It boosts team morale. You’re here to do your job. I get that. Let me do mine.”

You’re physically able to see the breath he lets out, gently curling his fist around the desert and blinking owlishly. 

“Here’s yer fork, L.t.”

Mouth stretched into a wide grin, Soap throws an arm over your shoulder and directs you down the hall and into the empty common area, grabbing the remote and switching the channel over to some old Scottish comedy movie you detest but could recite by heart. 

Looking down at the now-flaking whipped cream stain, Ghost breathes out a soft growl and flips open the cabinets, grabbing a roll of cling wrap and sufficiently covering the slice of pie. 

Opening the fridge, he goes to place the dessert on the top shelf before stopping to read the comically large, sparkly pink piece of poster paper taped to the bottom two bins.

Property of Sgt. Soap and GnSgt. Rabbit. Failure to comply with direct no-contact orders will result in disciplinary infractions. Don’t think we won’t notice. We see all. 

Shaking his head with a small chuckle and roll of his dark eyes, Ghost turns back to the small camera he spotted lazily hidden behind the coffee machine and holds up the pie, before turning back and sliding open the first bin.

There isn’t much- some salsa, two ripe avocados, and a few Trader Joe’s microwave meals Ghost imagines cost a fortune to import. 

Opening the second drawer, the bin catches on the lip of the fridge and Ghost has to shimmy it back and forth before it gives way.

Just barely keeping himself from letting out a full-bellied laugh, he’s able to catch a stray candy bar that falls from the overflowing stash of refrigerated sweets. 

It’s a milk chocolate cadbury bar, and he only slightly over-exaggerates his movements in brushing his hand over the top of the pile before discreetly palming the chocolate bar up his sleeve.

“Don’t think we won’t notice. Hmph. Don’t know how you could, fuckin’ mountain of sweets.” 

Rifling through the pile, he passes a collection of English candies amongst some Scottish sweets he doesn’t recognize. He notes the small collection of American candies at the bottom of the bin, some he could’ve sworn was banned in the UK around the same time he was still working as an apprentice butcher at the grocery store. Something about red dye or sprinkles or choking hazards, he can’t care enough to remember. 

Regardless, he does his best to smush down the pile without crushing anything, once again wrestling the bin closed.

“Fucking hell, half these don’t even need to be refrigerated.”

He scoffs a low laugh as he places the pie in the first bin, barely half full. Securing the sign once again, he rises to his full height and closes the fridge. Making eye contact with the freezer, he shakes his head and walks off with a murmur.

“Don’t even wanna know.”

“-Sir?”

Your voice has his eyes snapping to yours before doing a quick one-over of the helicarrier.

When did the sun rise?

“You okay, sir? Called you a couple times.”

He doesn’t recall hearing you, doesn’t quite recall falling asleep either, but he can’t think of any other way he’d get distracted so easily.

He looks back over to you as you stretch out your arms, giving a nod.

“Freaked me out a little. You, uh… you didn’t blink. For like five minutes. Thought you were having a ‘Nam flashback or something.”

His lack of response and owlish stare has you laughing sheepishly, instead choosing to pat Soap’s thigh, nudging your shoulder against his and stirring him awake.

“Johnny. C’mon, wakey wakey. We’re starting descent.” 

Soap mumbles something incoherent but doesn’t open his eyes. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and shake him with a laugh.

“No no no, John, don’t fall back asleep. You’ve got ten minutes to liven up.”

Turning to Ghost, you nod with a small smile.

“Lieutenant. I saved an extra for you, sir.”

You reach into the small cooler beneath your seat and pull out a milk chocolate cadbury bar.

“Since you like them so much.” You add with a wink, closing the cooler and strapping a medieval looking chain lock that definitely surpassed overkill. The tips of Ghost’s ears turn red, and though you couldn’t possibly see that through the balaclava, he swears the mirth in your eyes proves otherwise. 

“Grab me anythin’, Bun?”

Rummaging around before handing Soap an Irn-Bru, you look out the small, round window and sigh happily.

Lifting the cooler lid, Ghost nods to a small portion of the sweets at the bottom of the container.

“Weren’t those discontinued?” he asks, glancing over at you as you ignore him in favor of unbuckling yourself and walking towards the cockpit, an excited hop to your step.

“She has ‘er ways, L.t. ‘S Probably best not to question it.” Soap chuckles with a smile and a shake of his head, popping open the can and suppressing his smile in between sips of the sweet drink. 

“What’s got her so giddy, then?”

“Closest she’s been to home in a while. Plus, she used to visit Mexico a lot when she was a kid, stationed on-and-off for a few years, too. Don’t mention it, though.” He says, nodding his head in your direction where you exit the cramped cockpit.

“Pilot says we’re three minutes out. I’d eat that chocolate while you’ve got the chance, Lieutenant.”

You turn, taking Johnny with you, and go back towards the cockpit where a few spare medkits lay in boxes. He watches you noncommittally skim your hands over a few of them, and he realizes you’d given him the opportunity to eat in privacy.

He’s tempted to just sit and time how long you’d stay with your back turned. Watch and see if you’d risk falling on your ass as the heli roughly lands if it means he could have an additional few seconds of peace.

But if there’s one guilty pleasure Ghost will always allow himself to indulge in, it’s chocolate. He’s always had a sweet tooth, something about the rich, milky cocoa dessert brings him back to a memory he can’t quite recall but knows feels right. 

He doesn’t lift the balaclava, though he probably could’ve with the amount of time you two spent with your backs turned. It’s barely noticeable, but as he slips the small squares of chocolate under his mask and to his lips, he spots the start of a thin, smooth scar trailing a few inches under your right ear to the start of your spine. The scar gets thicker as it trails down, evidence of a deeper wound, and he wonders if you feel just as vulnerable turning your back to him as he does slithering his only free hand under the mask and past the pale scars that decorate his soft lips.

Folding the wrapper and stuffing it into one of the free pockets of his tac vest, he loudly clears his throat and unbuckles himself.

Turning back and smiling, you walk back to the pilot and clap his shoulder with a ‘thanks, James’ before settling back in your seat next to Soap and allowing the landing to jerk you half out of your seat. 

He looks towards the pilot, squinting his eyes but only able to see his outline with the harsh sun glaring through the windshield.

He’s not able to get his sights on the man before the ramp is lowering and he’s following Soap in meeting the Colonel.

“Alejandro”

“Sergeant MacTavish”

“Call me Soap”

“Lieutenant. Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

“Actually, I believe he prefers to be-”

“That’ll do.”

Nodding as he fights back an amused grin, Alejandro looks past the two men.

“Gunnery Sergeant Rabbit. What’s in the cooler?”

Whipping his head to turn to you, he almost lets out a sigh. Really, he should’ve expected it by now, but wishful thinking had him hoping you’d leave the cooler of sweet snacks for the pilots to enjoy. 

“Doubloons.” You smile, setting the cooler at your feet and shaking Alejandro’s hand. “Colonel Vargas. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Welcome to the ‘City of Souls’.”

Picking up the cooler, Soap looks out at the rising sun before turning back to Alejandro.

“I’ve never been to Mexico.” 

“This isn’t Mexico. This is Las Almas.”

Giving his strong arms an appreciative squeeze, you position yourself between him and Ghost, listening attentively to the Colonel’s words. 

“Shephard’s contractors are inbound to reinforce. They’re bringing hardware, they’ll need room. My base is your base.”

“Good. Now, where’s Hassan?”

“Cartel safe-house, ten clicks from here.”

Opening the door and throwing the cooler behind his seat, Johnny reaches a hand out and leads you to the center seat, grabbing the buckle and strapping you in.

“No fun.” You pout and whisper quietly, breaking into a smile as he shoves himself into the cramped seat and knocks his boot into yours with a pat to your thigh.

“This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.”

“Tengo miedo de los fantasmas”

Fighting back a smile, you turn to Ghost.

“Mhm, Fantasma. Sounds sexy. I think that’s what I’ll call you.”

Ghost’s glare settles deep into your soul, but it got a chuckle from the rest of the car- and it’s not like that glare didn’t pleasantly spike your heart rate- so you brush it off with a smile.

“You know Spanish?” Alejandro turns back, but Soap is quick to speak.

“No.” He bumps his boot into yours.

Alejandro lets out a chuckle as he turns back towards the road.

“You will.”

-

<3

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 19: Spirit

Contents | Prev Part | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) A year and a half has passed and Ellis has moved on, but the universe never seems to let her forget her past.

Word Count: 8.3K (It's another hefty one lol oops)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, smut incl: penetrative sex, 'quickie', rough, no aftercare. Readers must be 18+

The world never stops turning, no matter how unfair it may seem. We crash our cars yet the radio still plays, traffic lights keep changing as we sit in the wreck, red then amber then green, and back again. Daffodils bloom as dreams wilt away, and the sky still glitters with fireworks at the end of the worst year of someone's life. We are passengers on a train with no stops, and the options are limited; embrace the journey or get dragged along behind it. 

Eighteen months had passed since you'd let the light back in. A year and a half of laughter and growth, of new friends and milestones. Granted, you still couldn't drive. Still had terrible posture and a knack for saying the wrong things. But those that loved you didn't care, and you were finding it easier to love yourself because of that. 

You were four hours from home, sitting in the passenger seat of Rav's car as he drove you through the most quaint, scenic town you'd ever seen. It was like an illustration; thatched roofs and Tudor cladding, ivy on brick and winding cobblestone lanes. There was a milkman driving a float in front of you, an old lady setting up tables outside a café as a policeman strolled down the street, smiling and waving at passers by. 

You turned to Rav. "Did you ever watch Midsomer Murders?" 

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, smirking like he knew what you were about to say.

"This place is just too idillic," you said. "Feels like Jessica Fletcher's somewhere investigating a suspicious death." 

"That was Murder She Wrote." 

"Oh. Well, still..." 

He laughed, craning his head to see around the milk float in front. "Fucking hell, first the tractor, now this." 

"It looks like he's going that way." 

"Woohoo!" he cheered, speeding up as the float turned the corner.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Lewis Hamilton, slow down." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, for a second there it sounded like you were criticising my driving. You, Ellis Weiss, the woman whose name alone strikes fear into the hearts of driving instructors everywhere." 

You hit him on the arm.

He laughed, before squinting to read the road sign ahead. "I'm not seeing any directions for this place yet, are you?" 

"No. And I still don't have any signal so I can't Google Maps it. Why don't you pull over and we can ask someone for directions?" 

He gave a reluctant hum and kept driving. 

"Rav, just pull over and ask." 

"Hang on a second, let me see-"

"Why are men so opposed to getting directions?" 

"I'm not opposed, I just-" 

You reached a dead end. He rolled to a stop as you glared at him. 

"Y'know what, it's fine," he said facetiously. "Who needs marriage anyway? This isn't the 1920's, we're a progressive society."

You laughed. "May I remind you, you were the one who proposed."

He pressed his mouth into a straight line, jokingly rolling his eyes before turning the car around and driving back the way you came. 

You drove a little while longer, finally spotting a spire in the distance; the tall, stone point peeking over a row of houses.

"Is that the one?" asked Rav.

"I think it is." 

He got closer, turning onto the street where a large church stood proudly at the bottom. Perfectly kept grass bordered the beautiful stone building, winding paths and an elaborate sign near the entrance. 

"St Joseph's," Rav read. "Yeah, this is it. Thank fuck for that." 

He pulled into the carpark and you felt a strange wave of discomfort ripple through your stomach. It didn't seem to matter how many churches you visited, how much time passed; the memories were like a scar, healed but never fully gone. 

You climbed out into the cool, spring breeze, drying your sweaty palms on your trousers. 

"Here we go, church number three," said Rav. "Third time's a charm, right?"

"Well this isn't falling apart like the last one, so we're off to a good start," you replied.

You walked together down a long path, climbing the steps and pushing through the doors into the foyer. It smelled musky, smoky; frankincense and myrrh, wood and incense, rose and beeswax. There was a man pinning signs to a noticeboard, his back to you as he whistled happily to himself. 

"Excuse me," said Rav. "Are you the priest?"

The man turned. "Hm? Oh no, I'm just a volunteer." 

"Oh sorry. We were hoping we might be able to talk to the priest about possibly having a wedding here. I don't know if you might be able to... Erm..." 

"Ah, well I think he's in his office. I'll go and grab him for you." He smiled kindly. "You can come in and have a look around if you like? I'll only be a minute." 

"That's great, thank you." 

The man hurried away, disappearing through a nearby door that led to a long corridor. You walked with Rav, tentatively stepping into the chapel and looking around at the bright, vast space. 

He turned to you with an excited grin. "This is nice, isn't it." 

"It is," you said, looking up at the windows, the artwork on the walls. 

"Look." He walked down the aisle, pointing to the pews either side of him as he went. "Flowers here, right?" 

You nodded, watching as he jogged the rest of the way to stand at the altar. 

He held his hands out, gesturing to the space around him. "Yeah, this is nice. I can picture myself standing here. What do you think? Is the aisle long enough? Quick, Ellis, go there and walk down, see if you can picture it." 

You laughed and waved your hand at him, wandering over to a display of flowers instead, touching the petals gently to see if they were real and leaning forward to smell them. 

"Hi there, sorry to keep you," a voice echoed through the chapel. 

It sent a chill down your spine; the deep, rich tone seeping straight into your bones. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening in shock as the priest walked right past you, the sight of him leaving you frozen, staring at him as he met Rav in the middle of the aisle and reached for a handshake. 

There was a moment where you thought you were imagining it. The tall frame, dark curls and pale skin nothing more than a ghost, a mirage, a sign you needed to get some sleep. Then he introduced himself, I'm Father Benedict, and you knew he was real.

"Rav, nice to meet you." He gestured over to you. "And this is Ellis." 

He turned to look at you; his smile lines melting, lips parting in a stunned silence that seemed to last an eternity. But it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he cleared his throat, forcing a smile and making his way over to you.

"H-hi..." he said breathlessly, reaching out his hand. "Nice to meet you." 

You glanced down at his trembling fingers, conceding after a moment with a weak handshake. 

Rav began to talk, but his voice was nothing more than a muffled buzz in your ears. Your eyes glazed over, losing focus as Father Benedict walked back over to him.

"Yeah, I apologise for showing up like this," Rav said. "I know it's a shot in the dark that you'll have an opening at such short notice. But the church we were supposed to be having the wedding at burned down." He laughed in disbelief. "Like literally burned down to the ground. Talk about a bad omen." 

Father Benedict chuckled. But the sound was shallow, half-hearted, his eyes flitting over to you every few moments. 

"Yeah I can- I can have a look. What's er, what's the date you're after?" he asked. "I'll check my... erm... my... calendar- book- diary. Diary, that's the word." 

"June..." Rav hesitated, looking over at you.

"Seventh," you said. 

"Seventh, right." 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Okay," Father Benedict nodded. "Okay, let me just go and erm... Have a- Let me check." 

He walked out of the chapel, and it felt like you'd been holding your breath the entire time. You blew out a soft, shaking exhale as Rav walked over to you. 

"He's alright, isn't he," he said. "Better than the priest this morning who kept staring at your tits."  

"What? No, I liked him. Made me feel wanted." 

"Fuck off," he laughed, immediately covering his mouth in regret. 

You gave a weak smile. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit... I don't know." 

"No I'm... It's just... I think I might be getting a cold or something. Bit headache-y." 

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

Father Benedict returned, his eyes focusing immediately on Rav's hand on your shoulder. He fell silent for a moment before snapping out of it, shaking his head and looking down at the diary in his hands.

"S-sorry, could you just remind me of the date you wanted again?" 

Rav nodded. "It's June..." 

"Seventh," you said again.

"Okay, right, er..." Father Benedict cleared his throat, flicking through the pages. "So I do already have a wedding on the seventh. But Friday the sixth is open, or if you really want a Saturday, the following week is a possibility; the fourteenth?"

Rav looked at you, then down at the ground as he thought about it. "Yeah, no either of those should work. We know the owners of the venue so we should be able to swap the dates around. Could I... Can we get back to you?" 

"Yes, yes no problem." He closed the diary. "I er, I have somewhere to be, shortly, but if you want to come back tomorrow morning, we could sit and go through everything. Usually we'd need six months notice but, with the... fire and what not, I'm sure we can work something out; squeeze in your preparation, Saturday day, talk about costs and everything." 

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." Rav looked at you, as though seeking approval. 

You gave another weak smile.

"No problem," Father Benedict replied, glancing at you again. 

You began walking towards the exit, and you couldn't quite believe that was it; a quick conversation, a handshake, a 'nice to meet you' as though you were nothing but strangers. You weren't sure what the alternative would have been; a hug, tears, a blazing row? Perhaps it was best to leave it like this, to run without another word, just like he'd done to you. 

But all of a sudden, there was a rush of white noise above you, growing louder until it was deafening. You looked up at the ceiling in confusion, then over to the windows as rain began to stream down the glass. 

"Oh my god," you muttered. 

"You can't say that in a church," said Rav. 

You groaned. "We parked so far away." 

"Tell you what, you wait here and I'll go and get the car. I'll drive it right up to the door."

"What? No it's fine. It's just rain-" 

"Don't be stupid. Wait there, I'll be two seconds."

He ran off before you could protest any further. You huffed and crossed your arms, hovering in the archway between the chapel and the foyer. You could hear Father Benedict moving around behind you, but you refused to turn around, as though not looking at him meant he wasn't actually there. 

You felt like a stroppy child, balled up, head turned, teeth clenched. When he first left, you'd have done anything to see him again, to hear his voice, smell his aftershave. But there was something painful about finally knowing where he'd been; knowing that for eighteen months he'd been just four hours away, starting anew like you were just an old VHS he could tape right over.

"Ellis...?" he said softly, tentatively. 

You exhaled through your nose and turned slowly, looking up at him with a heavy brow and glassy eyes. 

"Hi," he breathed, like he didn't know what else to say. 

"Hi," you replied bluntly, turning away again. 

He paused for a while, but you could hear him getting closer, feet shuffling tentatively across the floor. "H... How are you?"

You turned back and glared up at him in disbelief.

He sighed, dropping his head. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't," you interrupted. "Just don't." 

He seemed reluctant to give in, standing there staring down at you, anxiously biting his lip as he deliberated with himself. But finally, he yielded, turning in defeat and beginning to walk away. 

You watched him leave, your breath quickening, lungs bubbling with anger and confusion, sadness and grief. 

"You just... Left," you blurted out. 

He stopped, turning back to look at you. "I know." 

"No word, no explanation. You just..." You struggled to find the words, eyes darting around the chapel as they welled with tears, before finally giving up. "Why?" you whispered.

He took a long pause, head stooped. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back up at you. "Because I was falling in love with you," he said simply, his voice nothing more than a breath.

You stared at him, the blue of his eyes so vibrant against the red in his waterline. 

"And..." he continued, taking a step towards you. "I know without a doubt that if I'd stayed, I would have just continued to fall more in love with you. And I would have loved you... more than... anything. More than..." He gestured to the church around you before shaking his head, his lip quivering. "I couldn't. I just- I couldn't..." 

"I wouldn't have ever asked you to." 

"I know that. But it wouldn't have stopped it from happening."

You pressed your mouth into a straight line, sniffing sharply and steadying your voice. "I was falling in love with you too." 

He nodded, like he already knew. 

You swallowed the urge to cry, taking a deep breath and shrugging. "Well there you go. What can you do."

He dropped his head, closing his eyes like your words hurt. 

You turned away, leaning against the frame of the archway as you waited for the beep of a car horn. 

"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Ellis," he said solemnly.

Your stomach tightened. Then you looked at him again. "I'm not the bride." 

His brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Bridesmaid," you said, pointing to yourself. 

"Oh..." he whispered. 

"Rav's fiancé had a dress fitting so she couldn't make it. Asked me to come with him instead because she didn't trust him to find a new church on his own." 

He exhaled a shaking breath, the corner of his mouth twitching with a relieved smile. "So you're- So you're not... Seeing anyone?" 

You shook your head. "No one's been worthy of me yet..." 

He gave a subtle smile, but your face remained stony. 

There was a loud beep and you turned to see Rav's car waiting near the door. You glanced back over your shoulder. "Good to see you, Father."

You rushed outside without waiting for a reply. The rain was warm, falling so hard it hurt as it pelted your skin. You tried to keep your breaths even as you hurried towards the car, a painful lump lodged in your throat. 

"Ellis! Ellis, hold on!"

You stopped at the passenger door, turning to see Father Benedict running down the church steps after you. He halted at the bottom, chest heaving, eyes wide. 

You stared at him, waiting for him to speak. 

"I..." he stammered. "I felt the urge to chase you but I didn't actually think through what I'd say once I got here..."

You blinked at him.

"D-do... Do you- could we maybe talk? I've got some work this afternoon but-" He pointed to a pub across the road. "We could get a drink, maybe? This evening? If you're not busy...?" 

You looked at the pub, then back to him.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, wiping the rain out of his eyes. "But if you could give me... an hour of your time..." 

You sighed and shook your head. "Yeah," you finally said. "Yeah, okay."

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding with a slight smile. "Okay. Okay, erm... I can be over there for eight?" 

"Okay." 

"Okay."

You pulled the handle and got into the car, slicking your wet hair back with your hands. 

"What was that about?" asked Rav. 

"Oh, nothing, he erm... he just needed me to remind him of the dates again." 

He began to drive and you sat in silence, shocked, shivering. The church grew smaller in the wing mirror until you could no longer see it all, the rain easing, a double rainbow emerging in the sky above you. 

Rav glanced over at you. "Are you alright?" 

You nodded, staring out of the window, the quaint town looking entirely different to you now. 

The Poplar and Dove. Why did pubs always have such odd names? What did trees and birds have to do with beer, fruit machines and sticky carpets? 

You stood under the awning of the pub, wringing your hands nervously as you waited for 8pm to come. You'd gotten there earlier than you'd meant to, and though you could have just gone inside, you couldn't bring yourself to seem eager. 

You wished you'd packed nicer clothes than the t-shirt, long denim skirt and trainers you were wearing. But as a man stumbled out onto the street in oil-covered overalls and work boots, you almost felt overdressed.

It was 8:01 when you finally drew in a deep, anxious breath and went inside, the smell of beer hitting you like a boozy cloud as you pushed through the doors. It was quieter than you'd expected; a low hum of conversation as a television played quietly above the bar, an old song drifting from a jukebox in the corner. You slipped through a group of men, their hands and faces smattered with motor oil like the one you'd seen outside.

You tried to not make it obvious you were looking around, standing at the bar as you scanned the room quickly. What if he didn't come? What if he'd changed his mind at the last minute and stood you up? You'd have no one to blame but yourself; already dreading telling your sister you'd agreed to this at all.

"Ellis!"

You turned to see him in the corner, pointing to a drink on the table in front of him and waving you over. You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, pushing through another group of people to get to him. 

"Rum and Coke," he said as you sat down opposite him. "I hope that's still...?" 

"Yeah, yes. That's great. Thanks." You hooked your bag onto the back of the chair and took a sip - the rum was spiced, your favourite kind. 

He was even more beautiful than you remembered, and it annoyed you greatly. His casual shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he clasped his long fingers together in front of him. His curls were fluffy, falling slightly over his brow and framing his eyes. 

Those eyes. God. You took an extra sip of your drink. 

"Thank you for showing up," he said.

You gave a halfhearted smile.

"I know I don't deserve it..." 

There was a lull; an awkward pause as you both shifted in your seats. There'd never been an uncomfortable silence between you before. Even in the moments no one spoke, it was always pleasant, content. 

"So, what's it like around here?" you asked. 

His eyes rounded for a moment, like he was taken aback, not expecting you to make small talk. You weren't expecting yourself to make small talk either. 

"It's, er, It's- Nice," he said. "The parish is a lot bigger, so more work. But the town itself is... It's quiet." 

You nodded. 

"Why did your friends choose it for their wedding?" he asked.

"Camilla - the bride - grew up here." 

"No way," he laughed softly. "How did you meet her?" 

"Through a work thing. And Rav's my downstairs neighbour. I introduced them." 

"Ah, so you're basically Cupid." 

"I expect they'll be naming their first born Ellis," you said, unable to resist a smile. 

You'd planned to walk into that pub with fire in your belly, venom on your tongue. You'd gone over the things you wanted to say in the shower, practiced arguing with him in the mirror as you got ready. Yet there was something about him, like a sedative, that made it impossible to do anything but talk. 

"So Camilla's a photographer?" he asked between sips of his drink. "Editor?" 

"Oh, erm, no. I don't work at the studio anymore," you replied. "I'm a freelance book cover designer now; met her at a publishing thing." 

He smiled proudly. "You always wanted to do that." 

"I did." 

"Congratulations." 

"Thanks." you said shyly, bringing the glass to your lips. 

"Is that a tattoo?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." You lifted the sleeve of your t-shirt to reveal a small, fine ink design on the inside of your upper arm. 

He leaned forward slightly, squinting to look at it more closely. 

"Why?" you asked. "Is it like... A cardinal sin or something?"

"No, I just couldn't see what it was." He laughed and relaxed back into his seat. "I like it." 

"Thanks. I've got another one as well, but if I tried to show you that we'd probably get kicked out." 

There was a subtle glint in his eye, making you realise what you'd said.

"I didn't mean for that to sound so..." You shook your head. "Sorry."

He chuckled quietly. "There's a guy in my congregation; biggest, buffest guy you've ever seen. Bald head, covered, and I mean covered in tattoos. And when I tell you he is the sweetest, gentlest most devoutly catholic man I've ever met, it's incredible."

"I bet he gives really good hugs."

"Oh absolutely."

You clinked your nails against the side of your glass, filling another awkward silence, letting the last of the nervous energy out through your fingertips. 

"How's your sister?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's good," you replied. "She actually just had another baby."

"She did? Oh that's wonderful." 

"Mhm, a few months ago. Another girl." 

"What's her name?" 

You glared at him, pressing your lips together reluctantly. 

"Oh come on, it can't possibly be more out there than Soleil," he laughed.

"Eulalie." 

"You-lay-what?" 

You giggled. "Eulalie. It's French as well, apparently." 

"Well, they certainly love a unique name, don't they." 

"I know. I'm going to have to call my kid Keith or something, just to restore the balance." 

"Ah, little baby Keith." 

You lifted your glass, speaking before taking another sip. "What's the worst name you've ever baptised?" 

"I'm sure we've had this exact conversation before." 

"I don't think so." 

"We have. The woman with the twins?" 

You shook your head, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to think back. 

"I definitely told you. Don't you remember? We were lying in bed one night and..." he faltered suddenly, losing his train of thought and pressing his fingers to his mouth to disguise it. 

You wondered if the memory of you in his bed was too painful, or perhaps it was just embarrassing, an uncomfortable reminder of how close you once were. 

"Were they called something like Paco and Rabanne?" you asked. 

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing again. "Dolce and Gabbana." 

"That's it. Yes, I do remember. Those poor children." 

He smiled before shifting in his seat, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and pulling out his wallet and keys. He placed the keys on the table and opened the wallet, sifting for money.

"Are you still driving the old car?" you asked, gesturing to the keys.

"Nope." He grinned. "And this new bad boy I've got has - get this - a working passenger door and air-con that actually blows cold air."

You gave a sarcastic, impressed whistle. "Living the dream." 

"I know. It's funny, when I bought it my first thought was 'Ellis would love this'."

"Why?" 

"Because it's an automatic so you wouldn't be able to stall it." 

You rolled your eyes. "Well actually, I have my license now, and I drive a Lamborghini, so..." 

"Really?" 

"Obviously not." 

"Fuck sake." He burst into laughter. "Do you want another drink?" 

You looked down at your rum and coke, surprised to see how much you'd already drank. You promised yourself you'd only stay for one. Yet there you were, nodding and watching him walk up to the bar to buy you another. 

It was hard to connect him to the man who'd left you broken and confused eighteen months ago. Hard to accept that as he laughed at your jokes and asked about your family, there was a part of him that was capable of such carelessness and cruelty. 

"Here you go," he said, placing a new drink in front of you.

You looked down at it for a moment, then up to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" 

His face softened, the smile he'd sat down with falling away. 

"Come on, you knew I was going to ask at some point." You shrugged.

He remained quiet, rubbing his mouth in deliberation. "I..." He inhaled through his nose, letting it out again slowly. "I didn't decide to leave until that last night. I know that doesn't make it any better, but I swear to you it wasn't some big, thought-out departure I'd planned ages in advance. I just... I got scared." 

"Scared of what?" 

He paused. "There was a moment that night when we were sitting together; I told you there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with you. And suddenly it dawned on me; Fuck, I am falling in love with this woman. I've made a vow of clerical celibacy, a vow to devote myself to the church and to God and to put that before anything else in my life. Yet here I am, wanting to be nowhere else but with her..."

You stayed quiet, watching him fidget with his hands as he spoke. 

"I knew then that I couldn't stay." He lowered his voice. "So I did the terribly selfish thing of giving myself one last night with you. I made love to you, I kissed you before I left the next morning, and I suppose in a way I convinced myself that that was the goodbye." 

You swallowed. "If I hadn't randomly turned up here today, you'd have let me live the rest of my life not knowing any of that..." 

"I know. And trust me, Ellis, not a day has gone by where I haven't hated myself for it. But the way I would have loved you.... I have no doubt it would've eclipsed everything." He tilted his head to catch your gaze with his own. "I had to get away." 

You wrapped your hands around the glass in front of you, straightening your spine and clearing your throat. His words were like whiskey; his confession a painful burn, the truth a soothing warmth. Your only fault had been that you were loved, and you couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would have been to know that; perhaps you wouldn't have spent so long sitting alone in the dark. 

"Do you not think I deserved to know that?" you asked.

"Of course. But would it have made it any easier?" 

"Well... I'm not sure there's any easy of way of hearing someone say they'd rather be celibate than with you."

He shook his head, chewing his lip to hold back a smirk. "That's not fair." 

"I have a year and a half of pent up anger inside me. Let me make jokes." 

"Fair enough." 

You scanned his face, finishing off your first drink before moving swiftly to the second. "Are you happy with the decision you made?" 

He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden, roaring cheer erupted through the pub. You looked over your shoulder, watching the group of men celebrating a goal on TV. They bounced around, throwing their arms around each other as lager splashed over the rims of their glasses.

When you turned back to Father Benedict, he was smiling at them, laughing softly as he watched their roistering from across the room. But there was something melancholic about his expression; no lines in his cheeks, no crinkle between his brows or at the corners of his eyes. 

He returned his attention to you, realising you'd been watching him. "Not as happy as that," he said. 

You exhaled a laugh. 

"Ellis, I... I can't tell you how many times I've thought about what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again. The truth of the matter is, I don't know. I don't know if I'm dedicating my life to a God that doesn't exist. I don't know if any of it's real, I have no proof. But I really fucking hope it is. And what I do know is that I chose to become a priest because it allows me to help people, and inspire and encourage and share that hope with them, every single day." He paused. "I just never predicted I'd meet you."

You picked up your glass, swirling the ice around, making the liquid bubble and fizz. Then you sighed, meeting his gaze again. "I get it," you said. "I do, I get it. One of us would always have had to give up a part of themselves to be with the other. Either you would've had to leave clergy, or I'd have had to concede to being someone's secret lover for the rest of my life. And let's face it, neither of us would've expected that of the other." 

He looked sad, brows curved upwards over glistening eyes.

"Right person, wrong... everything else." You shrugged. "Our paths just crossed too late." 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving you. 

"I just hope you know that the collar you wear isn't what makes you a good person," you said. "You gave me hope when I really needed it. And that had nothing to do with God or church or sermons... It was you." 

He smiled, before dropping his head and clearing his throat. "You're being far more gracious to me than I deserve." 

"I know."

The TV above the bar was muted, the jukebox switched off. A strong smell of lemon disinfectant drifted through the air as a barmaid pushed around a mop bucket, another collecting glasses and wiping down surfaces. There was no one left, the lights raised to full brightness, chairs stacked on tables around you like the battlement walls of a castle. 

You'd talked through the end of the football match, through the noise of drunken punters and the bell for last orders. You'd talked as the crowds dwindled away, as the sky turned black beyond the windows and your glasses emptied to dregs of melted ice. 

It was like no time had passed since he left. You'd never understood that expression before; how could absence not change things? How could a river erode with time and water still flow the same way? But you got it now. With every joke he laughed at, every facial expression he understood and insignificant detail he remembered, it was clear your bond had never severed. It had just been frozen, lying in wait until something came to thaw it out. 

He was covering his face as you spoke, shoulders shaking as he laughed into his hands. 

"It's true!" you said. "They called the police and everything." 

"They did not call the police!" His laugh grew heartier, tears forming in his eyes.

"They did! I had to sit and explain to two uniformed officers that I hadn't meant to walk out of the shop with the coat on."

"Why were you even wearing it?" 

"I tried it on as a joke because it was so fucking ugly. Then Soleil decided to turn into Usain bloody Bolt and run outside at full speed into the busy street." 

A tear spilled onto his cheek. He wiped it away, still chuckling to himself. 

"I told Mara she was nuts for trusting me with her child," you said.

"Maybe next time try a soft play centre or a park, y'know, instead of a high end clothing shop." 

"Well you just have all the answers, don't you." 

He smiled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Just giving you some advice so you don't go losing Keith in a Selfridges one day." 

You laughed. "Keith will be kept on one of those baby leashes until he's eighteen." 

You could feel a hair on the side of your nose, rubbing your finger over it a few times. He began speaking, but you couldn't concentrate, the itch on your skin too distracting. You tried to wipe it away again. 

"Because then I went-" He stopped. "What's the matter?" 

"There's something on my face, it's driving me mad." 

He sat forward, gesturing for you to lean over the table to him. You did as he instructed, watching as he brought his face close to yours, examining the side of your nose for a moment before seeming to lose focus, his eyes softening as they trailed slowly from your eyes to your lips then back again. 

"Father," you said. "I'm going to say something you used to say to me all the time." 

"What's that?" 

"You need to stop looking at me like that..." 

He dropped his head and breathed out a laugh. "I apologise," he said, gently pressing the tip of his finger to the side of your nose, holding it up to show you a small black wisp. "Eyelash." 

"Thanks," you replied, sitting back down. 

"You know you can just call me Ben, by the way," he said. 

"I know, but, I don't-" You shrugged shyly. "I only ever really called you that when we were..." 

"Ah." 

"Yeah..." 

"Excuse me, guys," said one of the barmaids as she approached your table. "We're going to be locking up in a few minutes." 

Father Benedict glanced around the deserted pub, the wet floors and stacked chairs. "Oh, god, sorry. We didn't even realise-"

"It's okay," she replied kindly. "You looked like you were having a nice time, we didn't want to disturb you." 

"Thank you, we'll get out of your way." 

You stood up, grabbing your bag and hooking it over your shoulder as Father Benedict lifted his chair onto the table, making his way around to yours and doing the same. The women behind the bar smiled appreciatively as one of them unlocked the door to let you out. You almost felt embarrassed that you'd let yourself get so carried away, talking so far past closing time, your conversation the only sound inside the empty pub. 

You stepped out into the dark, chilly night, light rain falling in a mist that glittered under the streetlights. You crossed your arms over your chest to hide your nipples, suddenly very aware of how thin your t-shirt was. The street was quiet, the church nothing but a dark, imposing silhouette on the other side of the road. 

"Where are you staying?" asked Father Benedict. "I only had a couple of drinks so I can drive you wherever you need to go." 

"Oh, no, don't worry. My Airbnb's not far from here so I'm just going to walk." 

He furrowed his brow. "They have Airbnbs around here?" 

You laughed. "Yeah, it's just a little cottage, nothing fancy."

"Well I'll walk you." 

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." 

"Of course I'm sure, come on." 

You walked most of the way in silence, your impending separation like a thick cloud in the air between you. Were you to simply say goodbye? No hard feelings? See you in June for the wedding?

The cobbled roads glistened like oil in the gentle rain, the houses quiet, as though the entire town had gone to sleep. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes straight ahead. When the road was on your left, he would walk on your left, and when it was on the right, he would move again, always keeping you on the inside despite there not being a single car. 

You pointed to a row of small terraced cottages at the bottom of a steep lane. "That's me down there." 

"Which one?" 

"Hanging baskets, right at the end." 

"Wow, you weren't joking when you said it was small." 

You exhaled a short laugh. "It's all I need. Only staying two nights." 

When you arrived at the cottage, you stopped at the gate, placing a hand on it and turning to look up at him. 

"Well this was... weird," you said.

"Very," he replied. "But also really great." 

"Yeah." You paused. "Thank you for the drinks, and for walking me home." 

He smiled, but the expression quickly grew forlorn as he stared down at you. You kept your hand on the gate as you waited for him to speak, a part of you willing yourself to just go inside, while another needed to know what he was thinking.

"What?" you asked. "Do I have another eyelash on my face?" 

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I've missed you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. 

You sighed. "You can't say that." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's not fair. You've known where to find me... This whole time, you've known exactly where..." Your voice trailed off. 

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I told you why I couldn't come back-"

"And I said I understand. I do. But you made a choice. So you... You don't get to tell me you've missed me." You remained gentle, calm. "You can't act like something's been keeping us apart when the thing keeping us apart is you." 

"The thing keeping us apart is my vow."

"And so go and live by your vow, Father. Go and live your pious, solitary life. I am truly sorry I ever jeopardised that for you." 

He scoffed slightly. "There's no need to be sarcastic." 

"Wh-? I'm not. I'm really not." You pulled the gate shut again, turning to face him fully. "But surely you understand how much it hurts to know you see loving me and worshipping God as some kind of contradiction?" 

"I see loving you as the most easy thing I could've ever done." His voice was harsh yet quiet, frustration laced in a whisper. "But choosing to leave the clergy, to break the promises I made when I was ordained; that would've been the consequence of it."

"And I've already told you I wouldn't have expected you to do that. I understand your decision-"

"But you don't, Ellis. Not if you can stand there and tell me I don't get to say I miss you." 

You slowed your breathing, calming yourself before looking up at him. "If you truly missed me, it wouldn't have taken me randomly turning up here today for you to realise it." 

"I didn't have to realise it, because it's never not been the case." He took a step closer, speaking with more passion, intensity in his eyes. "Not a single day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. Where I haven't questioned if I made the right decision. You asked me earlier if I was happy with the choice I made, and the truth is... I don't know. Because my resolve has wavered so much more over the past eighteen months than it ever did before I left."

"And what changes now that I know that?" you replied. "Nothing. You're still going to go back to that church and I'm still going to go home on Friday. Alone."

"I don't- I don't know, I just... When I saw you there today in my church, there were ten or so minutes where I really, honestly thought you were marrying someone else," he shook his head. "And I wasn't happy for you, Ellis. I was... devastated." 

"And when you realised I was actually single, how did you feel then?" 

He blinked a few times, brows coming together, forming a crinkle at the bridge of his nose. "I felt..." 

"You felt...?" 

"Ellis you know that's not fair to ask-"

"But everything you've said to me in the last five minutes is fair?" 

You were getting angry now. The rage you'd planned to unload on him in the pub bubbling in the base of your chest. He ran away from you. Tore you apart and left you strewn across the rectory flowerbed in pieces. Now you'd finally bloomed again, and here he was, plucking at your petals. 

"Do you know what, I don't want to do this anymore," you said as you opened the gate and stepped through. "I knew meeting you tonight was a bad idea."

"Because I told you I've missed you?" he called out behind you.

You stopped and spun around. "Because everything you're saying is for your own benefit, not mine! To- to- to make yourself feel better, to unload how you feel onto me even though you know it doesn't change your decision." 

"So what would you prefer I do, Ellis? Not say anything? Walk you home and leave without another word?" 

"I'd prefer you to just fuck off," you snapped, taking in a sharp breath, stunned by your own words.

"You want me to fuck off..." he replied in dry disbelief, taking a few steps down the path towards you.

"Yes. Fuck off. Go away." Your voice quivered. You waved your hand at him dismissively and walked to the front door. "Just... Let me forget about you."

You fished through your bag with shaking hands, finding the key and struggling to push it into the lock. His eyes were on you, you could feel them, like a hand around the back of your neck. You unlocked the door and pushed it open before looking over your shoulder at him. 

"There's a reason you haven't walked away yet," you said, stepping into the cottage and turning around, placing your hand on the door and preparing to close it. "You want permission. You want to hear me ask you to choose me. But that's never going to happen. I have too much respect for myself to ever do that." 

You took a step back and swung the door shut, but there was a hard thump as it hit something on the other side, stopping it from fully closing. You pulled it back to see him standing there, palm planted against it, foot halfway over the threshold. His chest was heaving, nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. 

You stared up at him, unable to resist giving an insolent shrug, a brattish shake of your head. It seemed to annoy him even more, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

"Wh-"

He interrupted you with a sudden kiss, his hand gripping the back of your head as his lips pressed firmly against yours. You lost yourself for a moment, swept away in the passion of the unexpected rush. Your mouth began to move in time with his, hot breath and sweeping tongues, but then you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and gently pushing him away. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to quell the anger rising up your throat, before glaring at him through your lashes. His face was still close, lips parted, eyes glassy. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn't; any sense of logic you possessed clouded by impulse. 

You gave in, letting your body take over, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a fevered, forceful kiss. He curled his fingers into your hair, holding it in fistfuls as you stumbled back into the cottage. You slammed the front door, grabbing him by the shirt as you moved in a mess of teeth and tongues, fingernails and clumsy missteps through the small, open living space. 

Your backside made contact with a dining table first. He gripped your hips and lifted you onto it as you continued to kiss with unwavering ferocity. You began pulling at your skirt, working impatiently to drag the heavy, stiff material up your legs as he used one hand to unbutton his trousers, the other helping to push the skirt over your thighs. His breaths were heavy, laboured, pouring into your open mouth as he freed himself from his underwear, like he'd been aching, desperate for release. 

You reached down and slid your fingers into your underwear, the thin cotton so wet it gave little resistance as you moved it to one side, parting your legs wider to let him stand between them. His lips broke away from yours, just long enough to spit into his hand, coating the head of his cock before sweeping you back into another kiss.

He slid the tip along the seam of your pussy, using his hand to guide it inside you. You gasped at the stretch, the dull burn and intense pressure. You'd only slept with a couple of people since he'd been gone; a one night stand, and a short-lived fling that fizzled out after a few dates. Neither of them matched up to him. Not in size, nor skill. So much so that you'd almost convinced yourself he wasn't as good as you remembered. 

You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he sank his full length into you, the walls of your pussy moulding to the shape of him, softening, lubricating to welcome the intrusion. His throat rumbled with a groan, a hum falling from his lips as he kissed you, fucking you with a hard, steady rhythm. You whimpered into his mouth, sliding your hands down to grip his backside, encouraging him to thrust harder, deeper. He planted a palm on the table beside you to steady himself, pressing his chest against yours as he moved with more force, each snap of his hips sending a jolt through your core, making the table rock and creak beneath you. 

Your mind was blank, clouded and hazy as your body welled with pleasure; a tingling in your clit and a deep, intense pulsing in your core. You were going to be swollen after this, bruised, sensitive. But you didn't care; there was an anger inside you that you had to extinguish, and with each slam of his body against yours, you were getting closer to putting it out. 

Your body began to tense and tighten, each slide of his cock met with a growing resistance, making him breathe quickly as he worked harder to maintain his thrusts. Your thighs came together, squeezing his hips as waves of electricity began to thrash in your pelvis. He growled and grabbed your legs, forcing them apart again, and you let out a heavy moan as he sank deeper, hitting the spots that sent you floating on the precipice between pleasure and pain. 

Your back arched, and with another brush of his cock, you fell apart. He hid his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself completely, giving in to his own orgasm as you came around him. You were shaking, your bottom lip chattering like you'd been caught in a blizzard. Every time he shifted or twitched, the echoes of your climax would ring through you, making you shudder, goosebumps pricking your arms. 

The room was suddenly so quiet in the clarity, only the rushing of your breaths and the pulse pounding in your ears filling the silence. He lifted his head and carefully pulled out of you, your centre immediately feeling tender and raw in his absence. You glanced up at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye, and you suddenly felt nauseous. 

You slid off the edge of the table onto your feet, readjusting your underwear and pulling your skirt back down. He stayed beside you, buttoning his trousers as he kept his head down, staring at the table and pensively biting his lip. You looked at him again, and when he finally looked back, you knew; the same remorseful expression you'd seen so many times before. A face full of regret, shame, disappointment in his own lack of restraint. You sighed and shook your head, walking off into the next room, trying to ignore your shaking legs and the lump in your throat. 

You stood in the small sitting room, looking out the window into the dark back garden. You felt a tear fall down your cheek, the droplet tickling your skin as it clung to the edge of your jaw. Your lip wobbled, but you bit it to keep it still, sniffing sharply.

"Ellis...?" His voice was so soft and gentle, his footsteps light as he entered the room behind you. 

"Just go, Ben," you replied weakly, too numb to even try to turn around. 

He paused at the sound of his name on your lips. Then he took another few tentative steps towards you. 

"Please, just..." You sighed. "You... broke me. Not just when you left, but every time you treated me like a mistake." 

"You're not a mistake. You were never a mistake." 

"Was that a mistake?" You turned around, nodding towards the other room. 

He hesitated. 

"Exactly," you said. "Getting over you was the hardest thing I have ever done. And all it took was one day for me to end up right back where I started." 

"It wasn't a mistake," he whispered. "I just... I suppose I wish I'd been more... forbearing. Made it mean something, y'know. I don't regret what just happened. I regret the way it happened." 

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to cry. But another single tear betrayed you. 

"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I can't- I never wanted to-" He sighed, walking over and wrapping his arms around you. 

You resisted at first, but you quickly yielded, letting your head fall on his chest, your arms tucked in the space between your bodies. He cradled you in his large embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I love you, Ellis." 

You closed your eyes, his words stinging as much they soothed. 

"Right person, wrong everything else," he said. 

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