#“I NEED you... to understand” and then“and I need you... to STOP needing me... like I needed you... we both need to........... tend to

[y3sterdaysproblem]

stuck with u - c.s.

takes place after this

cw: smut, angst, chris being toxic, p!link

wc: 2.8k

part of the toxic!fwb!chris series

he’s here again, just like you knew he would be.

he blows you off, hurts you more than you ever thought he’d be able to and then once you’re ready to walk away, he comes crawling back and begs for forgiveness, tells you that he just needs a little more time to figure things out.

it never made sense to you. you were under the impression you’d both stopped sleeping with other people, you spent time together without sex being involved and he did things for you that he never used to do before he knew how you felt.

he’d rub your feet after a long day at work, hold you close when your emotions got the best of you, even make you food to the best of his abilities if you were too lazy to get up.

why wouldn’t he just bite the bullet and tell you how he feels, too? part of you desperately hoped that things would change this time, that this would be the moment that he finally gets the balls to admit what you both know is true.

sure, you had your issues, your own toxic traits like sleeping around when things got hard, looking for comfort in a man when you couldn’t face reality, deflecting when you couldn’t win an argument, acting like you could never be wrong. all of this extended so far past chris, it seeped into your every day life, relationships that meant even more to you than this one, but being around him felt like maybe it would be worth it to try and not be so bitter, so awful.

chris texts you to tell you he’s arrived and you’re at your door in the next ten seconds, pulling it open to reveal him on the other side.

you’re beyond shocked when you see a bouquet of flowers in his hand, your favorites, held out as he grinned sheepishly. “hi,” he says, stepping into the threshold. “hi…” you answer breathlessly as you watch him come closer.

he looked good, exactly how he knew you liked him. baggy, blue jeans, knees ripped up slightly, dirty air force ones on his feet, black hoodie zipped up halfway on top of a black t-shirt and a snapback flipped around on his head, curly hair peeking out the bottom.

he steps into your apartment and immediately presses his lips to your cheek, letting them linger while his hand pushed the door shut behind him. “i’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, wrapping his arms around you, bouquet resting against your back.

you sigh, wanting to melt into him but needing to hold your ground. “for what?” you ask, stepping out of his grasp to turn and walk away, heading to your bedroom to curl up in bed while he inevitably tried to save things again.

chris follows you, setting the flowers down on your table as he passes it. when you guys get into the bedroom, he looks around, noticing that it looked slightly more disheveled than it usually did. “for last night,” he says like it’s obvious, watching you move to sit on the edge of the bed. “for ditching you when i said i’d be there. i don’t mean to make you feel like you’re not important.”

here he goes, his typical spiel when it comes to gluing things back together. you stare up at him, expression blank. you’re exhausted, all the back and forth finally catching up with you. you didn’t understand how he wasn’t tired of all of this, too.

“chris,” you sigh, shaking your head as you scratch at your scalp, messy bun wobbling with your actions. “i think it might be time we call this.”

he looks taken aback, head pulling back slightly in shock. “what are you talking about?” he asks, coming closer until he can sit next to you in bed. “why would we do that?”

you don’t want to look at him but his presence is so demanding any time he’s around you that it’s like your eyes are just drawn to him, your body turning to face his. “because it’s exhausting, chris. i can’t keep doing this and acting like it doesn’t fucking suck. you act like my boyfriend and then turn around and do some shit that fucks me up so bad i feel like i’m crazy! i let my guard down and then you do some shit like go hang out with girls you don’t even know when you’re supposed to be with me.”

“i didn’t know there were gonna be more girls there,” chris groans, knowing exactly what this was about to turn into. but you didn’t want an argument, you just wanted to be done. “come on, it’s not like i did anything with them.”

you stare at chris, not quite believing him and he senses this. “you were drunk around girls and you didn’t do anything?” you ask him, raising your eyebrows slightly, tone flat. “would matt say the same thing?”

“yes,” chris says instantly and his answer shocks you. he sounded so confident that matt would corroborate his story. “i thought about you the whole fucking night. i felt terrible. i was sitting in the corner of the room by myself texting you, trying to call you, waiting for you to just text me back.”

his hand comes out to rest on your thigh that faced him and you knew you should’ve pushed him off, but something about the way he spoke to you had you believing him, a mistake you seemed to make every time you found yourself in this position.

“chris-“ you start, but he interrupts you, turning his body to face yours as well. “i know you don’t believe me, but you can ask him. you know matt would never lie to you.” he sighs, seemingly distressed.

you’ve never seen him like this, this worried. “you know how hard all of this is for me but i’m trying,” chris continues, his other hand coming out to grab one of yours. “i’m trying. i want… fuck, i don’t know. i want you in a way i’ve never wanted anybody else before and that scares me. i’m used to fucking things up, ruining anything good that happens to me but i talk about you all the time, even when i don’t realize i’m doing it. you’re constantly on my mind.”

you stare at him, your eyes searching his for a thread of honesty, and it terrified you how truthful and remorseful he looked. “chris…” you sigh again, and once more he scoots closer, tightening his grip on your thigh. “i can’t do this-“

“stop,” he interrupts, dropping your hand from his to reach up and tuck a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, wanting to take in your full appearance no matter how disheveled you seemed. “you don’t mean that, you’re just mad at me. listen when i tell you that i’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”

“but it will happen again!” you huff as you push his hand away from your face. “that’s the problem. it’ll always happen again with you and i’m sick of it. all this back and forth, all these emotions that come with being around you, it’s exhausting. i never know what version of you i’m going to get, and sure, it’s been a lot better recently but for what? you’re never gonna be my boyfriend, so why waste my time falling for you more and more when you’re just gonna run off some day?”

chris seems taken aback at your words, his hand that rubbed over your skin pausing for a few moments as he thought of what to say. “why… why do we have to label anything? we enjoy being around each other, we’re not sleeping with anybody else, can’t you just give me time to figure out what it is that i want?”

you sigh, expecting nothing more than to hear him say those words. time. that’s all he ever asked for was time. “i’ve given you time,” you say quietly, defeated. “i’m out of time. i can’t do this.”

he shakes his head, not accepting this answer and he moves quicker than you can stop him, pinning your body down to your bed, his hips settling between your thighs familiarly. “don’t push me away,” chris breathes out, voice full of desperation as he looks down at your wide eyed expression. “come on, you don’t mean this. i’ll get better, i swear. give me another chance.”

you’re about to speak, about to push him away and tell him to fuck off, that you’re serious this time, but when his lips come down and start pressing against your jaw, kissing down to your neck the way he knows you love, the only sound that comes out of you is a whiny breath, head tilting away from him as your eyes flutter.

“there’s my girl,” he whispers against your skin, one of his hands sliding up underneath your tank top, his cold fingers triggering goosebumps on your stomach. “i know you don’t want me to leave. you’d just embarrass yourself anyway when you beg me to come back, tellin’ me nobody else can make you feel like i can. just let me stick around and i’ll make it worth it.”

you reach up to hold onto his biceps, torn between pushing him away and just pulling him closer, but you were never strong enough to push him off of you, especially not right now when it’s been so long, when you craved him so badly. “chris,” you breathe out and you feel his lips curl up as they kiss against your collarbone now, teeth nipping gently at your skin.

“what, baby?” he coos, tone almost mocking as he pushes your tank top over your tits, moving his mouth down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, moaning as he flattened his tongue against you. he craved you just as badly as you craved him if not more.

chris pops his lips off of you, staring down at spit slicked skin. every part of you always tasted so good, whether you had just gotten out of the shower or were covered in a sheen of sweat, he loved having his mouth whenever he could on you, but now as he looked at you, chest already rising and falling as you watched him, too, he needed more.

chris scoots down the bed and wastes no time in slipping your shorts and panties down your legs with your help, throwing them onto the floor haphazardly. you instinctively spread your legs for him the second you were unrestricted, not missing the slight smirk on his face when he saw the slightest glisten in your folds.

“shut up,” you say sternly, wanting nothing more than to smack the look right off of his face. “i didn’t say anything,” chris hums with a prideful shrug, taking off his hoodie and throwing it somewhere as well before he grabs both of your thighs and pushes them up, leaning in and immediately attaching his lips to your pussy.

filthy moans slip from both of your mouths, yours a sound of relief at the feeling of him finally settling where you needed him most and his a hungry groan of desire. despite how toxic things always got between you two, you’d always give into him, unable to stand your ground very long when you would tell him things needed to change.

he ate you out like a man starved, loud slurping noises filling the air as his fingers dug into your skin, holding your thighs apart to keep you spread underneath him.

you reach down and pull the hat off of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair immediately like they always do, holding his face close and refusing to let him move away as he devoured you, deep groans of satisfaction rolling from his lips with every taste.

“f-fuck, chris, i’m not letting you off this easy,” you choke out, voice strained as you throw your head back into your pillow. he doesn’t answer, only hums and slides one hand up until he’s able to dip two fingers inside of you, forcing your thoughts even further back in your head. “oh my- yes, right there.”

his fingers curl and twist inside of you just like he knows you love, tongue still working tirelessly on your clit, bringing you close to the edge faster than anyone else has ever been able to do. chris has always been so good at making you feel good, his tongue, fingers, his dick always taking you to heights you’d never even been able to imagine prior to him, and that fact didn’t change now, even as you tried to cut him off and end things, he was still the only one that could make you feel like this.

just as you’re approaching your climax, chris pulls off and slips his fingers out of you, sliding up the bed between your legs. his free hand comes up to grip your jaw, forcing you to peel your eyes open and look at him as he presses his two middle fingers against your clit and starts rubbing back and forth quickly, soaking in your desperate moans.

“you gonna cum for me?” he rasps, staring into your eyes as your face contorts from the pleasure, your thighs trying to close on either side of him. all you can do is nod while you grip onto the sheets, your orgasm plowing into you violently, entire body trembling.

chris coaxes you through it, only pulling his hand away when you started whimpering from overstimulation, but he only moves away to undo his belt and the button on his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull his cock from his briefs.

“gonna run your mouth ‘n sound all pathetic and whiny just to fall apart for me, huh?” he teases ruthlessly, wasting no time in burying himself to the hilt inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your walls still twitching from your orgasm.

“fuuuck,” chris breathes, his own eyes fluttering shut for a moment before reopening. you stare up at him helplessly, completely surrendered to him. he was right and you knew it. you’d always give it up to him.

chris reaches his hand for yours and untangles it from your bed sheets, pressing it into the pillow next to your head as he laces your fingers together, holding you tightly as he starts to fuck into you slowly.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m right where i belong, buried inside this pussy made for me, ruining you for anybody else.” he’s babbling mindlessly as his hips rock back and forth, your slick walls dragging obscenely over his length.

chris leans down and presses his lips to your jaw again, kissing your skin as he continued to whisper in your ear. “you want me to stay, don’t you? keep making you feel like this? i’m right here, baby, you can’t get rid of me. i’ll say whatever you wanna hear just so i can keep tasting you, keeping fucking you like you need me to so bad.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he speaks, his words soft but harsh at the same time, his fingers interlocked with yours overwhelming your senses. you were so close to having the relationship you wanted with him, but it felt so out of reach. you just needed him to be vulnerable and trust you.

chris pulls back and looks down at you, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek, fingers still slick with your arousal, the scent filling your nostrils as you sucked in a deep breath. “you look so fucking pretty when you cry,” he taunts, thumb brushing over your skin as a tear slips out. “just give me time, yeah? you know that’s all i need. you know exactly who i belong to.”

he emphasizes his sentence with a sharp thrust and the gasp that leaves your lips is all he needs for a switch to be flipped, his movements changing from soft and gentle to rough and fast, hips snapping in and out of you as he chased his orgasm now.

“come on, beautiful, give me another one before i show you who this pussy really belongs to.”

you’re completely at his mercy when his fingers work on your clit again, another orgasm cascading over you and triggering chris’s, a loud moan ripping out of him as he spills deep inside you, filling you up like he always does.

you lay there for a few moments, chest heaving as you come down, your hand still wrapped tight around chris’s as he does the same, his face dropping into your neck.

“still want me to go?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin and you can’t help but laugh breathlessly, your other hand coming up to smack the back of his head.

“shut the fuck up.”

a/n: yall fed??? or u need more. lmk. (i already know the answer)

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual content, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing, lots of hurt/comfort- This part- mentions of blood and violence, mentions of drugs, A TON of fluff, cute ass Satoru being the biggest green flag, fingering, oral (f recieving) shower and car sex, breed kink, multiple rounds - wc - 7.3k

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X, based on Satoru from Pour it Up

<<<part four - masterlist - playlist- Part six (FINAL)>>> (coming soon)

Part Five

Your brother was even more clueless and truly less involved than Satoru really knew, Suguru and him interrogated him, but he was so fucked up and scared, it really wasn’t worth it. He knew a bit about the debt with your mother and Mei, but was not reliable. So that left one more person, your mother herself, who Satoru promised to give money to anyway.

This isn’t how he thought the first meeting with your mom would be, waiting at a seedy little truck stop in the middle of town where she said she’d meet him. He hopes you won’t get mad, but you clearly need some better people in your life, and your family is really shitty. Your mom is a starved, drug addicted version of you, bits and pieces he sees where you came from, with dead eyes.

“You’re a Gojo, huh?” She asks then, cigarette in her hand. Gojo glares a bit at it, smirking and trying to hide his disgust.

“In the flesh. And you’re my girlfriend’s mom,” he says it lazily, drawing out the words as he eyes her, tilting his head. “Have a seat.”

She sits across from him in the booth, Satoru swallows down the guilt when he sees your message, asking how his morning is. He smiles at it quickly, texting you back and hoping you’ll understand. You’re too important to him now, he can’t just listen to you, not when you’re getting screwed over by the world and he can actually prevent it from happening.

“Who’d you really get in debt with?” She sputters.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not Mei, she’s a go between. So, who’d that gambling addiction really fall on?” She sighs now, looking away nervously at the clock ticking along the wall, fidgeting. “I can help you if you tell me.”

“I know all about you, the Gojo family, acting like you’re so much better when you’re the same.” He smirks, raising a thin brow.

“And you think you’re some great person, extorting your daughter, playing on her fucking feelings?”

“You don’t even know all I did raising her!” Her voice is high, agitated, he just calmly smiles.

“That’s your job, her job isn’t to take care of you. Do you even give a fuck about her?”

“No,” her words make him blink a bit. She sees what she’s done, covering it up, clearing her throat. “I mean of course I do.”

“Mmm, you’re very convincing,” he sips his coffee, holding the cup that looks stupidly small in his hands and leaning back in the leather plush of the booth. “I can get your debts knocked down, if you leave her alone for good.”

She blinks then, leaning forward. “How much will you get knocked off?”

“With these fists? I can knock the whole thing out.” He cracks his knuckles, smiling now, and she tenses as she sees the sweet guy in front of her clearly is every bit a Gojo. “You’ll give your house and whatever else you own in your name 0to them, she won’t need it anymore.”

He hopes you’re also okay with that.

“I can do that, but I’ll need some money to run on until I get on my feet.” She pouts and puts on a look, he chuckles then, as if he didn’t already fucking know she’d ask for money.

“The condition is that you never ask her for money again, is that completely understood?” He slides over an envelope, she pauses then, nodding as she eyes the money with big eyes. “And don’t gamble it all the fuck away.”

“I won’t, I promise. I will disappear.” He nods, sipping his coffee again and watching her practically bounce out to her junky little car in the parking lot. He picks up the phone then, calling you.

“Don’t be mad.”

“Satoru, what now?”

“Just… meet me here?”

In about twenty minutes you’re walking in, his coffee is filled with fresh sweet mocha, and he’s already got food ordered for you. You sit right next to him, pressing a kiss on his cheek as he wraps an arm around you. He sighs when he feels you against him, right where you belong, while you hug him closely, and he presses little pecks along your brow.

“Hi baby,” he says then, and you smile, before glaring. “What? Eat.”

“You’re up to something,” you do start nibbling though, sighing, you’re in your pretty work outfit. “I am starving though so I’ll bite.”

“Good, you got a break?”

“I have an hour, Mr. Nanami is pretty cool though if you need more time,” he nods then, at least he doesn’t have to worry about that, not that he wanted you to even work much longer. “What’s up, Satoru, everything okay? Now you look tired, did I rub my dark circles on you?”

“Nah, they’re still there, under that concealer,” you glare again and he grins. “They’re hot, don’t worry.”

“As long as you think so,” you nibble the eggs and hum happily, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“It’s a trashy place but the food is actually amazing, right?” You nod and he smiles as you eat, hoping the food will help your mood before he tells you. “So, like you love me right?”

Your fork clatters to the plate, blushing as you look at him. “I… you… Satoru um I said…”

“Shush, I already know you do.” He touches your thigh with his big hand, right over your stockings, sighing. “I’d do shady things - well shadier than usual - to fuck you in that on your desk.”

“Satoru!” You cover his mouth, wildly looking around at the tired patrons there, and he just chuckles again, kissing your palm and holding your wrist then, long fingers wrapping around it. “You’re insane.”

“I know, another thing you love.”

“Shush.” You shove a bite of pancake into his pretty but big mouth, he laps his lips with his tongue to taste that syrup, and at the moment it’s too perfect.

You want too much, maybe things you’ll never have, things you never thought you could have, after that night in his arms on the boat, you have been dying to see him again. Just a couple days without him hurt physically, he’s pulling you to him like gravity, making you crave him constantly, more and more. You want to be free from this, he’s finally given you that hope, and it’s just scary.

“Maybe I do love you, what would you say about that?” You feed him another bite, and his blue eyes soften, as his hand grips tighter. “That it’s insane, that I barely know you?”

“Move in with me.”

“Wha-!?”

“Yeah, I was gonna say that better…” he rubs the back of his neck, as you’re both in this dinky, dingy dive place, shoving food in each other’s mouths as you confess things that are insane.

“You what now!?” He’s shoving more food in your mouth, nodding as he looks down at you, and you shove another bite in his. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I may have paid your mom off,” he chews and blushes more, bashful at your open mouth in surprise. “And promised your house to Mei, and maybe I’m about to help Sukuna beat the fuck out of the Zenin and wash away the rest of her debt?”

“Satoru - I… what?” You’re blinking at his words just spilling, he has a pretty blush on his cheeks then, as if he’d admitted some cute little embarrassing moment of his life, not a full ass insane proposal. “You saw my mom?”

“Right before you, she was… she’s a bitch.” You can’t help but snort a bit, shaking your head and sipping on the coffee getting cooled by the fans above swirling in circles, barely cooling you down yourself. “To say the least.”

“She is, she’s always been though.”

“Well, I don’t let anyone hurt who I care for, so I’m sorry but I won’t fucking stand for it, okay?” You blink back emotions, torn between thanking him, asking him questions and kissing him - every emotion you can imagine. “I know I’m too involved, I know none of this is your permission. I’m like a red flag.”

“You’re so not a red flag, maybe an intimidating green one.” He smirks again, you cup his face gently, leaning closer to him in the booth, feeling his big hand on the small of your back. “How much did you have to give her?”

“It’s not shit for me, I bought a boat for a date.”

“True… you’re crazy, y’know?” He pouts so cute at you, the man you fell in love with so quickly it still feels like a fucking whirlwind, you’ve hardly had time to process this face.

“Does that mean you won’t move with me? If not, I’ll get you a place and pay for it for you. But the house needs to go, not just for the debt, it needs to be gone for you, it’s a fucking ghost of a house, okay?” His words hit deep, how someone who just met you knows more than anyone touches you deeply.

You’re close to crying at his words, the tears burning your eyes, when he holds you against him, your arm wraps his narrow waist, burying your face against his chest and sighing. “What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Just exist, that’s enough for me,” you lean up and kiss him, igniting the spark that’s always there around him, he exhales as he pulls back, hands gripping your body even tighter. “Is this a yes?”

“What if you hate living with me? What if I snore really bad-”

“You already do.”

“Hey! What if I’m messy?”

“Your place is clean.”

“What if I suck at cooking?”

“I have a chef.”

“Satoru,” he has an answer for it all. “You sure?”

“It’s the best way to always keep you safe - in fact marriage would be preferable, but I didn’t wanna unload all of it today. But living with me, you’ll be protected from anyone who has it out for her, or your brother. He’s also quite a character, ya sure there’s no criminal in you?”

“Maybe a bit,” you tease, he smiles then, as you take a shaky breath, feeling your pulse race from his proximity. “I don’t want you to regret asking me, then I’m a… burden.”

“Sweetheart,” he caresses your cheek, shaking his head. “You could never be a burden to me, okay?”

“Come here.” You kiss him again, pulling back and running your fingers through his silky white locks. “You know no boundaries.”

“I know,” he smiles though, as you kiss him again. “You love that.”

“When do I move in?”

“Shit, yeah?” You nod, and he grins way too big. “What if it’s all a trap, and I never let you go?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” your words are genuine, so sweet then, he melts even more for you. “You’ll have to evict my ass.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna pester me?” You nod, making him kiss your nose and chuckle as it scrunches up, feeling so good in his arms it should be more scary.

“All the time. When will this happen?”

“You barely have shit to pack, I’ll help you bring some things over tomorrow. Tonight I have… to deal with things.” His words get quiet, panic sets in as he says it then, you tense at his words and their implications.

“Deal with things?”

“I’ll meet you at the club after, okay?” You frown now, thinking about the danger the boy you literally love could be in. “Don’t worry about me, I’m kind of a badass.”

“You’re just a little cutie.”

“Psh. I’ll show you cute,” he’s scowling and it’s too cute, when he presses another kiss on your lips. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be waiting, then. Probably panicking.”

“You’ll be the first one I see when I’m done, okay?” You nod again, snuggling against him, lost in the little world with him until you know you have to leave.

“Okay I’m going to work, Mr. Fix it.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, people tend to be motivated by money or threats, I happen to have both.”

“Big, Bad Satoru.” You earn a playful little pinch, as he walks you over to your car, kissing you by the driver’s side door, you see the black car waiting on him, your heart hammering as you think again of what he’s getting into. “Don’t fucking get hurt, please.”

“Me? Nah, you worry too much.” He grips your chin between his fingers, kissing you again slowly, you drink him in, on your tip toes in your heels, arms wrapping around his neck.

You’re going to live with Satoru Gojo, that seems absolutely batshit, but you feel more at home in his arms than you ever did in that hollow shell of a place, littered with horrible memories. You ache to stay there, to make him drag you wherever he’s going, to somehow protect him - insane things. You know you’d just get in the way, but you can’t help but ask.

“Is this fight because of me?” He shakes his head, and you get just a little bit of a sense of relief then, the sun is gently bouncing off his silvery locks as they sway just so, and you’re still firmly in his arms.

“The main reason is Sukuna’s girl, and taking down Naoya for her, but he just so happens to be the cause of your debts. So it is a win-win situation, but not only you, there’s so much fucked shit he’s done. He does need to get taken down.” You nod and nervously swallow. “Now you get your pretty self to work, I’ll see you after, I promise I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, I um… I love you.” You whisper, he exhales at that, leaning down and smiling against your lips.

“Of course you do, pookie.”

“Hey!” You smack at his chest as he grins.

“Why wouldn’t you, I’m perfect.”

“Y’know-” he shuts you up with a firm kiss, and you melt once more.

“I do too,” his soft words are husky, he’s so terrified then, to say it for the first time, and for once he’s a little nervous about a fight, because now he really has someone to come back to. Things he’ll tell you in time, but for now kisses, more kisses, until you’re almost going to be late. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You tear up in the car, but smile and wave behind your tinted windows, watching him bend down and slip into the back of the car. Work goes by meticulously slow, as you think over and over about him, if he’s okay, what he’s doing, while you’re clacking away at your keyboard and smiling at clients.

“Everything okay, Miss?” Nanami asks softly, as you bring him a cup of coffee, you sigh then, shaking your head. He looks at you with concern. “What’s going on?”

“Just in my head, Mr. Nanami. I promise things are getting better though,” he smiles at that, as you give him a smile in return.

“Good, if you need to leave early, please do.”

“No, I’m okay!” Better to keep busy than panic further, your boss nods and continues to work as you sit back at your desk, peering at your phone every few minutes, hoping that the man who’s doing too much for you will not get hurt.

In fact if anyone hurts Satoru you’ll lose it.

*****

Satoru’s knuckles are bloody later that night, he’s punching this man with sharp jab to his chin, he’s roundhouse kicking that one, grabbing one and flipping him the fuck over till he lands right on his head, with a sickening crack. He gets one grabbing his back, arms wrapping his neck, he tosses them in one flip, until they land next to the unconscious man.

He hates this.

He's an insanely talented fighter, it's with ease that his fists move, that his hands work. Years of training for this, but also just natural talent, you don't get to be a Gojo without having it, the skill to knock out an entire room. But Gojo is just exhausted, this isn’t what he wants to be doing, it isn’t where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, near you.

He keeps fighting because that’s what he does, it’s his job really, to protect the families and to take down the ones opposing them, he supposes it’s some noble fucking thing to do, but he can’t help but feel the distaste with it all. He knocks another guy right in the jaw, ducks with ease from another oncoming, as Suguru punches that man and knocks him out cold.

He’s never enjoyed it, where he sees Sukuna and Toji getting quite a thrill from beating up the Zenin, he gets it, he really does, but he doesn’t feel the same. He never really has, in fact even this is going through the motions, just like it was before his eyes danced across a pretty girl at the bar.

This was a good thing, because next in line is the mother fucker helping cause your debt, of course there was much more in play than that, but knowing they’d be beating up Naoya Zenin did indeed give Satoru that rush. Just like he wants to beat the living shit out of Mei, but she’s very connected to the Gojos, so in her case it’s better to just cut her off, take her money.

That one is a slow game.

He has so much prepared to stop them from coming for you, but all he can think is how he just wants to fucking kiss you right now, hold you in his arms another night. While the room is a bloody mess, and Gojo and his boys are winning like it’s nothing despite being outnumbered, your vision dances across his mind, the little confession you think he didn’t hear.

It’s insane to be in love this soon, right? But it’s like Satoru knew when he saw you, it was over for him, and now he just needs to get the world on the same page so you can be by his side. So you can not be so exhausted, so stressed out all of the time and so worn down, he had to try to remember what this was for, for not just you but so many people.

After Naoya is taken down, and Sukuna really sinks in the last of the hits, the warehouse door swings open, the five men and the rest of the members of the Kamo and Gojo mob walk out. It lets in a rush of cool night air, Satoru greedily takes a breath of it, looking up at an oddly clear night for this city. Hoping that you’re not too worried, that you’re okay.

He never had this before, the overwhelming need to come back to someone, to bury his face in your neck and let you hold him, a vulnerability Satoru hasn’t shared, and hasn’t felt in his life. Before you it was going through the motions, now his thoughts are just consumed by you, consumed by how badly he wants you to live a good life, and with him.

 He hears the distant sound of sirens, surely all the noise had made someone call. “Time to get out before the feds come knocking.”

The Zenin mob retreats as well, helping their leader, who can’t even walk, but truly he’s lucky to be fucking alive.

“Coke?” Satoru offers when they get in the limo, shaking a baggie of snowy powder, and Toji pulls out a bottle of liquor from the center of the limo, where the cooler sits.

“Drinks?” He suggests, but Suguru is already lighting up a blunt, smoke filling the limo of the five bruised and grinning men.

“Smoke?” He suggests, Sukuna grins then.

“All of ‘em, fuck it.”

****

Bloody and exhausted, but truly coked up, five men get out of that limo now, walking into the club. The girls there quickly clear out any guests, so that it’s just the staff, helping clean the boys up, but Satoru’s eyes are on you. You’re terrified, he sees it then, full of fear as you run up to him, and wrap your arms around him, the blood from his hand slipping across your skin.

“Satoru, are you okay!?” You’re checking him quickly, hands brushing along a bruise on his perfect cheek, the terror setting in of what Satoru’s career really was, and what it entailed. The fear of losing someone you just got in your life eating at you, making you blink back tears.

“I’m alright, sweets, it’s mostly their blood.” He’s smirking, and you exhale then, when he holds you to him closely, as the men start talking, Satoru’s just holding you against him, you’re trembling as you hold onto him, your heart racing in your chest so quickly you feel it’s going to burst. “I’m okay, shh.”

“You’re not okay.” You pull back, but he just kisses you, dried blood from a cut on his lip busting open, dripping between you. “I need to patch you up.”

“I’m fine, sweets,” he leans low, lips brushing your ear. “Just wanna be inside you right now.”

“Fuck…” you trail off, as everyone is pouring in, cleaning up, but you two really can’t get your hands off each other. He’s walking you back into the bar, lifting your right on it and stepping between your thighs, moaning. “People can see us, crazy.”

“That’s why we won’t fuck yet,” he hums, lost in your scent, lost in the adrenaline and need to possess you, as the men are now gathering to get drinks, looking at the two of you, amused.

Sukuna and his girl are even smirking at you two, Toji is tense, Suguru and Choso are quiet, but the mood is overall good. When you’re all drinking in the bar later, after Satoru at least lets you swipe the blood off his face with a damp paper towel. You and your friend are helping pour the drinks for the boys. It seems like they’re all just exhausted, it’s a little quiet as you’re handing Satoru his favorite drink.

“I lied about it being boring.” Satoru murmurs then, holding your hand carefully across the bar, you frown in concern at that, leaning forward.

“It’s not boring?” You ask quietly, and he shakes his head.

“It’s boring and pointless, and fucking stupid. But, for once, I think we did something, something that actually mattered.” You’re back on his side soon, as he tugs you against him, and the hunger there is far too intense, the desperation in which he kisses you, holds you so close.

“Satoru, why don’t you take her home,” Sukuna suggests with a chuckle. “Before you all just fuck right here.”

Satoru pulls back and grins. “Says you. I don’t wanna know how many surfaces you’ve hit.” He says with a smirk, earning Sukuna’s chuckle.

“We have not hit… many surfaces!?” His girl tries to save face, but no one really believes that. 

“Go fuck, you two need it,” Toji says with a smirk, and you blush, burying your face against Satoru’s chest then. “We’ll be just fine.”

“All right,” you’re going to say bye but Satoru’s picked you up in his arms, you’re gasping at the far too romantic and dramatic gesture, while he holds you close, carrying you out to the big black luxury car purring and ready. You feel the humid night air gently blowing on your skin, and soon you’re sitting on his lap, tears filling your eyes when he’s tilting your chin.

“I was so fucking scared,” you say finally, he frowns, sighing and nodding, tugging you close against him. “So scared, Satoru, you can’t just go fight a mob.”

“I’m a mobster baby.”

“Fuck that, we’ll go like get a ranch or something.” He’s laughing then, shaking his head as he swipes your tears.

“You want me to be a cowboy? In Gucci?”

“Yes!” You don’t laugh, even as he’s teasing you, brushing back your hair with careful fingers and kissing your forehead sweetly.

“It’s my life baby, but with you it seems so much better,” he’s soft when you slip onto his lap now, straddling him, his length pressing insistent against you, as you cup his face, kissing him.

“Satoru,” you’re drowning in him, your pulse racing in your ears, as he pulls back from your lips, sighing and looking at your neck, kissing down it, his hands trailing over your thighs, up to your hips now, everything lighting up for him. “We can… mnh… be pirates.”

“Isn’t that dangerous too?” He teases, breathy words when he nips at your collar bone, your head falls back, hair slipping down across your shoulder, nodding and sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It is but I c-can be with you on the - mnh, ship…”

“You can’t swim.”

 “I’ll learn to swim.” 

You’re playfully nipping on his lip now, but you just earn his grin, a feral grin like when he’d fingered his cum back inside you, making your tummy clench as the hot need starts filling you.

“You want me in a slutty pirate outfit, hmm?” You’re moaning even more at that image, he’s laughing against your skin, teeth brushing it, hot breath tickling you now. “Are you staying the night at your new place?”

“Don’t have clothes…”

“Think I didn’t order some?” You shake your head at him, sighing as you run your fingers down his cheek.

“Did you just know I’d say yes?”

“Had a feeling,” your kisses are more needy now, filling the car with both of your heat, as you’re losing yourself in him even more, every touch sending you, the adrenaline in both of your veins rushing. “Sweetheart…”

“Mnh… yes, I’ll stay,” he’s devouring your mouth now, little smacks of his lips, saliva dripping as you press on him, craving him completely. “You’re still insane though, y’know that?”

“I know… I need you baby,” his hands, painted crimson with blood tug at your top as you grind on him, whining out when it tears. “I'll buy you another.”

“Shh, just fuck me, please,” you're desperate as you whine out those words, he moans and sucks on your neck at the base, while his hand grips a tit and squish it in it’s rough grip, marking it with a dark red handprint. You're whining out now, cunt soaking him over his slacks when he starts tugging at his belt.

“God, I love you,” his husky whisper makes you both pause, as you look into his eyes, and he's got his cock out, hard and leaking precum. Blue eyes in the dark share a myriad of emotions, he swallows nervously, sighing. “I do, I fucking love you.”

“I love you so much, mnh…” Satoru’s got your panties tugged to the side, teeth biting at your nipple as two fingers sink in deep, curling in your already wet cunt.

“Soaked already? F’me, yeah baby?” You nod, whining out at the pressure, your eyes rolling back as his fingers hit just that spot, squelching wetness so sloppy and fucking loud as they fuck into you, your breasts pressed against his face, as you stroke his cock, slowly rubbing his leaky tip in the dark, making him whine out.

“Need you in me,” your words urge him more, he’s fingering you deeper, so deep, as you grind on them, lost in each other. “Satoru, please.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers, so sweet even now, pulling those fingers out and sucking your taste off them, groaning as his cheeks hollow, before he swipes it on your lips, and you’re kissing it right off him.

It’s messy and insane, the blood from his busted lip again slipping between your mouths, dripping down your chins, when he slips his tip at your entrance, groaning. “I can take it.”

“You said that last time, hmm? Tiny little cunt,” you’re slowly filled bit by bit as he drags you down further, taking more inch by inch. “Stretching you out, yeah?”

You manage a weak nod, as he eases into you deeper, you feel so full, his tip curving and hitting your spot. You’re gripping his crumpled dress shirt, soaking his length as he presses up deeper, husky moan against your lips, a hand messing up your hair as the other holds your panties to the side, tugging the material and rolling his hips while he brings you down on him.

“Ah!” The way you’re clenching him almost makes him bust then and there, you’re too tight, he’s lost then at how good you fucking feel, your sighs and how you say his name, your tits bouncing in his face as you slowly ride him. “H-haven’t been on top Toru…”

“You’re doing s’good baby, fuck you’re riding me perfect,” his words urge you, as he lifts your hips, and you’re sliding down more and more of his thick, veiny length, wetter and wetter, pulsing around him, already close. “That’s it, cum all you want, fucking use me baby, mmm…”

You’re done for then, you slip him in until he bottoms out, tip drooling on your cervix. You’re looking at him as you do, cupping his face gently and seeing those bruises form, while you roll your hips just so. He’s pressing so deep, stretching out your walls, you feel every fucking vein and ridge on his cock, crying out as he fills you so good, swallowing his pretty moans as you move.

You’re cumming with one more roll of your hips, while the two of you ride in the back of this car, arousal gushing down his slacks, his teeth sink into your neck, leaving his mark and sucking, when he jerks his hips up, smacking even deeper. He’s whispering your name as he fucks up into you now, taking control of the movements, until he’s fucking you from one orgasm into another.

“That’s it, as many times as you want,” he whispers, he’s perfect - so fucking perfect - inside you, around you, everywhere, Satoru is all there is in that moment, blissfully fucking your mind dumb. There’s no thoughts, just desire, love, need for him in every way, as the smacks get louder, and he’s taken all the control beneath you. “Cum again, sweetheart, just for me.”

You can’t help but obey when he’s running his fingers on your clit, you wonder just how fucking wrecked you look, both of you half naked and covered in dried blood all over, the people who made your life a living hell on your skin. It’s desperate and quick, the thrusts harder and harder, his hands now gripping each ass cheek, slamming you down so hard you scream out.

“That’s it, milk my cock, huh sweetheart?” You’re mindlessly grinding in little circles, aftershocks gripping his cock so good, nails pressing into his scalp as your fingers card through it. “Want me to fill you up?”

You’re nodding, choking out a yes as he’s stretching you out so good, your knees pressing into the plush leather as you cling to him, and he’s fucking harder and harder up into your cunt, so wet it’s slipping in easier even as your cunt is struggling to take how full he’s making you. Your tongues are messy as they drip, touching at the tips while his hands press into your skin, and you feel him losing his own control.

“F-fuck, baby…” He’s softly whining out then, looking at you under those snowy lashes, his blue eyes glimmering in the darkness.

“In me, please cum in me - ngh!” He’s done for at your sweet little pleas, fuck he’ll give you anything, when you’re looking at him, gripping him with your perfect cunt, walls just quivering. “Satoru!”

“Fuck…” He’s groaning out your name when his cock starts gushing white hot ropes, you feel the warmth of it then, as she does greedily milk him for more. He’s lost, his cute little whines echoing in your ears, mingling with your heavy breaths, as you two rest your foreheads together.

The rhythm slows, you’re twitching from the aftershocks, trembling in his hold, it’s a blur until he’s got you somewhat right, carrying you into his elevator, you’re still leaking his cum as he’s kissing you deeper, pressing you along the wall. He’s having you get his keys out of his pocket as he refuses to put you down, the two of you kissing even as he stumbles in.

“Shower with me?” He murmurs, eyeing your disarray then and smirking. “I made you a mess hmm baby?”

He shows you just how much of a mess when he’s got you in his bathroom now, and turns you to the mirror. You have streaks of dried blood all over, your top is ruined, bite marks and bruises from his hungry kisses. Your lips are swollen, eyes dilated and fucked up off him as he stands so tall behind you in the mirror, a huge lit mirror in a beautiful, pristine bathroom.

You look at him in the mirror, he’s just as much of a mess as you, when he tugs the rest of your clothes off, slipping them down your body in a whisper, until you’re naked for him. You have little lines from where your bra and panties pressed into your skin, marks of lace that his fingers dart across, moaning as he splays a hand on your tummy now.

“Wanna fuck so many babies into you,” his words are batshit, but you’re arching your back for him, head falling against his chest as you picture it. “Make a whole new Gojo line.”

You can’t take it, the images flitting through your head, you’re turning and stripping him now, running your hands delicately over his chiseled body. You hadn’t even seen him fully naked, the sight of him makes your throat dry, then you get emotional as you see little bruises, cuts and marks marring his perfection.

“I’m okay.” He sees it, the concern, he’s reassuring you when you should reassure him, cupping your face in his big hands now.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, ever,” you’re sniffling now, he sighs, pressing his lips on your head tenderly. “Ever, promise me.”

“I can promise that I’m strong enough to beat the shit out of anyone?”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, teary now, he sees them, kissing both of your eyelids as they close. “I know you’re strong but still, please.”

“I won’t let anyone land too many hits, okay?” He’s smirking even now, all boyish charm, but your glare does him in. “All right, no more teasing. Let me start a shower for you.”

Soon you’re inside his enormous tiled shower, he slides those foggy glass doors closed, peering at you carefully, touching the marks he left and moaning softly. “You enjoy that, marking me?”

“Let everyone know you belong to me, yes I do…” he’s pressing on one, sore, making you cry out, as the hot spray starts hitting both of you from overhead, the waterfall shower cascading along his back, as he runs slick hands down your skin. “Mark you everywhere.”

You want it, eager as he kisses you once more, droplets of water falling from his face onto yours, your hands slide up the strong muscles of his back, slick from the water, as he gently brushes your hair back. Soon he’s got you turned, washing your hair for you, fingers massaging your scalp, you’re moaning at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut.

“I could get used to this treatment,” you tease, but he sighs, frowning as he runs the other showerhead over your hair, rinsing the shampoo out in fragrant bubbles that fall down your legs. “It’s lovely.”

“I’ll wash your hair any time, you have been working too hard you know.” he’s conditioning your hair then, hands rubbing your shoulders, your arms, in little circles, thumbs pressing in your sore neck. You sigh in pleasure, head falling forward for more, his fingers hitting every pressure point there is. “You're gonna quit working or what?”

“Satoru, I can’t just quit working. Mnh…” He’s running his hands across your back now, turning you and pressing you against the warmth of the cream colored tiles, your eyes looking up at him, his snowy lashes dripping water droplets, forming pretty spikes that frame his eyes.

“Fine, cut back hours.” You giggle then, nodding.

“That I can do, maybe part time at the office?”

“You can be my assistant, you know.”

“You’d just fuck me all day.” He pouts.

“No, what do you think of me?” He’s kneeling then, kissing your breasts, your tummy, your hands brush back his wet strands, thick and silky against your finger tips as he eyes you. “I would get work done.”

“What work do you do though? Doesn’t… Sukuna do most of your things…”

“I look pretty and hit people. It’s very important, baby.” He’s kissing lower as you whimper now, the sound filling his ears, hot water pounding on both of you when he eyes your pussy, all puffy from him. He touches it with his fingers, watching you squirm now, smiling.

“Sore, mnh!” He’s kissing it now, making you suck in a breath.

“I’ll apologize to her,” he’s talking to your cunt then, pulling a thigh up over his shoulder, lapping his long tongue up your slit then, you’re throbbing and sore, ready again for him. “Sorry, pretty.”

“She forgives you,” he chuckles and laps his tongue up again, you’re rocking your hips against his face, leg shaking as you balance on it, his big hands pinning your hips in place. “Toru!”

“Mmm, you always taste so good, especially after I’ve filled you up,” he’s lapping at the creamy mix of his cum and yours just dripping from your little hole, his nose bumping your clit now. “That’s it, let go, I’ve got you.”

His words are more than just eating you out till you cum, they’re so much more, you’re safe with Satoru, you can breathe, let go for him. He’s slurping you down then, hungry and messy as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, the hot steam rising around the two of you. He’s pushing your sensitive cunt over the edge, humming as he sucks your clit in his mouth.

You’re shattering again, only to be lifted up by him, his tip insistently pressing on your sore entrance, all ready and soaked for him again. Your thighs press into his hips as he kisses you, and you taste the mix of his breath, your cunt and his cock all over his pink tongue. He’s shoving his cock deep, bottoming out in one go, you’re screaming hoarsely, weak now, lost in it.

“Mine, stay mine baby, please,” he’s begging you, as if you would think of anything else in the world. You’re nodding as he moans and fucks deeper, ever so slow, savoring every inch as it goes in and out of your heat. “Say it.”

“Yours, Toru, all yours.” He’s kissing you again, so intimate you can hardly breathe, as the steam filters through your nostrils, your mind, cunt stretching once more to accomodate his thickness inside you.

“Gonna put more in you, yeah? You want that?” You nod eagerly, and soon he’s pumped even more cum inside your tummy, you’re already pushing it out with the force of your orgasm, he’s biting you harder, sucking deeper. Leaving marks you don’t even know how you’ll cover up.

Toweling you dry all cute and innocent later, it takes a long time before you even see his even parts of his penthouse - soon you’ll be living here. It seems insane to just move in with a man you barely know, a mobster, but there’s no doubt in your mind of where you want to be. After living in constant fear and exhaustion, you’re now getting hot cocoa made for you, wearing cute little pajamas he bought.

Satoru himself is wearing pajama pants with kittens, it makes you giggle when you see them, you can’t help it. He crosses his arms and tilts his head while you sip your cocoa, sitting at one of the seats at the bar. “What’s so funny, Missy?”

“Just this big bad mobster wearing kitty pjs.”

“Oh yeah, think I’m not still big and bad,” he walks up to you, slipping his fingers across your chin, your hair is all dried from him carefully toweling it, silky from whatever insanely expensive conditioner he got. “Should I show you?”

“Another round?” He’s smirking, cock already straining against his pants. “How!”

“I could fuck you over and over, till you can’t even walk, then you’ll have to take a leave of absence.” You’re giggling but he’s dead serious, tilting your chin up with two fingers, your hand puts down the mug with a little clink. “I’m serious.”

“I cannot take more dick yet, I hurt.”

“Talking shit but can’t take it?”

“I can’t tell if you’re a jerk or sweet at any given moment.” He smiles and you laugh, shaking your head when he tugs you to stand. 

“It’s part of my charm, don’t you think?”

“Maybe…” you tip toe and hug him around his broad chest, bare and soft from the shower, still marked up in ways that scare you. “Are you sure about this, me living with you?”

“I’ve never been more sure than the moment I saw you, that I knew I wanted to take care of you,” his words melt your heart, you’re kissing him again.

It’s dangerous to kiss Satoru Gojo, when he’s rock hard with a huge cock and an insatiable appetite, you barely get a look at his bed before you’re folded in a mating press, you know it’s pretty and comfy from the glimpses you get when he shoves your face against it. When you arch for him, crying out at how sore you are, only making him harder, and making you cum more.

He’s fucking every worry out of your brain like that’s his only job in life, until he’s gotta clean you up again, until those marks are deeper, and you’re truly not sure how you’ll move tomorrow. How you’ll leave this bed, and maybe that is Satoru’s goal, to force some fucking rest and self care on the girl he loves, the one that runs off ramen and red bull.

The one he’ll never let go, in his arms that night, sighing as he tugs you so close to him, stroking a hand down your back soothingly. “You think she’ll leave me alone for good?”

“She won’t know where to find you, but yes. I think I gave her enough to fuck off. And I thought my parents were shitty.”

“Yours still were in their own ways,” you lean up now, chin resting on your hand as you study him. “If we ever… become parents, they shouldn’t be forced into this.”

“I agree,” he swallows nervously, and you blush deeply.

“I’m thinking so forward here.”

“It’s okay, I like that.” He kisses your head, brushing your hair now soothingly, as the exhaustion hits. “I’ll make sure they never have to.”

“I know you would, you’re Satoru Gojo.”

“Amazing huh?”

“Shh.” He’s chuckling as you kiss him, holding you tightly, and you finally rest for once in his strong embrace, feeling everything falling into place.

This was just supposed to be a little mini series so it will be wrapping up next chapter, it'll be a little epilogue! ty for reading this one, I love writing Toru so damn cute after making him a jerk in my other fics lol

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[harrysfolklore]

russell!reader after that race????

i know how much you love the future wife babies, enjoy!

You watch both screens with your heart in your throat - George leading with three laps to go, and Lando... Lando who just made a desperate move into turn 1, misjudging the gap and taking himself and out of the race.

"I know, It's my fault," Lando's voice is tight with frustration. "I'm sorry. I messed up."

Your stomach drops as you watch him coast to a stop, the cameras showing him slumped in the car before climbing out.

Two screens, two completely different emotions. Your brother about to win his first race of the year, your boyfriend's race ending in the barriers because of his own mistake.

When George crosses the finish line, the garage erupts. You're hugging everyone, crying happy tears, your heart torn between pure joy for your brother and aching concern for Lando.

You find George first, throwing yourself into his arms as he lifts you off the ground.

"We did it sis," he whispers, voice thick with emotion.

"You did it," you correct, squeezing him tight. "I'm so proud of you."

He sets you down, studying your face. "Go find him."

"But the celebrations—"

"Will still be here," George says softly. "He needs you more right now."

You find Lando in his driver room, still in his race suit, head in his hands.

"Baby," you say quietly.

"Don't," his voice is rough. "I don't deserve comfort right now. I messed up. I got impatient and I messed up."

You step closer anyway. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not like that," he looks up, eyes red. "I almost take Oscar too. All because I couldn't wait one more corner for a better opportunity."

"Lando..."

"You should be celebrating with George," he says. "Not dealing with my stupid mistakes."

"Hey," you kneel in front of him. "Look at me."

He reluctantly meets your eyes.

"Yes, you made a mistake. Yes, it was your fault. But beating yourself up won't change that."

"I just..." his voice cracks. "I wanted to be up there with George. I wanted to fight for the win with you here. Instead I..." he gestures helplessly, "I drove like a rookie."

"You drove like someone who wants to win," you say gently. "Sometimes that makes us push too hard."

"Oscar's going to hate me."

"Oscar's your friend. He'll understand."

"Will he?" Lando asks quietly. "Because I don't even understand what I was thinking."

"You were thinking about winning," you take his hands in yours. "Which isn't wrong. The execution was just..."

"Terrible? Stupid? Reckless?"

"Human," you finish. "You made a human mistake."

He slumps forward until his forehead rests against yours. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me," you run your fingers through his hair.

He studies your face. "You should go celebrate with George."

"Lando," you cup his face in your hands. "I'm allowed to be happy for my brother and sad for my future husband at the same time."

Despite everything, his lips twitch. "Future husband?"

"Well, you keep saying it," you shrug. "Guess it's growing on me."

He pulls you closer. "Like papaya orange?"

"Never that much," you say, relieved to see him smile slightly. "But... maybe we could paint one small wall in the future house."

His whole face lights up. "Really?"

"A very small wall," you emphasize. "Like, closet-sized."

"I'll take it," he declares, then sobers. "Thank you. For being here."

"Always," you kiss him softly. "That's what future wives are for."

"Still not my wife," he reminds you, mimicking your usual response.

"Yet," you say, making him smile properly.

A knock at the door interrupts you. It's George, still in his race suit, champagne in his hair.

"Alright mate?" he asks Lando carefully.

Lando straightens. "Yeah. Congratulations, you drove brilliantly."

"Thanks," George says, then, "Listen, we're having a small celebration later. Nothing big, just family. You should come."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude—"

"You're family too, you muppet," George cuts in. "Future brother-in-law, remember?"

Lando looks at you uncertainly. You squeeze his hand.

"Okay," he says finally. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," George grins. "Fair warning though - mum's going to try to feed you until you burst."

"I can handle that," Lando says, looking more like himself.

"Can you handle dad showing everyone baby pictures of YN again?"

"Absolutely," Lando perks up. "Those are my favorite."

"Traitor," you mutter, but you're smiling.

Later, watching Lando laugh with your family as your dad does indeed break out the baby photos, you think about how sometimes the best comfort isn't choosing sides, but creating a space where everyone belongs.

Even if that space might eventually include one very small papaya orange wall.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Still Standing Part 2 (Smoke x Black Reader)

A/N: Ummmm a bit late but here you go for all my Smoke girlies! 💙💙

Read part 1 if you haven't already!

Warnings: This is a reader fic (not Smoke x Annie - unless you wanna read it that way! I just love this gif (sue me lol), SMUT, DNI, mentions of violence and abuse.

*** The love between you and Elijah was forged one silent moment after another. He did not capture your heart with clever words and long winded soliloquies. He did with his presence. His ability to exist in utter stillness. His steadiness. Storms could be raging around him, designed to rattle, shake, and scare him. But none of it worked. 

He never rushed. 

And when he struck? It was with perfect precision and control. 

It’s what made him Smoke. Lethal and unforgiving. Merciless. 

But it was also what made him Elijah. How in his childhood silence, he watched everything about you. And showed you the depths of his understanding of you in the most exact ways. As if he studied you long enough to learn your soul. 

How he brought you your favorite flowers for the first time once on a whim. A fact he knew not because you ever told him, but from noticing which flowers you spent the longest tending to in your garden.

How he endured being yelled at by your mama for staying too late when a storm was headed in. All so he’d be allowed to spend the night because he knew thunder frightened you. He’d stay up with you working or talking, holding you through the worst of it. You found out what it felt like to fall asleep in the warmth of his arms that way, only breaking apart if you heard the creaking floorboards of your mama coming to check on you.

It was the way he held you close to his chest after you bandaged his cuts and bruises after their father’s beatings, knowing you needed the reassurance that he was alright. 

You had long stopped allowing yourself to fantasize about what it would feel like to be cocooned in his silent focus again. To be loved by a man as devoted and singular as he. 

But at this moment, his silence was not the calm you once dreamed of returning to the heart of. It was thick, prickly with the tension of everything bearing down on both of you like a ton. Trauma, lost time, lingering questions, concern. 

When he walked out of the barn some time later, his energy felt as if someone had dropped all the weight of the world onto his back. Blood splattered across his crisp white shirt, only interrupted by his charcoal vest. He did not say a single word to either of them as he slid his jacket back on. Stack whispered something in his ear as he passed him a rolled cigarette.

It was about you, you knew when Smoke’s eyes flickered over to you before climbing into the passenger seat. You imagined it was just to share what you’d said or done while the two of you waited, which had been nothing. Nothing that you knew would still be of interest to your husband. 

You‘d allowed Stack’s gentle arm to lead you to their car and climbed into the backseat without a fuss, not uttering a word to your long lost brother. You just stared blankly with bloodshot eyes at the barn entrance, chewing your lip raw, body trembling as a small piece of you deflated every time the door opened and your husband did not emerge. 

Stack had attempted to engage you in conversation, he could never stay quiet for too long. But even that could not thaw you out. You were not sure you even really heard him. Every brain cell was occupied with thoughts of him.

Your blank expression was not from a lack of things to express. But from the sheer overwhelm of too many questions and discussions.  

What did he do to Red? 

How the fuck were they back here? 

Why were they back here?

Why did he leave you?

Would he leave again?

But it was folly to ask a single one to either brother. Stack was, rightfully so, far more terrified of his big brother than you so you weren't going to be able to pry a word out of him that Smoke did not want you to know. And when Smoke wordlessly climbed into the passenger seat, you knew he was not going to answer a question until he decided you were alright. All your questions about him would have to wait. 

You and Stack could almost see his internal spiraling as Stack drove them a few miles home. You could feel him agonizing over what almost took place, what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. You could feel his focus on you the entire ride. Every few minutes, his head tilted toward the backseat.

With only the corner of his eye, he examined you. How you anxiously chewed your lip, how your arms cradled around yourself, how you sat trembling but so stiff despite the exhaustion etched in your eyes. 

You felt every millisecond glance, each one helping him understand what you needed to feel the depths of his love and devotion. 

That tension rattled around you three until you reached your home. Stack helped you out, a relaxed grin taking over his features. The years away aged your husband a bit more than his brother. You wondered when he last smiled? Elias smiled all the time and always made sure you were too, even if it was while you rolled your eyes at him. But Elijah, smiles were rare for him. Laughter too rare. You imagined Elias and you were the only two people on Earth blessed enough to witness either. 

It showed even in how they settled around your kitchen table, Stack leaning back in his chair without a care in the world. While Smoke sat but remained on high alert, sitting straight as if someone tied a board to his back. Always watching, always examining. 

You busied yourself to fix them both something to eat. The same prickly silence expanded like air to fill your quaint kitchen. You felt his eyes following you in every motion and movement throughout your kitchen. Here, he was not regulated to side glances in the car. Here, he could consume you like the most riveting novel, memorize how your body changed in the last eight years. 

You placed Elijah’s porcelian bowl down first, the man merely nodding. 

“Thanks, darlin’.” His gratitude reflected sincerely in his eyes despite his lack of movement. His fork remained untouched, his body rigid as steel. His eyes decidedly cast on you. 

You raised your eyebrows in a brief challenge. No husband of yours was going to sit at your table and not eat a proper meal. And the attitude starting to form as your free hand rested on your hip communicated just that. 

But he remained unbothered as he continued smoking, consuming his drugs of choice. Tobacco and you. 

This man of mine, you thought to yourself. Stand-offs such as this were far too common Being one of two people Elijah trusted came with the honor of being the person he trusted to care for him. But it had to be on his terms and only when he deemed it necessary. Stubborn as hell when he wanted to be. And today, he wanted to be. 

But you couldn’t fathom loving anyone else. 

You imagined he often had similar thoughts about you. 

“If that nigga won’t eat, I sure as hell will. Specially if that’s yo gumbo?”

Stack’s words ended your staring match in defeat, forcing you to move on to hand his brother his food. 

You remembered the last time you made their favorite meal, a family recipe from Louisiana that had been passed down to you. You made it for them on their last birthday in the Delta, before they left for Chicago. The first of many birthdays you expected the three of you to celebrate in you and Elijah’s home.

“Yea. I get the urge to make it every once in a while. Made it before Hattie’s. Helps remind me of home, I guess.”

In the last eight years, the memories of that last birthday were a buoy at sea you clung to, filling you with the joy the days alone depleted. You remembered Elijah, Elias, Mary, Grace, and Bo sitting around your table, smiles bright, laughter loud, bellies full with all of the twins’ favorites. You remembered Elijah’s gentle hands sliding around your waist to pull you into his lap as you passed him, your body exhausted from a long evening of hosting and an even longer day of giving him the birthday he deserved. And every time you tried to get up to pour someone another drink or fix him or Stack another bowl of gumbo, he’d gently tighten his grip forcing you to rest against him.

You remembered thinking that this was exactly what you wanted the rest of your life to be. 

You and Elijah would grow old in the home he built to your exact specifications. With every passing birthday, your walls would grow full and vibrant with the memories of the life you built together; your furniture would become more and more loved and worn with time as the gathering spot for your family; your house would become louder and more rambunctious with the children you’d have together. 

You remembered thanking the ancestors for that day, for how profoundly in love you were with your present and the rich future you saw with Elijah and this chosen family you had together. It had not been much. In your world, your people were not afforded much more than 'just enough.' But to you, it was everything.

The first birthday without him forced you to contend with the reality that such a coveted dream was barely clinging to life. Was it dead and lost to you forever? Everyone around you believed so. Or would your Sun return and breathe life back into your universe and future? At first, you held onto that hope that you could get everything you once had back again. But with every passing birthday, the dream lost its color, lost its sharpness and clarity as it slipped farther and farther away from you. And so did home, forcing you to cling to every fleeting memory and wisp of it that you could. 

Your eyes lifted from your hands to glance at your husband, his eyes squarely set on you as if he knew what home really meant. 

Him.

“Them ghosts you be talkin’ to might be onto somethin’.”

You jokingly hit him upside the head with your towel before returning to the stove. You knew the twins didn’t believe in the same powers you did. You didn’t believe in what they did either. But there was respect on both sides, acknowledgement that all of it worked together, somehow and someway. That their individual ways had their place in this world and why, against all odds, the three of you were still standing. 

“Heard you takin’ care of crackers cross town now?” Stack asked in between bites, his bowl vanishing faster than light itself traveled.

You waved your hand, dismissing the concern you already heard laced in his tone. You did not need to turn around to feel your husband’s gaze intensify against your skin.  

“Remind me to kill Grace tomorrow,” you muttered in annoyance. “Just a couple of the wives… one of ‘em Geraldine works for is from somewhere down in Louisiana. She likes her healin’ a bit stronger than the medicine them white doctors use.” 

“Just be careful, aight? Met a lot of white folk n they all trouble.” 

You chuckled, your eyes glancing from the towel in your hand to his brother who was still laser focused on you.

“You know mama used to say the same bout you two. ‘Always trouble with the SmokeStack twins’” 

"'N whatchu think?” 

“Trouble ain’t all bad. There’s good trouble in there too if you can find it.”

“And the SmokeStack twins? What kinda trouble we to you?”

“The kind that makes it worth it.”

Elijah’s hand stilled, his cigarette halfway to his mouth as he recalled the first time you told him that. The night Smoke was born and became the world’s, and Elijah became yours. Though, if you let him tell the tale, he was yours long before you caught on.

“Mama, please. Somethin’ could be wrong. He don’t live far.”

Two days. You hadn’t seen Elijah in two days. And that was just so unlike him. For over two years, you spent almost every day together, even if he just stopped by for a few moments.

With your increasing responsibilities in your home and grandmother’s shop, Elijah’s presence was the stolen sweet moment in long, aching days. A sacred ritual. As your granny became too sick and her work fell to you, Elijah always seemed to know exactly what you needed when he stopped by. Some days, he would just come by to help you finish whatever task your grandma and mama set you to. Sometimes, he’d take on the task himself to give you a brief respite in your garden. And some days, he'd convince you to let him whisk you away to sit on the bank of the river or under the shade of a tree. And he let you lay your head on his shoulder and he let you just be.

And you tried to be the same for him. 

You gave him your hand to squeeze when he needed to talk about his father or worry himself about how he could protect his brother, as if they both weren’t just boys themselves. You bandaged up his cuts and wounds privately, giving him the space to be in pain and vulnerable. You held him as he shared his fear that the talk around town would be true. That he and Elias were doomed to be as rotten as their father was. And you told him every time he needed to hear it that he was so much more of a man than his father could ever be, that they would survive him.

Without even noticing, he’d become everything to you. And the sweetest boy - who captivated your thoughts when you should be focused on so much else - had no one to check on him. No one to know or care if something was wrong with him or his brother. All they had in this world was each other… and you. 

If you did not go, who would? 

“You can wait till mornin’. Sun goin’ down, n Elijah lives too far to go now.” 

“But mama-” 

“Stop all that back talk now,” your daddy called from his perch on your porch. 

“One more word bout it n you won’t go tomorrow either. How about that?” 

“Yes ma’am,” you grumbled, deciding it was better not to push your luck. 

“N I keep tellin’ you I don’t want you anywhere near his daddy or his house. I’ll let you go over tomorrow to check on em if it’ll get you to quiet down bout it n do your work in peace but then the twins gotta come here.” 

“Elijah won’t let his daddy hurt me.” The conviction in your voice was unwavering.  

“Can’t stop him from beatin’ the hell outta his own flesh and blood. Don’t see how he can protect you. From his daddy or anyone else for that matter. Even himself.” 

You stilled, turning your head to her. 

“I don’t need protection from Elijah. Why would you even say that? He’s a good boy, mama.” 

“He’s a good boy now, Y/N. But we all know who his daddy is…” 

“Elijah ain’t his daddy. He’s just him. N he’s a good friend to me, mama.” 

Your mama shook her head and turned around to return to the stove. “You know I have eyes too, Y/N. I see the way that boy looks at you. N’ I see the way you look at him."

"N what way is that?" you asked defiantly.

"The way I looked at your daddy when we first met. Actin like you ain’t sweet on each other. It’s friendship today, yall too young for much else. But in time, it won’t be friendship. 'N not all good boys grow to be good men, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disbelief at her words. You tossed down your towel. “I know him, mama. You keep sayin' I got a gift but you don't trust that I know him? I know what I need to know."

“Quit hasslin’ that girl, Evie," your father jumped in, saving you the beating with a switch your mother would unleash if you kept pushing her. Even if you were technically right.

"You wasn’t listenin’ to Mama Mabel when I started comin round either. She just like you. Young, stubbon, n in love.” 

“We’re not in love,” you tried to interject when your mama cut you off. 

“Aint the same thing at all. We was grown, not two kids chasin’ after each other. That boy ain’t no good. Everybody in town know it. Why you think you’re the only one that spends any time with the twins?” 

“Cause you raised me to do right by people who do right by me. N Elijah does right by me, helps me. Why ain’t that enough for you?” 

“She right, Evie. N nothin’ you say gon’ change her mind n you know it,” Your father stood tall, his broad shoulders and frame taking up the door frame into the kitchen. 

“I guess errbody in this house know better than me, huh? Like I ain’t the mama n I just don’t know shit,” your mama ranted as she angrily stomped back into your parents’ bedroom. 

You bit down on your lip, your anxiety at upsetting her clashing with your gratefulness for your father for defending you. You understood it was your mother’s job to be concerned and protective but what you felt for Elijah? It was not some childish infatuation. And you knew he felt more for you. 

“Do me n you a favor n don’t push it again tonight, aight? I’ll make sure she lets you go tomorrow.”

He leaned down so you could peck him on the cheek, too tall for you to reach even when you stretched. “Thank you, daddy.” 

Tomorrow had never seemed so distant, as if they were asking you to wait ions not hours.

You’d get up at first light to check on him, you decided as you laid in bed. Elijah was an early riser anyway so he’d be awake. You made a plan to sneak over a few pieces of cornbread for them for breakfast too. Seemed like they only ate well at your or Mary's house and they had not been around in days. It would not be much but you could convince Elijah and Elias to come over for dinner once you saw them. 

You tossed and turned into the night, sleep difficult to sustain as worry consumed you with every passing moment. The wind against your window, the calls and rustles of nighttime critters called out to you, begging you to break your mother’s rules altogether and race to him. 

Something was wrong. You could feel it. 

However, despite your age, you knew this was not the world for reckless choices, not for people who carried your skin tone. Reckless choices led to death and harm, harm you were forced to confront daily.

So you tempered yourself. The morning. At first light. You’d be safe and you’d make sure he was too.

A soft thud against your window disrupted your fitful tossing and turning. You glanced over your shoulder, deciding it must’ve been a small bird or something running into it. However, before your head could fall back onto your pillow, you noticed a hand knocking on it again. 

Who on Earth would be at your window? 

But you knew it could only be one person. 

“Elijah.” You whispered it as a prayer as you catapulted yourself out of bed. 

Your nightgown swayed around your feet as you tiptoed to your window. Something warm nestled in your chest, loosening the sharp talons of concern enough for you to breath again. 

You gently pushed open your window, the clouds bathing you both in darkness. As your eyes adjusted, you could see Elias’ frame leaning against the house a few feet away.  

“Elijah! You know it ain’t safe to be out in the middle of the night. You two alright?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered, his voice more unsure than you ever remembered it being. “But he needs you.” He paused, hesitating for a second before his eyes fell down to his hands. “I… need you.”

Your eyes misted, three simple words steamrolling you like a train. You knew since your first meeting two years ago that, in some complex way, Elijah needed you as you needed him. But he never asked for it, never explicitly said the words.

But here, in a voice as uncertain and broken as you’d ever heard him, he asked for you. And there was not a world in which you would deny him. 

A shift in the clouds bathed them in moonlight, his bruises and the dried blood splattered across his shirt. You did not need to be able to see Elias to know, if Elijah looked this bad, his state was far worse. 

You clenched your eyes. You knew something had been wrong. You reached your hand through the window, cupping his cheek briefly as your heart splintered for him and his brother. How could anyone hurt them like this? They deserved so much better. 

His head nestled softly into your palm as if it was the first comforting touch he had felt in far too long, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Your thumb whisked it away as he sniffled, clearly trying to hold it all inside. 

“You got me, I promise. Meet me at the shop door.”

A look of guilt formed on his face. 

“Yo mama? Don’t wanna get you in trouble.” 

“Sleep. But I don’t care.” 

He pressed a kiss into your palm, your heart fluttering. 

This boy… your mother’s words of warning floated back to your mind. She had been so wrong. Whatever this was was so much more than friendship already. You were not certain you could live without him. You tentatively leaned forward and pressed your lips to where your palm had just been. You had never kissed him before but it felt right, like what he needed to know you would choose him, be there for him, every time. 

“Come round to the front, okay? I’ll be right there.” 

You grabbed your granny’s shawl, which she has given to you shortly after falling ill, wrapping it around your shoulders. You quietly snuck out of your room and down the hall to the shop attached to your parents’ home. 

You were quiet, praying your mama and daddy stayed sound asleep for a while. 

You held open the door, both staggering in, Elijah leading Elias to the bed while you turned to light a few candles.

With a candle in hand, you started to rush toward Elijah but a minuscule jerk of his head forced you to change course. Elias first, always. 

As you approached them, you had to muffle a gasp. While their father had always done his worst, this seemed beyond even that, their bodies bloodied and bruised to a degree that should send their father straight to a county jail. Blood caked around a poorly patched wound on Elias’ head, which you figured accounted for the blood splattered on both their clothes. 

You were so focused on their injuries that you did not even notice the pistol held tightly in Elijah’s hand. 

Elias’ head hung low, a certain shame and despair settling around him that you weren’t accustomed to. His signature smile gone and the mischievous glint in his eyes completely extinguished.

Your finger lifted Elias’ head as you gently pulled the bandage off his forehead, the young man hissing in pain.  Your breath was sharp as you took in the gash on his head. 

“What he hit you with?” No one’s hands could produce such a wound. He hesitated. “You can tell me,” you whispered. 

You were not as close to Elias as Elijah, of course, but as you fell in love with Elijah, a more sisterly love similarly bloomed for his more talkative half. 

“Pistol whipped me. H-He didn’t mean it… tho,” Elias offered slowly, his voice breaking slightly as his hand lifted to wipe away a tear. “He was ju-...“

You glanced over at Elijah whose eyes seemed to soften for a mere moment with guilt before settling into something far harsher.    

“I know. But let’s worry bout you for a while. Not him, hmm? Let me bandage this up right so you can get some rest. Then we can talk bout the rest in the mornin.’” 

“Will it scar?” He asked quietly, a fear you often heard with injuries to people’s heads and faces. 

“I think I can preserve your good looks,” You offered with a grin as you grabbed everything you needed to clean him up. “This gon’ sting a bit.” You paused for a moment before adding, “You know even with a scar, Mary would think you’re still the better lookin’ twin.” 

You tucked your legs under you as you worked, cleaning his wounds and bruises with intense care. Your words about Stack’s crush, Mary, lightened the load weighing him down. His body perked up ever so slightly and he gave you the tiniest half smile. 

“Ain’t nobody thinkin’ bout Mary,” he muttered, unconvincingly. 

You merely nodded with a skeptical look on your face. “Uh huh, I’m sure nobody is. You know… she’s sweet on you too. Too shy to say it, maybe but she asks bout you all the time. Like today when I ran into her at the store.” 

“What she say?” he asked far too quickly. 

You giggled, even Elijah cracking a smile that made your heart soar. 

“Thought nobody was thinkin’ bout Mary?” You teased playfully. “Just asked if I’d seen you round. Told me to tell you hi if you both came by.” You lifted his head to study it again before nodding. “Head wounds bleed an awful lot but you don’t need stitches or nothin’. Keep it covered, don’t mess with it, n’ it shouldn’t scar too bad. Got some salve for the cuts and bruises."  

“Thanks, Y/N.” 

“Of course, Elias. I’m just sorry you…” You stopped yourself,  they never needed or wanted anyone’s sympathies. “Just sorry. How bout you lay down while I tend to this one?” 

“If he’ll let you.” 

“I think he’ll let me. I got the magic touch. But I’ll need you if he gives me any trouble. I’ll grab you another blanket.” 

However, when you turned around, Elijah had already pulled another out and sat it beside you. 

Of course he knows where we keep the spare blankets. 

You draped the extra blanket over him, gently ensuring it covered his entire body. Your hand rested on his shoulder for a brief moment before you turned to grab the few things you needed to care for Elijah.

“Thanks.” 

The word was soft, almost inaudible, but you heard and felt it all the same.

“You’re welcome. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” 

You gestured for him to follow you to your bedroom. You snapped the door shut, knowing you’d be in a world of hurt if your mama caught you with a boy in your room. But you’d accept whatever punishment she doled out. Caring for Elijah would be worth every minute. 

“Shouldn’t be in here. Your mama will…” 

“I told you, I don’t care bout none of that Elijah,” you offered as you went to sit your burning candle on your nightstand before turning back to his rigid form by the door. Now able to truly focus on him, you saw it. His pistol. 

The gun should’ve scared you, should’ve made you call for your daddy to talk to him. But you found that you were not in the least bit scared. All you saw in his eyes was exhaustion. Not anger, not rage… not an intent to cause harm. Just a weariness you were only familiar with in the eyes of the elderly, people who were haunted by too much.

It wasn’t fair. 

“You’re worth every bit of trouble I’ll be in.”

Your words seemed to almost startle him as if no one had ever considered him worth sacrifice. You could tell he almost could not process such an idea, such consideration and devotion directed at him. 

“Thanks for takin’ care of him,” he offered lowly as you closed the space between the two of you. 

“Don’t gotta thank me. He’s gon’ be alright. So you gon’ put that down ‘n let me take care of you now?” 

The old pistol shook as soon as you drew his scattered attention to it, likely for the first time since they stepped into your home. Now, no longer under the eye of his younger brother, the cracks in his iron wall started to show. 

Your hands slowly cradled his face as he tried to avert his gaze, his eyes glassy from tears he refused to let fall.

“Elijah… you’re safe now.” 

Silence. You did not repeat yourself, did not rush him to move or surrender his weapon or soul to you. That was not the way with Elijah. No, you just stood still beside him in the silence until he felt safe enough to move or speak. 

“I… I needed it,” he finally whispered, his words barely audible. “H-he wasn’t gon’ stop. H-He was j-just gonna keep on hurtin… N’ Elias… he- I thought he was-” his words splintered as he finally spoke life into whatever brought them to you. “I had to do it.”

You did not miss the implications in his words, how he spoke about his father as he was - not how he is. You foolishly assumed the blood had been Elias but now the look in his eyes told a very different story. Your eyes clenched shut for a moment, your head bowing in sadness. Not for the loss of his father’s life, he did not deserve to live given what he did to his own sons. But for what Elijah was forced to do to be safe, to be free. 

 “H-he hit em with it n… I… took it. I d-didn’t even think… just had to. Y-You gotta believe me, I didn’t… h-he was gonna-” 

Your hand moved to grab his free one as his sentences broke apart into pieces, frantic and erratic. He pleaded his case but you did not need to hear it. You saw what his father was capable of so you knew exactly what he feared, what your small corner of the world would believe. 

“Breath for me, Elijah.” You helped him take deeper breaths, your hand moving to his chest to ensure his heart rate slowed back down a bit. 

“I believe you, I know what you had to do, Elijah. But hey, look at me,” You gently lifted his chin so his solemn brown eyes were set on yours. His free hand gripping your hip to bring you closer to him. “It’s just me here. Just your girl. N I promised to be good to you so… you don’t need that in here, not with me.” 

He said nothing, an internal battle raging so loudly around him that you could almost hear the debate. To acquiesce the weapon would force him to confront what transpired, what they lost throughout their childhood, and what they lost today. And you did not know if he was ready for that just yet. But you’d stand here as long as it took for him to rest. 

“You can put it down. Just for while? Let me take care of you, Elijah. Please. Put it down for me, baby.” 

At your pleas, he lifted his hand, allowing you to pry the weapon from his fingers. It pained you to move from his presence, even for the few seconds it would take to stow the gun somewhere safely. In those few seconds, the tremble in his hands spread to his whole frame. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered as you rushed back up to him, enveloping him in the most tender hug you could muster. 

You could feel his surrender. First, of his body as he went slack, falling heavy and fully into your embrace. His legs gave way to his weight like paper beneath him, forcing you both onto the weathered wooden planks of the floor. 

Then, of his heart as he shifted you into his lap. He intertwined your bodies so tightly, you no longer were certain where he began and you ended. No space for the ancestors between you as you clung to each other as if you were the rarest of air. 

And his last and most vulnerable surrender of his soul as the dam finally burst and tears fell and sobs bubbled to the surface. 

Neither of you spoke, time simply slipped past you both without conscious thought because every thought was wrapped up in your private cocoon. You just allowed him the space to feel it all privately, and stayed exactly where you were so he knew he’d always have comfort. He’d always have you. 

Eventually, he shifted to look at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with the emotional and physical exhaustion of the day. Of his life. 

“Didn’t mean to… I’m sor-” he started to say but you would not hear it or accept it.

“Don’t apologize to me. Whatever you need, I’m here. You wanna lay down?” 

He nodded softly, allowing you to extrapolate yourself from his arms long enough to get off the floor. You led him gently to your bed, both of you climbing in without thought or hesitation. Your bodies were chaste but the energy around you cracked with intimacy, yearning, need. You kept a gentle hand on his arm while you laid facing each other. 

It was improper, you both knew, but you were not sure you cared. You were not sure you would have even been able to rest if he were too far from you. 

You often found yourself searching for Elijah, finding his presence in a crowded room before anyone else's. You did not quite understand it, how instinctual it felt to be near him. But it was the strongest you’d ever felt tonight, this irresistible pull to be as close to him as possible, decency be damned. 

“You think it makes me like him? Like everybody say?”  The words were so faint but the weight of them, the fear in his voice let you know if he had been scared to ask it, scared of the answer. “T-that I was able to… maybe I’m a monster too.” 

“No.” The sudden blaze in your eyes was fierce. "Never wanna hear you talk about yourself like that. He was the monster n you saved yourself. Freed yourself n your brother from him. That's all that matters.” 

“N you? You not… scared of me cause of what I did?”

“I could never be scared of you, Elijah. You’re my best friend. You hurt him to defend someone you love, defend yourself. N that’s brave… that’s strength n courage. N that tells me everything I need to know about your heart. Your soul. N the kinda man you’ll be.”

He seemed skeptical, even in the darkness. So you continued, taking his hand and bringing it to your chest, “I know who you are, Elijah Moore. You’re a protector… you’re loyal, devoted, kind, gentle. You could never be a monster… Not to me.” 

His hand rested tightly on your hip. Your bodies inched closer to each other, Elijah’s lips capturing yours. The first brush of his lips was light as a feather before he pressed in. Slow and deliberate as everything Elijah did was. 

If someone had stolen your heart right then, you imagined its glow would eclipse the moon. In his arms, you felt flooded with such light that you could shine as bright as the Sun outside. You’d never been kissed before, never felt the fire of another’s touch quite like this. But it was surreal, magic as if the ancestors had blessed this stolen moment.

You loved this boy. And he eliminated any confusion or doubt you had that such a love was reciprocated. It was and it was the sweetest freedom this world had to offer. Your soul felt as if it could float away with Elijah Moore and no one and nothing on this Earth could stop you. 

You whimpered as he pulled away, your body jerking forward in a bid to reclaim his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, pulling your body so you were flush against his chest. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. “Don’t know what’s next… what Elias n I gon’ do but I know I want you around. That I wanna be more than good to you as a friend.”

“I love you too, Elijah.”   

When you returned to the present, you realized you were not the only one who retreated into the past. That memory played like a film in both your minds, the only oblivious one seemed to be Stack who was contently rolling a cigarette, wanting for one of you to speak.

“Or at least one of you is,” you cleared your throat and threw him a teasing grin, desperate to stop the tension from rising to a boil. “Ancestors haven’t given me the final verdict on you yet, Stack.”

“I’ll just have to have a talk with em, then?” 

“They don’t respond to threats,” you reminded him with a playful grin. “Don’t think you’ll get very far.” 

“My powers of persuasion have evolved over the years, lil sis. They even work on you now.” He gracefully threw his hat back on his head as he stood, handing the cigarette he had been rolling in between bites of food to his brother. 

However, this time, he rejected it with a slight shake of his head as his hand reached for his pipe, still in the window sill where he always kept it. 

He caught your eye, which had softened at the exchange. Stack still rolled for him, not out of habit or kindness. But out of necessity. You hoped, when he first returned home from the war, that the tremors were temporary. That one day, he’d be able to do something other than hold a gun with a steady hand. Even though he’d proclaim, for your benefit, his gratefulness at being one of the “lucky ones.” 

“Just an unsteady hand n bad dreams,” he’d say. “Nothin’ worth cryin’ over. "

But you knew, back then, that he did not feel lucky when you examined the resigned and defeated look that haunted his eyes with every tremor. The pang of sadness in yours to see him struggle with a pain your gifts were not enough to heal, a pain that made you question whether all your prayers and work to keep them safe had been enough. 

Stack merely chuckled and handed over his lighter. “See nothin’ round here’s changed. Gonna grab a few hours of shut eye,” he gestured toward the spare bedroom in your home. 

“Go head. Smoke that o-“

“On the porch, I know I know. Whatever yall bout to do… just don’t be too loud. I need my beauty rest.” 

Before stepping outside, he walked up to you and pulled you into a tight hug. You were surprised at first before you leaned into it earnestly. He was not Elijah but there were wisps of comfort in Stack’s embrace, tendrils that wrapped around you with warmth and comfort. 

“You aight, lil bit?” His voice low as his own eyes examined you, reviving a nickname you'd once prayed would be left in the past.. 

The lighthearted smile on his face took a moment to reach his eyes, replacing the flash of real concern you spotted within them. As loyal and protective as his brother when it came to you. You had not realized just how much until now, but you had missed him so much too.

“Yea I’m ok. Think that twin of yours’ll believe me?” Your voice dropped a bit to a fake whisper, grinning as Smoke rolled his eyes. He always claimed you and Stack were “conspiring” to tease him, gang up on him. 

He chuckled before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Not a chance. Just glad we were…” He stopped himself, glancing at Smoke before allowing the unfinished words to settle in your kitchen as calmly as an off note on a piano.  

It felt wrong to remember it here. Breath life into it here. But you knew you would have to. Elijah would not allow you not too. 

“Me too,” you answered simply. “Thanks. And for bringin’ this one back to me in one piece.” 

“Anythin’ for you. Night,” he squeezed your hand one last time for good measure and clapped Elijah on the shoulder before disappearing out your back door. It creaked in the night air, a tense symphony to the long-awaited private reunion with your husband. 

You watched the door until it shut with soft finality. Restlessness, itchy and uncomfortable, spread in your chest as you two stared at each other. You glanced down at his plate, food still untouched. 

“How long?” 

Your eyes bored into him, not uttering a single word. Stretching and twisting his patience but you never particularly cared about that when your mind was focused on his well-being. When was the last time he even ate a real meal? Your eyes flickered his bowl and back up to him in a pointed fashion. A demand from his wife, one you knew he would not refuse. Elijah grunted his exasperation before eating two heaping spoonfuls to appease you.

Not enough to relax you but just enough to loosen your lips. 

“How long?” The new edge in his voice felt just as sharp and quick as a blade. Reiterating. Demanding. 

“Couple months. Hattie can’t stand on her feet for long anymore with her back. You know my brothers, they can only guard the door n try to fuck every girl that walks through it. Hattie said, ‘Needed somebody charmin’ n pretty to serve drinks n they ‘bout as charmin’ n pretty as rattlesnakes.’” 

He took another bite off his plate, your body slowly easing back into the counter Elijah’s hands crafted for you. This maddeningly sweet dance you two weaved since you were children. A battle of wills and instincts between a caretaker and a protector. Two sides of the same stubborn ass coin. But when you both demanded answers but also required care? It was a battle to see who would surrender control and lean into vulnerability first? 

Often, you succumbed first, soaking up the healing aura of Elijah for as long as you could spare. It had taken so long for him to convince you that it was not selfish to need him. To put yourself first. That it was not a burden to him as you feared, it was a privilege. 

But you were not sure you were ready to crumble just yet. You did not know whether you wanted to fall into his arms and weep, curse the ground he walked on for abandoning you, or just run into your bedroom and sob. And you knew he would push and force you to make a decision sooner rather than later. It was inevitable but you could buy yourself some time.

“But there won’t be a charming soul left in the family now when Hattie gets her hands on me for breakin’ all those bottles.” 

“Stack’ll talk to her in the mornin. Give her money for the liquor.” 

“Thank you. She got a softer spot for money than me.” 

“Everybody got a soft spot for money ‘cept you.” 

“I just know it don’t get you nothin’.” 

“Gives you freedom.” 

“No kind that’ll last. Real freedom ain’t tethered to somethin’ someone can take from you.” 

You bowed your head as your body leaned into the carved back of Stack’s former chair, silence surrounding you. It felt so familiar, countless minutes turned to hours spent in this kitchen while you worked or cooked and Smoke just sat with you. He just existed with you, let you talk his ear off or sit in utter silence. Whatever you needed in that moment, while he existed in your peace. 

“You alright?”

“Suppose so. Still standin’.”

“Been a minute. But you know that ain’t what I asked, darlin’.”

He knew no one understood him like you, understood the intention behind every word he spoke like you did. Often, he did not need to say anything at all. 

“I’m fine. It happens.” 

“Some other nigga put his hands on you?” His eyes flashed with red, his hand instinctively twitching toward his gun. 

“No, no. That ain’t what I… just that you know, men gettin’ drunk n too handsy at a juke ain’t exactly anythin’ uncommon. Shook me up a bit but no sense dwellin’ on it.” 

He said nothing, infuriating silence loud pounding your kitchen like the bass in the juke joint. 

“I’m fine, Smoke.” You attempted to reiterate. 

His hand paused as he started to bring his pipe up to his lips. You let out a sigh and cursed under your breath. 

Smoke. The fatal tell. If you used his moniker in this house, he knew one of two things were true: He was in trouble or you weren’t ready for him to be Elijah. Because there was no hiding with Elijah. Your love demanded authenticity, it demanded truth. Your deepest joys and purest happiness to the agonizing sorrows and terrifying vulnerabilities. In each other’s arms, there was no pretending.   

You tried to deflect, push the conversation back onto him before he could pick at that thread further. 

“You gon’ tell me why you came back? What trouble you and that fool out there brought back with you?” 

“No trouble this time.” 

“There’s always trouble chasin’ Stack. Which means there’s always trouble chasin’ you.” 

“No trouble chasin’ either of us. We did what we needed in Chicago, now we back.”  

“Why? For how long?” 

“For you. Only reason to come back. Now… you gon’ keep standin’ over there or come here so I can take care of you?” 

You raised your eyebrow, communicating that you were not ready to fall into his arms so quickly regardless of what he saved you from. He left you. You accepted it, you understood it, you justified it. But you would not pretend that it had not broken something in the depths of your spirit, leaving you lost without a piece of your heart for years.

And being back in his presence made every bit of it bubble up again. All that love, all that righteous rage, all that agony. You felt it. Those endless nights you laid awake sobbing resigned to living with the knowledge that - despite the depths of love you held for him - you weren’t enough to keep him here. The knowledge that life would be duller, so much darker without him and you'd just have to learn to live with that.

If you were going to open the floodgates again, let all the love you stored for him flow like waters through the Delta, you needed to know he was not just passing through. You needed to know that when the sun rose at dawn, he’d still be there. And when the sun would rise the next day and every day after, he’d still be here. With you. 

You wished you were strong enough to withstand such torment again. But you wouldn’t. Seeing him again, even wrapped in his silent steadfast energy again, you did not think you’d be able to survive without him again. So you needed to know he was not planning to abandon you again, that he was going to put in the effort to earn your trust.

“What if I don’t need you to take care of me anymore? Been takin’ care of myself fine… Tonight excludin’,” you muttered, acknowledging the miniscule raise of his eyebrow at your words. “But hardly your business to tell me I need takin’ care of when…” you stopped yourself, turning away from him in frustration and shame at what almost crossed your lips. You didn’t want to still be angry. Your fingers curled into a tight fist to stop yourself from unleashing all that suppressed hell and outrage on him. 

“Say what you gotta say, baby. I can take it.”  

“You… you left me here. Abandoned me here alone. Broke your promise for eight years." 

Your eyes glistened with tears, all that devastation threatening to boil over along with all the love you were struggling to maintain control over. There was not one without the other in a love like this.

”What if I’m still mad about that?” Your voice fell quieter, back to chewing your lip. “What if I’m still mad at you? What if I… hate you?”

The word did not even feel right directed at him. But that was what most women and men whose spouses ran off into the night felt. Hatred, deep and boiling, all consuming. Isn’t that what everyone would tell you to feel? To scream and curse him for leaving and then sauntering back as if nothing had changed. Some part of you desired to feel that, to just be angry. Anger was easier than confronting the hurt, all the nights you questioned your love, your worth. All the time lost without the person you could not live without. 

He tilted his head as he blew out a billow of smoke. He sat it gently by his ashtray, never taking his eyes off of you. 

“I’d deserve it. N I’ll spend every day of the rest of my days provin’ that I’ll still be good to you… like I promised.”

He stood up, slowly closing the space between you with calm and assured steps. He stood before you and all you wanted to do was touch him. Your hand twitched, desperate to rest on his chest, feel his hard-earned muscles beneath them, but you tightened a hand around your arm to stop yourself. Your body swayed as if his aura compelled you forward, a captivating drug enticing you to just surrender to him. You almost forgot why you were resisting. 

His hand cradled your cheek, a content sigh escaping without warning at his touch. Soft. Warm. Healing.   

“Yell at me, curse me… give me your worst, Y/N, for as long as you need, darlin’. I’ll take it. I’ll own it. Cause I love you. Never stopped lovin’ you. You get to be mad at me all you want. But I know he hurt you.” 

“N-No, he didn’t. You made sure of that.”

“Just cause he ain’t leave a bruise, don’t mean he ain’t hurt you, baby. Ain’t that what you told me?” 

“Hate when you repeat my words back to me,” you grumbled. 

“I know you do, baby. Can’t help that you’re always right.” His hand gently tilted your head so your eyes were focused on him. You knew he could see it all. The anger, the heaviness, the sadness… the guilt and shame. 

“I just wanna take care of you, like you’ve always done for me. If you’ll let me? Please.” 

His voice was the soft embrace of a prayer, the steadiness of a summer rain shower. You could see the warm fog that was him encompassing you, slowly eating away at the walls you erected when he left until there was nothing standing between him and your soul. 

In the contemplative silence, he retreated to his chair, sitting with his legs spread wide. An action that communicated your agency, that it was your choice whether to seek his comfort, seek his love. His words were a plea you could easily refuse. You could walk away, curse him as he suggested, and leave him alone at your table to feel a fraction of the rejection you did. 

But how would that heal you? You wanted to feel whole more than you wanted to be prideful. And only his anchoring spirit and tender touch could stitch you back together this time. 

Your steps toward him were tentative, each step increasing your courage. However, you stopped yourself just before he was at arm's length. He’d wait as long as it took, you knew. A natural nurturer and protector falling in love foretold some challenges. You each required patience, and a certain degree of coaxing, to strip yourselves bare. It was difficult, even with each other, to reveal the pieces of yourselves that were composed of glass, not steel. The pieces too fragile for another soul to hold. 

One final question. And you knew you couldn’t surrender without an answer. Because in those eight years, in that abyss of heartache, you had become more like glass than he remembered. And you would not withstand the blow of him leaving again, not if this was not permanent.

“You leavin’ again?” 

His eyes filled with sincerity, whatever was left of the boy you fell in love with and the man you married shining through. 

“Next time I leave you, it’ll be to leave this world. I’m not goin’ anywhere again.” 

His words loosened out the knot in your stomach, forcing you to nod. You had no other excuses, no other reasons not to feel everything the night conjured, every emotion consuming you. 

You stepped in between his legs, your hands gingerly resting on his shoulders as you stared down at him. His hands gripped the soft curves of your hips to bring you as close as humanly possible before perching you on his thigh.

Your hands slid up to cup his face, his beard tickling your palms. Your eyes stung as you just stared at him for a brief moment.

“Elijah,” you whispered his name like a blessing as your entire body finally gave in, sagging into him as you finally felt the weight of the last eight years. 

His broad hands tightened you to his hardened chest. If you leaned in any further, you’d be living in his skin. This was more than you could have dreamed. The callouses of hands against your skin, the soothing rise and fall of his calming breaths, his reassuring familiarity of his scent.

So perfectly him.

His natural musk from a long day in the Mississippi heat. The lingering hints of citrus in his cologne. The sting of gunpowder from defending your honor. Even the fading bite of copper from drying blood. Richly weaving the soothing scent of a man fiercely devoted to you. The soothing scent of home. 

And with every moment in his arms, it became harder to hold the rushing waters back. Your poorly constructed dam fracturing with every second he held you. Because this was the one thing time was not powerful enough to diminish. Elijah remained forever your healer, forever the one place you could retreat to feel everything. And you were his.  

“Look at me.” 

You did not heed his instructions, your body tensing against his from the shame.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You’re ok.” 

His patience. Steady and calm. He rubbed soothing circles against your back, he whispered assurances in your ear until you pried yourself out of his neck to look at him. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispered, his smile brighter than you’d ever seen it, a smile that reminded you he was your safe haven. 

The tears that welled up in your eyes immediately spilled over as they met his concerned ones. You tried to wipe them away but he stopped you. 

“I-I told him no, Elijah. I-I told him I w-was still yours. H-He just w-wouldn’t listen ‘n I got scared. N I j-just froze. I’m s-sorry. B-but I didn’t want him o-or that. You b-believe me, don’t you?” you stammered, your voice cracking as sobs threatened to escape your throat. 

You did not realize how your fingers dug into his jacket, gripping the wool fabric tightly as you begged him to understand. 

His hand massaged the base of your neck, the spot where all your tension resided, as he held your gaze to him. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Don’t apologize to me. Ain’t your fault. That the only time? He hurt you before?” 

You could see the anxiety and concern in his eye, the fear that the answer would be no. That all the threats of violence he left in his wake had not been enough to protect you from the realities and evils of many men. Abandonment forced you to question much about your marriage over the last eight years. But one truth you could not deny was that Elijah would unapologetically turn their corner of the Mississippi River into a graveyard to avenge you, to punish any other man who thought they could harm you and live to tell the tale. 

“Yea, only time.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Only time, I swear. Red is… was harmless, I thought.” 

He held your gaze for a singular moment longer than he needed before he allowed your eyes to fall away from his and he buried his face in your neck. 

“Only harmless man is a dead one,” he muttered into your supple skin.

“Well I imagine he very harmless now then?” 

“And restin’ for eternity at the bottom of the Mississippi River. No nigga in this town gon’ be a problem for you again. I know what I did ain’t how you wa-“

Your intention was to assure him that all you felt was gratitude for his actions. But the first brush of your lips against his set your soul ablaze. Whatever self control you believed you possessed vanished, you were as wild and untamed as flames as your hand cradled the back of his neck, the other clutching tightly to his suit. A carnal need to bring him closer than you’d ever been before.  

You held it back as long as you could, held onto the fraying threads for as long as possible. But they were broken and you needed him. More than a hug or kiss or sweet words. You needed him to strip you down and heal you from the inside out. 

Frantic. 

Desperate.

Hungry. 

Elijah did not often let you take the lead, did not often allow you dominance in the bedroom. But today, he allowed your lips and tongue to do whatever they craved. To consume him. 

It only ended with a need that superseded the desire flooding you. The frustrating human requirement to breathe. 

You rested your forehead against his, chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. 

“Thank you, Elijah.”

If you had not been on his lap, Elijah would have been hard-pressed to hear your words. your voice so soft, vulnerable, and sweet, everything he was not. You had never done that before. Specifically thanked him for his violence when it served you. Fussed at him for doing it against your wishes? Sure. Offered him a kiss shortly after fussing that he knew meant thank you, a reluctant understanding of how their world worked? More than once. But to utter the words? This was a first. And the only way he could think to properly acknowledge it was with a soft kiss. 

Slower. Measured. Intentional. As all things Elijah did was. His hands shifted your waist, turning you so you naturally straddled his lap.

“What do you need, darlin?” 

You sniffled. You allowed the comfortable silence you were accustomed to with Elijah to fill your space, calm the storm raging in your heart and soul. Slowly, those winds stopped lashing against your skin, the thunder quieted and you could find clarity again.

He was the only balm your soul needed, the only one that would work. 

“I need your hands to be the ones I remember touchin’ me… not his.” 

You knew the meaning was not lost on him, a quick flame of lust lighting in his eyes before he tempered himself. 

“You sure?” 

“Never been more sure of anythin’.” 

And that was all the permission he needed. In a fluid motion, he stood, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, his hands gripping your ass, as he walked you to your bedroom. He could not see a thing as he kissed you, his legs moving off instinct to your marital bed. 

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, his strong arms shedding his suit jacket before he sank down to his knees before you. He stared up at you with the reverence of a man staring at his reason for being. 

“You know I dreamed about you every day?” His steady low voice felt as smooth as honey, as calming as a soft summer breeze, against your soul. He kissed the top of your thighs as he pushed the cerulean blue silk fabric of your dress up.

“Your laugh, your smile, the way you feel in my arms… how you taste, your moans. Tried to come back to you so many times.”

“Why didn’t you?” You breathed out, everything in you aching for him. 

“I was a fool, baby. N I’ll spend every day makin’ it up to you.” 

His teasing touches proved he still knew how to expertly play the instrument that was you. Fine tuned to perfection, he knew every inch of you intimately. And the music he created? It summoned more than mere pleasure. It was a magic all its own, strengthening the glittering threads that connected your souls. In him, you saw the past. The present. And a new future.  

His fingers hooked into your panties, your hips lifting just enough for him to pull them off. You expected him to discard them to the side but instead he brought them to his nose, inhaling the scent drenched into the fabric. His eyes fell closed as he inhaled, a shuddering breath escaped him as if the scent of your slick injected him with new life. And then, he discarded them with a cheeky wink in your direction. 

His hands gripped the meat of your thighs, spreading them widely to reveal his promised land. He licked his lips, his eyes focused on the essence leaking from your folds, already creating a mess at the zenith of your thighs. You knew his intention by the glint in his eye and you instantly became aware of how long of a night it would be. Smoke could stay head down between your thighs for hours, unsatisfied until you were boneless. Until your brain was a vacant plane of yearning and pleasure. 

“I missed you too, baby. Lay back for me, darlin.” 

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer to the edge of your bed as you leaned back on the soft quilt. You did not lay down fully, choosing to prop yourself up on your elbows. Eye contact was an aphrodisiac for you both. To see the other in their most human element, so uninhibited. No one who knew you both would call you reckless. Tempered, steady, patient. But in these four walls, you could be wild. Watching him uncoiled something in your gut, unlocking a new altitude of pleasure to reach. 

His eyes locked onto yours as his tongue communicated what he did not have the words to. 

His agonizing remorse. 

His unyielding reverence. 

His everlasting devotion. 

His unquenchable thirst.

All for you. 

He poured it all into every stroke of his fingers into your weeping heat, every lick of his tongue against your sensitive button. You felt like a person gasping for air, every cell in your body struggling to consume him after being without it for just too long. 

“Elijah! It’s… too much!”

“That’s right, scream my name, baby. Missed hearin’ you scream my name.” He detached himself from your flower long enough to gift you with a soft nip to the inner thigh before returning to his favorite meal. 

It was almost too fast, how quickly you found yourself dangling from the edge of the cliff. The rocks rough against your palms as an oasis of bliss invited you to lose all control in it. But you found your brain would not allow you to let go, not just yet. You tensed as you inched closer to the point of no return but it did not feel as simple as it once was to give into him. 

“You can let go, baby. I’ll be here, I’ll catch you. Cum for me, sweet girl.” 

Some called you the witch, but what was he? What spell did he cast that gave him such control over you, mind, body, and soul? Only he could command your body to such a degree? That every barrier crumbled at his assurances, his word? That he knew the layers of your soul so intimately that he knew his actions had shaken your trust, your foundation. And that one night would not erase that. But it was proof that he would offer whatever assurances you required, as often as you desired, to knock down every barrier your brain erected. Brick by brick, for as long as it took to earn your forgiveness again.

“Fuck! Fuckkkk! I c-can’t… Elijah!” 

Your head fell back in ecstasy. Shuddering, shaking, breathless. The meager orgasms you gave yourself paled in comparison to what his skills provided. This was more than a reunion. It felt like a renaissance of your love, a revival of the sheer extent of joy he gave you space to feel. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, you taste too good. So sweet,” he lapped up your juices hungrily, sending continued jolts of pleasure as you fell back fully onto the comforter. 

“Elijah… please,” you moaned, your body twitching away from him from the overload of pleasure. 

Your curls had fallen out of the updo you had created for the night, your eyes half closed lazily as your hand rested on your chest. You just needed to catch your breath. You were lucky these days if your orgasms moved you with the strength of the creek near your home. Elijah’s were the force of the ocean, knocking you right off your feet. And yet, you did not know if you actually wanted him to give you reprieve. 

You were exhausted. But the chant building in the back of your mind was so much louder. More, more, more. 

And frankly, far more enticing. 

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” 

“Please… I need you.” You would rest plenty amongst the ancestors one of these days. As for tonight? Your words were colored in desperation to be filled to the brink. To feel everything your body harbored and release it into the world.

You watched as he stood up, just long enough to shed the rest of his suit. It accentuated his hard-earned muscles, taunt and straining against his thick physique. But as delectable as it looked on him, it would look far better on the floor. 

He unbuckled his pants, his eyes never leaving yours, as he pulled them off. 

You licked your lips, your eyes glossing over with lust as you took in his manhood. Hard, thick, and leaking just enough that you wanted to ignore the ache between your legs and steal a taste. You missed the weight of him against your tongue, the salty taste of his cum. But you knew he was not going to let you steal that treat just yet. He was as desperate to be inside you as you were for him to be. 

Your logical brain snuck to the forefront for a single moment, showing through in the faintest flicker of fear buried underneath fogs of lust in your eyes. His girth. Even when he made a sport of bending you over every surface in your home day after day, the stretch could still take your breath away. But eight years without him? Without nothing more than a finger or two? You would need him to take it a lot slower than he remembered.

Would that bother him? 

“See what you still do to me, darlin? How bad I need you?” 

His hand slid down your thigh as he kissed you before gripping your hips. He lined himself up with your weeping entrance. However, he paused as your body tensed beneath him, anticipating the sharp pain of his thrust. 

“What’s wrong, darlin?” 

“N-Nothin’.” 

“It’s somethin’. You wanna stop? We ain’t gotta-” 

“NO! No!” You almost shouted, Smoke holding back laughter at the aggrieved look on your face at the idea that you’d ever want this to end. You glanced up at him with your perfect doe eyes and whispered, “It’s not that. It’s… silly.” 

Elijah shook his head as he lazily rubbed his tip along your entrance, coating it in your juices and teasing you. “You ain’t never said nothin’ silly to me. I ain’t movin’ till you talk to me.” 

Maybe we do hate him, you seriously considered for a moment. When all you desired was a hiding place, the man you fell in love with would never allow you to wallow in darkness. It was why you fell in love with him, even if you hated it sometimes. 

“I just… haven’t been with anyone since you left. Not like this, anyway. N I remember what you like. Just… may need you to go a little easy on me at first, baby.” 

“Worried you can’t take me, baby?” The heat of his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged against your neck. His touch was so featherlike, you questioned whether he was actually touching you. “Cause I know you can. My girl can take me. Just relax n I’ll go as slow as you need.” 

A lesser man would’ve just sheathed himself in your heat without consideration to the hesitation in your muscles. He likely would not have even noticed. But not Elijah. 

He sucked at a sweet spot on your neck, his greatest discovery on his many voyages of your body, to add bursts of pleasure to the painful sting as he pushed inside you. 

“Shit, shit, shit. Elijah… i-It hurts,” you cried out at the familiar stretch of being filled by him. 

“Deep breaths, darlin’. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

He kept his eyes on you as he sank deeper and deeper into them, and you. You breathed through it, feeling every inch of him fill you again, your soft whimpers and moans instructing his pace. When he bottomed out inside you, he held you there for a few moments, letting you adjust to it.

Your eyes connected for a moment and it felt as if the world cracked open around you. Everything else sifted away like sand. There was no him. No you. Just a love so eternal, it floated you above to the heavens before gently guiding you back home.

“Fuck. You’re takin’ me so well, darlin.” 

For Smoke, you knew slow only meant cautious. His strokes remained as deliberate and powerful as you once remembered. However, today, he maintained a pace that forced you to remember what every inch of him felt like. 

His grip on the meat of your hips was tight as if he worried something would steal you from right beneath him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked into you with controlled precision, his entire being focused on bringing you pleasure.  

“Yes! Shit, Elijah! I love it, I love it.” 

“You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy, baby? I can tell this fuckin’ tight pussy missed me, darlin’.” 

“You f-feel soooo good, Eli… don’t stop. Ah!” You cried out at the uncomfortable stretch in the back of your thighs as he brought your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him fuck you deeper. 

A litany of curse words flooded your room as you felt him deep in your guts as he fucked you slow and hard. Your eyes rolled back into your head as every stroke forced you deeper into your mattress. 

“No nigga gon’ touch what’s yours n what’s mine again, you understand? You’re mine.” His words were punctuated by the loud slaps of skin as his hips hit the back of your thighs with every thrust. “Tell me whose you are, baby?” 

“I’m yours!” You panted, your heart fluttering like a sea of swallowtails in the wind at his declaration. And there was no one else’s you’d rather be.  “I l-love you. Fuckkkk, I love you.” 

You felt as if time slowed down for you or perhaps you were too enthralled in each other as he showed you the secrets of this universe time after time after time. He had no reason to rush as he moved you from position to position and forced you to feel every moment in each one. You screamed his name over and over again as he fucked you with abandon. 

The closer he came to, what you knew would be his last release for the night, he had lost all control. Your body fell into his as he pounded into you, your thighs giving out while you rode him. Your body breathless and utterly spent. But you both were chasing one last high, the perfect explosion of euphoria that would allow you to collapse in a heap of limbs until midday tomorrow. 

“Eli… baby.. I-it’s too much. I c-can’t…” 

“Don’t run from me, darlin’. You can take it, pretty girl. Last one for me,” he demanded, the vibrations of his voice enthralling you like a spell you could not withstand. 

He pounded into you, your pussy clenching around him as you felt your orgasm build. 

“Where you want it, darlin’?” He asked, his words accentuated with grunts as he bounced your body up and down on his dick.

You could barely formulate thoughts, your mind a canvas with his name painted over and over again. You just wanted to feel him. You were spent, your body maxed out and you still craved more? To feel every single thing he could offer? 

“Inside me, baby!” 

“Don’t say that shit to me, Y/N.” His voice was a lethal warning. A dangerous proposition that you both knew would unleash a feral side of Elijah, a man possessed. 

But that was exactly what you wanted. What you needed. 

“Need you to fill me, baby. Please,” you unabashedly begged into his ear, tears streaming down your face from the force of his strokes.

“Gonna fuckin’ flood this sweet ass pussy, fill you with my baby. You’d like that? Keep you in here, safe, round n pregnant?” Every word accompanied his most powerful strokes of the night, reaching places you believed to be anatomically impossible. 

But you asked for this, demanded it actually. And you did not have an ounce of regret. 

You crashed first as a last particularly deep thrust sent you tumbling off the summit. Your toes curled as he thrust into you final time, your orgasm only continuing in waves as you felt him fill you with warmth. 

Your orgasm faded slowly as you felt him pulsing like a heartbeat inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He held you against him for a few moments, giving you both a moment to get your boots solidly planted on solid Earth. But there was also some small part of you that just did not want him to move, did not want this moment to end even though it lasted all night. 

He let you feel him deflate inside you, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as he held you close. You whimpered when he finally released himself from your warmth, shifting your boneless frame into a new position. 

“Stay right there, baby. Hold on.” 

“As if I could go anywhere,” you muttered lazily, you imagined your legs would work about as well as a newborn baby’s. 

Your eyes started to fall shut in the few short moments it took him to grab a wet towel to clean the mess between your thighs. Once he was satisfied, he lifted your body and repositioned you so you were resting on your pillow. 

Elijah walked around to his side of the bed, everything on his nightstand exactly as he left it. He had been so worried, scared that he would not recognize you or this place when he returned. He would’ve understood it, accepted it. He left, not you. But it would’ve been a difficult hurt to reckon with. 

Time ensured that things had evolved. You had grown older, wiser, as he had, more slick at the mouth like Stack than he remembered. But the core of you, the girl he fell in love under a live oak tree? She was still standing, still as steady, vibrant, and uniquely her as he remembered.

Smoke had seen all the jewels and all the suffering this world offered its hands. He’d traveled every part of this world with his other half to find it, the amount of money or power to feel like no one could have power over them again. But no trucks filled to the brim of money could make him feel a fraction of the freedom you did. He had not needed to go searching for more when he had you and his brother. That was everything that mattered. 

He slid into his side of the bed and immediately brought you into his chest. Muscle memory. Your soft brown eyes opened long enough to savor one last look at him before sleep consumed you. Your fingers played in the coarse hair of his beard as he brought your thigh to drape over his, allowing you to be as close as possible. 

“Never thought I’d have this again. Thank you for comin’ back to me,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Don’t thank me. I shouldn’t’ve left. N I’m sorry. But I’m gonna make it up to you like I said.” 

“I know you will, Elijah Moore,” you grinned at him. “But don’t think we ain’t still havin’ that fight tomorrow,” you warned. 

He would gladly fight with you all day if that was what you needed to heal, to move forward. 

“I don’t expect nothin’ else.” 

His lips curled into a rare smile, not his half one. But a true smile, as small as it was, it flooded your world with the light of the Sun. Decades with him and your heart still skipped a beat when Elijah Moore smiled at you. Your eyes welled up with tears as you savored the moment. 

“Still make you cry that easy, huh?” He teased. “With just a smile?” 

You gently swatted at his shoulder in faux annoyance. “Thought you’d given me your last smile a long time ago, I guess.” Your hand rested on his chest as he held you. “I missed it.” 

“I’ll always give you a smile, Y/N. And my shoulder,” he winked at her, an ode to their history. Rich and long it was, but it still felt like yesterday. 

He opened his arms, inviting you to snuggle into his chest in your preferred sleeping position. Your cheek rested against his chest, the light thumbs of his heart lulling you to sleep. A sigh of relief and contentment escaped your lips as you settled against him, his arms tightening around you.

Sleep came easier than it had in eight years. You were finally home.

Tag List: @marley1773 @deexoxomuah @childishgambinaax @klford92 @httpsangelsstuff @wh0smarleyaa @wingedpeachjudgegiant @harleycativy @kaylaahisthebestest- @reci1996 @aenorris @sgringcndy @daughterofapollo-7 @margepimpson @christinabae @milesf4vg1rl @melodyofmbaku @ziayamikaelson @darkskin-barbie @jackierose902109 @ninacutebee16 @ladybuglover98 @Marley-444 @rottenb0diez @goochsmooch86 @tsukis-short-gf @kksmush @kiribakushipper04 @addelinedarling @brincessbarbie @asterizee @ianii-i @minispice-1 @heyitstial @hotebonynearby @youngestxhearts @lewispool @vaintya1 @pinkpantheris @joysofmyworld @lilgreensunshine @aritoocute @strengthandstay @itsizzythebell @pinkpillzsworld @sarcastic-sunshines @snowtargaryen @nightwitchlurker @simba2220 @motheroffae @tomiwaslibrary @marieglitters @mirapril @afroslacks @favoritten @bitternsweet @fuzzycucumber @rosey1981 @he4rts444mi @selena8712 @fadingbelieverexpert @lizbehave @sheri42james @watermelon-online @shybabythings @greekgods15 @holdyuhmuda @brownskincheyenne @endlesslychaoticmantis

***

A/N: It's 2 am, idk who I think I am being up this late but when I tell y'all I was on a ROLL hahaha anyway, this became so much longer than it should've and took too long (sorry!) butttttt had to do big daddy justice hahaha

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!

Also I got a lot of the tags but not everyone! So sorry!! I'll update when it isn't 2 am lol

[lieslab]

This is a place where I feel at home

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: After dance practice, you collapse with a seizure.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Requestee, you specifically asked for this. I know seizures can look different and vary from person-to-person, based upon the type of seizures and diagnosis, so I just did a general overview. I hope I managed to write something, that's difficult irl for you, and create something that can make you smile <3 (actually, I hope it makes you laugh)

_ _ _

Sweat seeped out of every pore. In the center of the group, all nine of you became a single entity. Breathing, moving, and creating movements that rippled through time. You were soaked in your own sweat. The collar of your shirt clung damply to your neck. It stuck between your armpits, but there wasn’t time to pull it away from your skin. 

Stomps echoed and the swell of music caused your fingers to stretch in front of you. You grabbed the open air before jerking your body back and fitting between an open pocket of empty space. Between Han and Seungmin, your lungs heaved for air, but none of you stopped. There wasn’t any time. 

You spun and rocked your weight from one foot to the other in a hop motion. Another twirl, bigger arm movements, and the facial expressions didn’t matter yet. You lost count of how many times you’d gone through all these motions. Another dance practice, another day spent losing yourself in the music. Your lungs ached, but you didn’t complain. 

You lived for this. All the sweat didn’t matter. You caught glimpses of everyone in the mirror. You still didn’t understand how one choreographer taught all nine of you the dance moves. Over and over again, she went over the moves and helped you turn your body on time. Each movement translated to the beat and you flew again. 

“Come on! You’re nearly finished! Keep up the energy!” 

Behind you, she stood in the corner watching your formation. Her eyes swayed from person-to-person, trying to make sure nothing seemed amiss. It all ran perfectly, just like she imagined it to go. Everyone moved like she wanted them to. 

When the song came to an end, loud claps came from the same corner. “Great job everyone! You did so well!” 

Han was the first to sink to his knees. Muscular arms stretched outward in his sleeveless black top. “Oh, god. My arms are on fire, I think I’m going to die.” 

The muscles in your arms felt the same way. No matter how much you danced, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the burning sensation from swinging your arms around so much. You chuckled at his antics, shook your head, and went to your bag to grab your water.

Changbin’s laughter cut through the air. He pointed at Hyunjin, making fun of him. “Look at you, you’re practically drowning in your own sweat.” 

“I don’t have the energy to fight you right now.” 

“Looking good as per usual, hyung,” Felix teased. 

A hand ran through Hyunjin’s hair. Sweaty strands jerked back and fell right back into his face. He huffed and collapsed beside Han. “Ugh, I wanna go home, but I think I need to take five. Just a few minutes to catch my breath.” 

You’d been with the guys for so long, the scent of combined sweat didn’t bother you anymore. You’d gone nose blind to it, but you could feel the warmth of the room. The heat that built from moving bodies, flying limbs, and the stuffy contained feeling that caused your skin to itch. 

“Hey.” A finger reached out and poked you in the back of your shoulder blade. You turned around to find Minho staring at you. “Am I taking you home today, or are you going with one of the other guys?” 

“I wanted to go with you, if that’s okay. Chan, Changbin, and Han are all staying over. I don’t know what the rest of the guys are doing.” 

Minho spun around to face everyone else and his voice raised. “Who needs a ride back to the dorms?” 

Felix and Seungmin’s arms shot up. Jeongin glanced up from digging in his backpack. “Wait! Don’t make me drive back alone! Yongbok, be my passenger princess.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“I guess that means I’m with the cat and dog,” you mumbled beneath your breath. 

“What was that?” Minho asked. 

“Nothing.” 

He blinked multiple times and shook his head. “Alright, Seungmin, let’s go.” He walked beside the leather couch, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the door. 

You barely had time to grab your bag and follow him. Seungmin rushed after both of you. He waved to the guys, promised Felix he’d see him back home, and hurried into the hall. You and Minho were already halfway down it. From the practice room, Hyunjin grumbled, insisting that nobody loved him because nobody wanted to ride home with him. It didn’t take long for Changbin to straddle his back and confess his love. 

In the air conditioned hall, you grabbed your water bottle and slowly sipped, relishing the cool water. The insulated bottle kept your ice water cold. When it came to days like this, you were always thankful for it. You spent a pretty penny on it, but it came from the recommendation of Chan. He used the same brand and always liked having cold water at his disposal, no matter the day. 

“Can you two slow down?” Seungmin called out. “You’re acting like race horses and we have nowhere to be right now.” 

“I have a place to be, it’s called the shower. I don’t know about you, but it’s calling my name.” Minho rushed down the stairs. “I’m in a hurry to get there because, unlike you, I don’t try to attract people to me via my scent.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

You chuckled at their antics and took your time going down the stairs. In the lobby, a group of trainees was being addressed by their own manager. When the group spotted the three seniors, they ducked into a respectful bow. You smiled and waved at them. Blushes and shy eyes looked away. Seungmin greeted them back and Minho dropped a respectable nod. 

All three of you knew what it was like meeting senior groups. The butterflies and nerves came fluttering back. It’d been years ago, but you remembered it like it was yesterday. As you walked past them, nostalgia hit you hard. 

Minho held the door open for you and you thanked him. When it came to Seungmin, he let the door go before he walked through the exit. The door started to retract and bumped into Seungmin as he left the building. “Real mature. Thanks a lot, hyung.” 

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

“I’m getting the passenger’s seat.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I’m calling dibs.” 

“Overruled. It’s my car and I pick the assigned seats.” Minho glanced back at you. “You can have the passenger’s seat.” 

Your head shook. “No, that’s okay. Seungmin can have it if he wants it.” 

“Did you not hear me? I said I pick the assigned seats. You’re up front with me.” 

“Yeah, okay. Seungmin?” You spun around. “Give me your bag and I’ll put it in the trunk.” He tossed his duffle bag in your direction, you caught it with a grunt. 

Minho pressed a button on his key fob and the back of his trunk retracted. Without complaint, you headed over and placed your bags in his trunk. Seungmin threw open the back door and slipped inside. Just as he was about to buckle, Minho tossed his bag between the driver and passenger’s seat, causing it to slam into Seungmin’s chest. “Hold that.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“Did I stutter? Can you hear?” His eyes narrowed. “Should we take you to a doctor and get your ears cleaned out? They’re probably full of wax. No wonder why you don’t listen to what you’re told.”

“Real mature.” 

You shut the trunk and looked over. Afternoon slipped into an early evening. The tangerine sky laid with highlights of soft pink. Supple streaky white clouds rolled warmth into your heart. It’d been a while since you’d been out of work early enough to catch the sunset before it faded into darkness.  

Seungmin huffed and pushed Minho’s bag to his side. It stayed upright on the leather seats. Minho looked in the rearview mirror and glared. “Hey, I said hold onto that.” 

“I’m not holding your bag the entire drive home.” 

“You have no respect for your elders.” 

“And the only thing you’re good at is bossing today’s youth around. I’m sorry you're bitter because your joints creak and your back aches. Don’t take it out on me, take it up with your geriatrician and try some fish oil pills.” 

“What the hell did you just say to me, punk?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and jerked around in his seat. “Say it again and see what happens.” 

“I said take it up with the doctor that specializes in old people!” 

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

“Do you kiss anyone at all?” 

Minho lunged back, trying to smack the back of Seungmin’s head, but Seungmin ducked down, just narrowly avoiding it. “Missed me, asshole.” 

“Come here!” 

Meanwhile, your hand expanded outwards and you reached out for the side of the car. You mumbled Minho’s name, but he couldn’t hear it as he argued with Seungmin. It became a sixth sense, an inkling that you were on the verge of something happening. You tried again, softly calling out for Seungmin, but it didn’t work. 

Light fractured and your body caved in. Knees buckled and you tried to stay upright, but your fingers caught nothing, only the smooth black paint of Minho’s car. A loud thud and a sharp pain filled your head. The sharp colors of the sky blended into a watercolor painting. An empty static and then the eerie silence of nothingness. 

The moment a loud bang came from the back of the vehicle, Minho stopped reaching for Seungmin and glanced out the trunk window. “Hey, where’d they go?” 

“Weren’t they just putting the bags in the trunk?” 

“Yeah, but they did and– ah, shit.” 

Seungmin’s eyes widened and he jerked his car door open. It wasn’t always, but you did have seizures every so often. Usually, the guys tried to keep an eye on you, but their actions were limited. You couldn’t spend your whole life being watched twenty-four-seven. He slammed his car door shut and rushed around the car. 

Minho cursed and dropped down beside your shaking body. Every muscle in your body tensed and you jerked unconsciously. A faint noise left your throat. Unaware of it all, there was nothing you could do to stop your brain from firing in all the wrong ways. Muscles spasmed and your fingers twitched.  

“Help me get them onto their side!” Minho barked. 

Seungmin dropped down on your other side. Together, they worked to shift you onto your left side. One of your shoes dug into the cement and scraped across the pavement in the process. He popped up over your body, opened the truck, and quickly unzipped his bag. Minho glanced up in confusion. 

“Here, use this to stabilize their head.” He pulled out a hoodie and folded it into a square. 

Minho grabbed it and gently worked it beneath your head. “There you go. It’s okay, we’ve got you.” 

Seungmin’s hand reached out and grabbed your top ankle. He tried to be cautious, but also stop you from jerking back onto your back. The recovery position, laying on your side, is important when a seizure is active. Minho’s hand hovered above your shoulder. If you jerked back, he gently steadied you. 

“Should we call for an ambulance?” 

“Not unless it doesn’t stop. We’ve been over this, remember?” 

“I know, but I still worry.” 

“We have to trust that they know their own body.” 

For so long, you’d dealt with seizures. Your doctor tried medicine to stabilize you, but sometimes your brain had a mind of its own. You just had to wait for them to pass on their own. 

When it finally stopped, you didn’t know if you were still in your own body. Dance practice already made you sore, but a seizure and aggressive tensing muscles made it so much worse. You sucked in a sharp breath and your eyes fluttered open. 

Minho uttered your name and carefully cupped your face. You groggily looked up, but it sounded like you were beneath water. Whatever he said, you couldn’t understand it fully. Seungmin’s worried face appeared next to his. Your eyes shut. 

“What’s happening?” Seungmin whispered. 

“Exhaustion. Their body totally just freaked out on them. It’s not easy to handle.” Minho called your name again. This time, you could finally understand what he said. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m going to pick you up and take you back inside, okay? We’re just going to make sure you’re stable before we put you in a moving car and take you home. Do you need anything?” 

“My water.” 

“Let’s get you inside and you can have some. This concrete can’t be comfortable. Seungmin, get the water. Is your head okay? There’s a red spot on your forehead. I think you slammed the bumper of my car when you fell.” 

You shrugged, still feeling a little out of it. Minho’s strong arms slipped beneath your body. He stood up, scooped you into his chest, and slowly walked back to the company building. “If you need something, just let me know.” 

“Okay.” 

You were quiet all the way back upstairs. The pair chose the elevator and Minho instructed Seungmin to press all the buttons. Chan, Changbin, and Han were all in one of the recording studios. When Minho arrived with you in tow, the three of them glanced over. 

“What happened?” Chan asked. 

“Seizure in the parking lot.”

They were up within seconds, worrying about you. You wanted to be embarrassed, but you couldn’t be. Your head felt so fuzzy and you were tired. Minho gently placed you onto the couch. Your eyes reopened. 

“Are you okay?” Changbin approached you first. “Do you need anything?” 

“My water.” 

Seungmin handed it to Changbin. He helped you sit up and watched as you took a few sips of the cool water. Multiple pairs of eyes fell on you, but you tried to ignore it. You didn’t like being the center of attention, but in times like this, you didn’t get a choice. 

Han finally appeared and slowly slipped behind your legs. “You’re sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired.” 

“Do you want to stay here for a bit? Chan, Changbin, and I were just about to rearrange our next song. It’s a ballad, so it shouldn’t cause your head to ache.” 

“Or I can take you back home,” Minho added. “With Seungmin, it’s up to you.”

“Can I stay here? I just wanna rest.” 

“Of course. Seungmin, let’s head out and give them some space. We can’t have you stenching up the place with your wet dog scent.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Minho waved him to the door. He rolled his eyes, placed your bag beside the couch, and headed away. “Whatever. Take care, you know where to find us if you need us.” 

“If they make it home without murdering each other,” Chan joked. 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” 

Your eyes shut, but you listened to the bickering with amusement. Their taunts would never get old. Changbin glanced at you once more before heading back to one of the chairs in front of the recording booth. 

Han gently patted your legs. “I’m going to stay right here beside you. Maybe if I’m here, I can keep the seizures away. Like a mosquito repellant, but for seizures.” 

“You think so?” You asked.

“I hope so.” 

Chan shut the door and sighed. “I guess it could be worse. The other three went home earlier.” He headed back to the spot beside Changbin. “Maybe it’s better they’re not here because-” 

The door jerked open and Hyunjin rushed in, nearly tripping over himself. He called your name with worry and dropped in front of the couch. “Are you alive? Are you a ghost? Tell me you can still see me! How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Hyung, Minho said not to bother them and let them rest.” Jeongin entered the room with crossed arms. “You’re going to stress them out more.”

“Am I not allowed to worry? How many fingers? You’re not responding!” 

“Probably because their eyes are shut.” 

Your eyes reopened at the sound of Felix’s voice. He placed an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder and waved at you. “Hey, we heard what happened from Minho. We just came to see if you’re okay.” 

“I thought the three of you went home?” Chan uttered from his spot. 

“Oh, yeah, we were going to, but-” 

“I don’t want to drive home alone!” Hyunjin whined. “It’s like nobody in this group loves me. I stole Jeongin’s car keys and he keeps chasing me and trying to get them back.” He called your name. “Tell Innie that he can’t drive home with Lix. I need a passenger princess, too.” 

The worry from your seizure melted away a little. Your seizures were serious and always would be, but with the antics of the guys, you couldn’t worry for long. Before you could speak, Minho appeared. “Hwang Hyunjin, I’m about to roast your ass in the airfryer. Get over here!” 

“I had to make sure they were still alive!” 

“I’m about to make ferret kabobs in the next five seconds if you don’t leave.” 

“But hyung!” 

Chan groaned and rubbed his face. “I can’t believe I picked all of you and have to put up with all of this years later.” 

“Who wants to try a wolf kabob next?” Minho asked. 

Every single hand went up, including yours.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike @bokkiesluv

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Ko-fi

[layaispunk]

you're gonna put me in so much trouble, darling

PART TWO TO 'you better behave, darling'

part 1 here | masterlist

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

warnings: UNPROTECTED P IN V SMUT 18+ minors dni, praise, dirty talking, joel is a little lonely, mentions of sex toys

the next day, the sun was already unforgiving by noon, turning your quick errand into a sweaty, miserable journey. you’d just wanted a few things. your favorite body scrub, your favourite coffee pods, and some tampons, and now you were sitting in the parking lot cursing at your steering wheel.

“come on,” you muttered, turning the key again. nothing. you tried again. still nothing.

you slapped the wheel with a groan, leaned back in your seat, and stared at the blistering sky. your car couldn’t start, so you had no ac. your skin was sticking to the seat. you were dying.

you called your mom first, straight to voicemail. 

then you called your dad. he answered after a minute, and you told him what was going on with a frustrated sigh.

“i’d come get you, kiddo, but i’m stuck at the site all day. we’re behind on drywall.”

you bit your lip. “i’ll call a tow, it’s fine.”

“don’t be silly,” he cut in. “joel’s home today. why don’t you give him a call? he can swing by in his truck and take a look. y’know he knows that stuff better than i do.”

your stomach dropped. of course.

you sat in silence for a second, your heart already racing with the memory of last night. that kiss. that bathroom. his hand over your mouth. and now you were gonna have to call him? after you gave him your underwear at a family bbq night?

“uh-huh,” you said weakly. “sure. yeah. i’ll… do that.”

“call me if you need anything, alright?”

you hung up, sighed, and stared out the windshield. you could feel a headache brewing.

“this is what i get,” you muttered to yourself. “literally manifested this. jesus christ.”

your thumb hovered over joel’s name in your phone. you rolled your eyes at yourself, calling him before you could chicken out.

he picked up immediately.

“hey,” he said, voice low and familiar. too familiar. “you okay?”

your lips parted, caught off guard by how fast he answered. and how steady he sounded.

“i—uh—my car won’t start,” you said, squinting against the glare on the windshield. “i’m at in the parking lot at tee’s. my dad said you might be home?”

a pause. 

“i’ll be there in five.”

the inside of joel’s truck was cool, thankfully. but you felt the heat anyway.

your thighs stuck to the seat. you fiddled with the hem of your shorts. he hadn’t said much after he pulled up, just popped the hood, told you to get in his truck in the ac, and talked to his mechanic friend who came to tow the car. his voice had been low. gruff.

now, with both of you sitting there in silence, the air felt charged. like something unsaid was pressing against the windows.

you cleared your throat. “thanks for coming. i didn’t think you’d pick up that fast.”

joel kept his eyes on the road. “wasn’t doin’ anything important.”

“still. you didn’t have to drop everything.”

he glanced at you, briefly. “you called.”

you opened your mouth to say something. what, you weren’t even sure. but nothing came out. so you just nodded, lips pursed, fingers still fidgeting in your lap.

he shifted his grip on the steering wheel. “you alright?”

the question sat between you like a loaded gun.

“do you regret it?” 

joel’s eyes flicked over to you, confused. “hm?”

you looked at him now, heart thudding. “last night.”

he took a deep breath. his fingers tightened just a little on the steering wheel as he looked back at the road.

“no,” he said finally. “do you?”

you shook your head. “no.”

a few seconds passed before he spoke again. voice lower now, rough around the edges. “i just don’t understand why you’d want anything to do with me.”

that made you look over at him again. joel kept his eyes ahead, his jaw tense, like he didn’t want to say it but couldn’t stop himself. “i’m twice your age. your dad would kill me. like, literally kill me, baby. we’d both be dead.”

you swallowed, heart catching at the way he said baby like it slipped out without thinking.

he exhaled. “i keep thinkin’ maybe you’re just feelin’ lonely. or bored. i mean… i’m sure there’s guys who’d throw themselves at you if you looked their way.”

that stung a little. and it showed in your face.

you let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking to him. “if you don’t see me like that, just tell me. i’ll stop. but i guess…” you paused, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “i’ve had a crush on you for a while. i’m not scared to tell you that.”

joel was quiet for a long beat, eyes fixed on the road like it held the answer.

then, finally, he spoke low, like it cost him something to admit. “i do want you, darlin’.”

your breath caught.

“it’s just…” he shook his head, voice gravel-thick. “it’s risky. we need to be careful, alright? we barely made it out alive out of that fuckin' bathroom, honey.” he chuckled.

his hand flexed slightly on the wheel like he was holding himself back from doing something reckless, like reaching for you.

“i don’t wanna ruin things. or have your dad stormin’ over with a shotgun, looking to bury me in the yard.”

the corner of your mouth lifted, a tiny, involuntary smile.

“so what is this?” he asked, voice a little sharper now. “sex? is that what you want from me? you want someone older to mess around with?”

you blinked, taken aback. 

“what’s happenin’ here, baby?” he asked again, quieter this time. “you gotta tell me. are you bored? lonely?”

you laughed, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “that what you think of me? that i’m just some kid playing games? you think i take my panties off for just anyone when i’m bored?”

joel looked at you. 

“i like you, okay? if you don’t feel the same, just tell me. but don’t act like im a reckless girl with nothing better to do than to throw herself at her dad’s friends.”

when you arrived to your cul-de-sac, joel parked in between your houses. he lived painfully close to you. 

he glanced over at you, one hand still on the steering wheel. “you wanna come in? for a beer?”

you hesitated, “yeah. sure.”

the walk to his front door was short, but it felt longer with him beside you, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. 

inside, the house was familiar. lived-in. comforting.

joel made his way to the kitchen, pulling two beers from the fridge and cracking one open for you. you took it from him with a soft thanks and leaned against the counter, watching him.

“so,” you started casually, trying to sound nonchalant, “when do you think i’ll get my car back?”

joel took a slow sip before answering.

“called my guy soon as we got there,” he said, setting his bottle down. “slipped him a twenty to move it up the list. you should have it back by wednesday afternoon. 

you blinked. “but that’s in 3 days. i need my car, joel.” 

he leaned back against the counter, “don’t worry ‘bout it. i’ll drive you anywhere you need to be. how’s that sound?”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool but failing miserably. “oh yeah? you offering chauffeur services now?”

“only for you.”

you raised a brow. “got nothing better to do?”

joel shrugged, running a hand over the back of his neck. “not really. summer’s brutal for work. we don’t do much when the sun’s beating down.”

you smirked. “sounds like you’re kinda lonely, huh?”

he glanced at you with a small grin. “maybe a little.”

“well, i got nothin’ better to do either,” you said, stepping a bit closer. “could keep you company for a while.”

you don't know how, but you successfully managed to convince him to come over to your place and use your pool. your parents were still at work, so you took full advantage of the empty house.

joel had gone inside to grab a swimsuit while you practically sprinted home to pick out the cutest bikini you had. 

now, you were floating on your back in the cool water, letting the heat of the day melt away.

from the pool steps, joel sat with a beer in hand, the sunlight catching the slight curl of a smile on his lips as he watched you splash around. 

you were feeling mischevious. you swam over to the deeper part of the pool with a grin.

“hey,” you called out, voice low and teasing. “there’s something down here.”

joel raised an eyebrow, setting his beer carefully on the step. “what kinda something?”

“don’t know,” you shrugged, eyes sparkling as you glanced up at him. “but you might wanna check it out.”

curiosity got the better of him. he leaned forward over the pool’s edge, squinting down into the water.

right then, you shot out your hand.

“hold on,” you said sweetly.

he was confused, but he took your hand anyway. before he could even react, you tugged hard and pulled him into the water.

joel’s surprised yelp turned into a laugh as he splashed right into the deep end, water rising fast around him.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” he sputtered, coming up with a wide grin.  

you couldn’t help it. laughter bubbled up from deep inside you, bright and genuine, echoing over the water.

joel blinked, eyes wide, clearly caught off guard. he’d never heard you laugh like that before.

he shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. without a word, he reached out, cupping your face gently and pulling you down into a kiss.

the world shrank down to just the two of you, the sun warming your skin, the cool water lapping around you. his mouth deepened the kiss, tongue tracing your lips, pulling you closer.

your fingers tangled in his hair, heart racing as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you to him. time blurred. nothing else mattered except the press of his lips, the heat between you, the rush of water and breath.

you gasped softly when he broke away just enough to kiss down your jawline, trailing hot, lazy kisses over your skin, and back up to capture your mouth again with hungry urgency.

breathless, you pulled back just enough to murmur, “do you.. want to go upstairs, to my room?”

he smirked against your lips, voice low and amused. “feelin’ mighty rebellious this summer, huh?”

you grinned, heart pounding. “we don’t have to. i’m just really enjoying spending time with your old ass”

joel followed you up the stairs. your bedroom door creaked open, and he stepped inside slowly, gaze scanning the space. soft lighting, the faint scent of your perfume, candles everywhere.

you came up behind him, heartbeat in your throat. he just stood there with his wet trunks, like he wasn’t sure what to do. so you reached for him.

he turned just as your hands slid up his chest, and then you kissed him like you’d been thinking about it all damn year.

he made a low sound in his throat, hands coming to your waist as he kissed you back just as fiercely.

between kisses, you whispered, “i haven’t… been with anyone. not in over a year.”

joel pulled back slightly, blinking like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. “a year?”

you nodded, brushing your nose against his. “mm-hmm. so im just feeling a little.. you know”

his voice was low and teasing. “frustrated?” 

you gave a soft laugh and nodded. “my vibrator’s not really cutting it these days.”

joel chuckled. not surprised, just amused. “yeah, i figured you’d have one of those,” he said, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth. “bet it’s pink or somethin’.”

you grinned. “it’s purple, actually.”

he tilted his head, eyes warm. “course it is.”

the humor melted into something softer as he looked at you again, his hand brushing gently against your hip, fingers dipping just under the edge of your bikini bottom.

his voice lowered, rough around the edges. “you want me to take care of you, baby?”

your breath caught in your throat as you nodded slowly. “yeah. i do.”

that was all he needed.

joel’s hands slid to your hips, thumbs catching the edge of your soaked swimsuit. he took his time peeling them down carefully, like he was unwrapping something precious. he pressed a kiss to your jaw first, then the soft spot beneath your ear. when he kissed your neck, it made your knees go weak. then his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, the tops of your breasts, pausing just long enough to look up at you like he was asking permission again.

his hands stroked down your thighs, spreading warmth in their wake. when his thumb grazed over your inner thigh, his eyes flicked up. he was watching you, gauging every reaction, like he wanted to memorize what made you shiver and sigh. “you sure about this?” he asked quietly, voice gruff but gentle. “you just tell me if you want to stop. any second.”

you nodded, heart pounding. “i don’t want to stop.”

joel exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.

“okay,” he said, bringing his mouth to your chest again, kissing softly over the curve of your breast. 

joel gently guided you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed, and he followed, pressing kisses along your stomach as you lay back. his rough palms sliding along your thighs as he spread them, lowering himself between them like it was where he belonged.

“you gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low, husky. 

you nodded breathlessly, heart thudding as his mouth finally met you. he licked slow and deep, savoring every reaction, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you right where he wanted you. your fingers threaded through his hair instinctively, hips lifting slightly off the bed as he sucked your clit just right, then slid two fingers inside you, thick and curling just enough to make your whole body clench.

“that’s it,” he rasped against you, his voice wrecked. “that’s a good girl.”

your moans were helpless. every stroke of his tongue and press of his fingers wound you tighter until your orgasm creeped over you like thunder. you barely had time to catch your breath before joel rose to his knees above you, lips slick and eyes heavy with want.

still dazed, you pushed yourself up to straddle him. you kissed him, deep and messy, tasting yourself on his lips, and rocked your hips against his, making him groan low in his chest.

“you ridin’ me now?” he asked, voice gravelly. “that what you want, baby?”

you nodded, touching your forehead to his. “i wanna feel you.”

joel’s breath hitched as you reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance with trembling fingers. the weight of the moment settled thick in the air, his eyes locked on yours, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp rhythm.

“you sure?” he rasped, his voice rough like gravel, thumb brushing your waist. “don’t wanna rush you—”

but you were already sinking down, slow and aching, until he filled you completely.

“shit,” joel groaned, head falling back for a moment, throat bobbing as he fought for control. “jesus, baby…”

your mouth parted, a soft moan escaping you as you adjusted to the stretch.you held still for a beat, heart hammering, then rocked your hips once, experimentally, drawing a guttural sound from deep in his chest.

“f-feels so good,” you whispered, hands resting on his shoulders for balance. “god, joel…”

he looked up at you like he could barely believe this was real, like you were something out of a dream.

“you’re so tight,” he breathed, gripping your hips. “warm as hell. you takin’ me so well, baby.”

you moaned at the praise, moving a little faster, the rhythm building with every pass of your hips against his.

joel’s hands wandered, one sliding up your back, the other drifting over your breast, thumb brushing your nipple as he watched you ride him like it was the only thing that mattered.

“you look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he moaned. 

you leaned forward, mouth brushing his ear. “been thinking about it. about you. for so long.”

that just about undid him.

his hands clenched at your waist, helping you move, guiding your rhythm as his lips found your neck, your jaw, your shoulder. every kiss was hot and messy. 

“keep goin’, just like that,” he groaned, voice fraying at the edges. “you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy.”

you could feel it coming once again, that tight, overwhelming ache coiling deep in your belly, winding tighter with every slow grind of your hips, every brush of his thumb over your nipple, every soft, filthy word he growled against your skin.

“you close again, baby?” he murmured, voice low and urgent. “feels like you are.”

you nodded, fingers digging into his shoulders. “y-yeah. joel, oh—”

he sat up slightly, mouth capturing yours in a hungry kiss, one hand on your back to keep you close, the other gripping your hip as he thrust up into you. deeper, harder, matching your rhythm with his own.

“let go for me,” he rasped against your lips. “wanna feel you come, sweetheart. come all over me.”

at that, your body went tense and shuddered violently as your second orgasm hit, rushing through you like a wave breaking. you cried out his name, legs trembling, head falling to his shoulder as pleasure tore through you in sharp, hot pulses.

joel groaned deep in his chest, arms locking around you as he held you close,  “good girl… just like that… fuck, you’re perfect.”

you were still catching your breath, face pressed to the curve of his neck, when you felt his hands tighten on your hips.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice rough and cracking at the edges. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn good.”

you shifted slightly, and he swore under his breath, a ragged sound that sent a thrill down your spine.

“don’t move,” he gritted out. “christ, you’re gonna make me-”

you couldn’t help it. you rocked your hips again, slow and deep, and he gasped. his head fell back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight.

“jesus fuck,” he panted, hands now gripping your thighs like he was hanging on for dear life. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby…”

you kissed the side of his neck, whispering, “then come, joel. want to feel you.”

his body snapped beneath you, muscles straining, and with a low, broken moan, your name falling from his lips like a prayer, he came. hard.

the way he pulsed inside you, the warmth spreading between you as he held you down, buried deep, clinging to you like he’d fall apart otherwise. he breathed heavy against your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you, keeping you flush to his chest. one hand drifted up your spine, slow and shaky.

“goddamn,”, he muttered, voice hoarse, lips brushing your skin. you smiled, still catching your breath, heart pounding as you curled into him, both of you quiet now, your skin warm and sticky and flushed, laying on his chest. 

“you’re gonna put me in so much trouble, darlin.”

thankyou for reading ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

taglist: @3raqya @brittmb115 @wanniiieeee @millersdoll

[taintedtort]

Hola!! Lately i kinda stalked read and loved your writings! May I ask "fav position" with haikyuu boys maybe with akaashi, beacuse i'm flipping down for him lol. Ofc if you are too busy no promblem, feel free to decline!

P.s. loved the last post about sweeet or bratty reader!

" TAKE YOUR PICK! "

summary. their fav positions

characters. akaashi, kyotani, kenma, iwaizumi

warnings. NSFW/SMUT!!, post!timeskip, gn!reader

a/n. i’m back!! i took a little break (for no reason dw) but you guys are so sweet in my inbox tysm <33

☆ — AKAASHI

missionary

he lovessss eye contact, you cannot tell me otherwise. he’s really big on reading your expression to understand what you enjoy. like when your mouth drops open and your eyes close, he knows he’s hitting it just right. he knows your body pretty much inside and out, so all you have to do is sit there and take it :)

"is it good? yeah?"

☆ — KYOTANI

doggy (get it? cus he’s maddog)

he doesn’t like whenever you can see his face because he’s embarrassed about the expressions he makes. but how is he supposed to keep it together when you feel so good around him? he makes a stupid focused face whenever he’s about to cum too, and he can’t have you staring at him like that. he also reaches the deepest in that position, and you moan the loudest whenever he pins your hips to the bed and slams into you over and over. it feels good though, so you aren’t complaining!

"fuck— yeah, keep arching just like that."

☆ — KENMA

cowgirl (might be overused, but it’s true)

he adores whenever you climb into his lap whenever he’s at his desk playing whatever new video game he’s testing for work. it usually just starts with you cockwarming him because you get so needy for his attention :(. it’s hard to move at a good rhythm in the chair, so you’re forced to wait until he gets horny enough to move you both to the bed. when he does though, you’re free to bounce and squirm all you want! he'll hold your hips and thighs with a vice grip while his eyes trail all over your body. he just loves to watch you, that’s all. but as soon as you get tired he‘ll flip you over, don’t worry!

"you look so good… keep going."

extra:

i also love the headcannons of kenma losing his cool over a game and bending you over his desk to fuck his frustrations out. bonus points if it was unwarranted and you’re all whiny because you didn’t even do anything, so why is he using you??

☆ — IWAIZUMI

on the wall

he does it just because he can to be honest. he loves showing off his strength to you whenever he can, and he definitely takes the opportunity to do it during sex. it’s also pretty convenient though because he can just pick you up and do it wherever, he doesn’t need to find a comfortable surface for you. he can fuck your brains out in the shower, in the doorway, in the kitchen, really just anywhere. you’ve both defiled every room in your house thanks to him.

"baby, no, you aren’t heavy. tch— just shut up and take it, stop worrying."

hi! thanks for reading :)

rules+masterlist

[faetoday]

Trans Billy Batson who still needs to deal with his period in his champion form.

He assumes the rest of the league knows because it’s not like he hides that he’s trans, it was just never brought up. He figured With enough detectives in their ranks, there was no way at least some of them don’t know,

But in truth, they don’t, the thought never even crossed their minds.

Fast forward to him being on the league a while, and Billy’s period starts. It’s killing him, but the world still needs Marvel, so off he goes.

The rest of the league doesn’t quite understand why every now and again The Captain’s behavior is different. He grits his teeth more, seems to get annoyed easier, gets caught eating a lot more food than usual, and crying at smaller things.

After a while, it becomes a running joke

“The Captain stole my chocolate icecream again, must be that time of the month”

“He’s snippier than usual, might be you-know-what”

And other comments like that. To them, they thinks it’s all in good fun, but it takes a toll on Billy, because his friends are making fun of him for something he can’t really control.

One day, he’s having really bad cramps at the watchtower, and is just sitting gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pain, and someone makes a comment.

He finally has enough and tears prickle his eyes, before he just asks,

“You don’t talk about the women on the league when they are dealing with this, why are you picking on me? I am in pain, is that too hard to understand?”

He gets up to leave, but everyone who had been there now had the realization of what they had been doing, that they had been making fun of their colleague for essentially being born with the wrong parts, during an emotional time for him, and they hadn’t known it.

The jokes stopped after that.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫! — 𝐟𝐭; 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐬

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; your shift at a small 24 hour diner is usually always boring and exhausting. but after an encounter with a not-so-honest guest, things might be different.

𝐜𝐰 ; gn!reader, reader is addressed as “miss waitress” but you can imagine it as anything you want, swearing, use of (y/n)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; yes i will continue the bunny agenda. no i won’t stop.

1 am, an all too familiar time for you.

a small light flickering at the back corner, wiping and rewiping booster seats, and occasionally taking over for overly-tired chefs at times. sometimes, you even catch yourself dozing off in one of the chairs when no customers are around.

your seven hour shift goes from 10 pm to 5 am after all. as a college student, you should probably be enjoying your life more, but you were a broke college student. so for the money, your ungodly late night shift was worth it.

usually, you would serve people just as tired as you are. maybe someone who just got broken up with and just needed some comfort food and free therapy—you usually gave them a free ice cream whenever you saw someone who just got broken up with.

otherwise, you usually just see some people who probably just finished their late night shift stuff as much food into their mouths as possible before going home and crashing on the couch. sometimes, it’s a tourist who had a particularly late arrival time.

today seems to have the last two customers.

a man with much too oversized clothing and a bunny cap sat by a small table by himself, clearing trying to finish his food as quickly as he could, although he was also obviously trying to eat as neatly as possible. well, hopefully he knew that you wouldn’t judge him for eating messily, especially not at 1 in the morning.

meanwhile, you heard the entrance bell ring; looks like there was yet another late night customer. a man with a suitcase and headphones around his neck entered, clearly a foreigner here to visit. he found himself a seat and sat down, looking at the menu on his table.

he scratched his head, narrowed his eyes, and sighed. clearly, he didn’t understand a single thing on the menu. he stood up, approaching the man with the hat, and began to speak in unbelievably broken spanish, but still alright enough to understand. “um, hello, what is it that you are eating?”

you walked over, flattening your shirt and taking a notepad and pen. “hello!” the man with the hat said enthusiastically, though he had a slight edge in his voice. your eyebrows knitted together; you had heard tired voices pretending to be enthusiastic before, but never like this. maybe he was upset about something? or maybe he was just a fake person. “these are ‘sataps.’”

what the fuck was this guy’s problem?

“sa…taps—?”

“no they’re not,” you interrupted, tapping the foreigner on the shoulder with a small smile. “they’re called ‘tapas.’ would you like to order them?” you gave the man with the hat a side eye, him giving you a tight grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. the tourist nodded, going back to his seat.

“thank you.”

you nodded, writing his order onto your keypad and handing it to the chefs. you turned back, walking over to the man in the hat and sitting down in front of him. “the hell was the point in lying to him? he just wanted something to eat.” he shrugged, shoveling another tapa into his mouth.

“it’s funny.” he stated, giving you yet another fake smile. god, was this what gen alphas mean when they say ‘ragebaiting?’ actually, it probably meant words that were meant to get other people mad, but whatever. words, actions, same thing.

“it’s really not. also, your fake ass smile is pissing me the fuck off. i get that you’re trying to look good or whatever, but if you’re tired, you’re tired. i’m not gonna judge you if you frown a lot because you’re tired.” you pointed out. you were so glad that your boss was in the kitchen, otherwise you’d be doomed if they heard you speak like this.

for a moment, you could have sworn that you saw his smile vanish and his irises dull. but in a smile moment, his tight smile wash back. “damn, that’s really rude!” he exclaimed in an almost laughing manner. you blushed—wait, why were you getting embarrassed?

“i’m not wrong though!”

“well, miss waitress, you must be exhausted from your shift as well.” the mystery man declared. you squinted, and for the first time, you really looked at him. his cap had a striped design, and it had a cute bunny with a scar on it. a large cross shaped scar the same shape as the bunny’s ran across his face, and he had light hair and dark eyes.

if you were being completely honest with yourself, this guy was hot. possibly the finest man you’ve ever met or even seen. but you couldn’t let your senses and preferences dull the fact that this guy was an asshole who lied for fun.

“i am. but i’m used to it,” before you could stop yourself, you were venting to a stranger. “i really hate the night shift and i wanna stay in my dorm and just binge shows all night long while eating buldak ramen but i can’t.”

“that’s funny. and sad.”

you glared at him. “and what about you? what’s your miserable life story? you’re eating alone at a small 24 hour diner and talking to the sad and broke college student who works here. you gotta have some sort of sob story.”

“well, my job keeps me busy and is draining. i’m not particularly fond of it either. i’ll keep it at that.” he drawled, though his last two sentences sounded more like pondering and contemplating more than anything.

“damn. you look like you’re the same age as me, and you’re working a 9-5 job already? tragic.”

he ignored your comment. “well, it was nice meeting and talking to you, miss waitress. enjoy the rest of your shift. and,” he stuck out his hand. “i’m bunny iglesias.”

“bunny? that’s unironically your name? that’s depressing. anyways, i’m (y/n) (l/n).” you shook his hand. “i’ll see you around them. or maybe we’ll never see each other again, who knows.”

“so negative.”

he then left, and on his table, you could see that he left a tip. you picked the cash on, observing it, and unsurprisingly, a vein popped out of your temple.

fake money.

the moment you got back to your dorm, you searched his name up, hoping to find any socials. was it perhaps a little bit creepy? yes. but was it also a dick move to get your hopes up and give you fake money as a tip? yes. so you thought that you were pretty justified.

your eyes widened at the search result, your jaw going slack.

bunny iglesias

age 19

191 cm (6’3)

76 kg (168 lbs)

newly crowned a new generation 11 player, he joined the main fc barcha team midway through the season. he has already scored 11 goals, and is known for his jumping ability…show more

and his picture? the exact same person you saw at the diner. hell, after scrolling for a while, you found that he even wore his own merch with the bunny hat. that was honestly hella funny though; a celebrity unironically wearing their own merch without desire for any clout.

you tapped on the link for his instagram, and your phone nearly slipped out of your hand when you saw the caption to his most recent post, only posted a few hours ago, nearly right after he had left the diner.

‘someone just told me that i work a 9-5 job. who’s gonna tell them?’

and the photo was a picture of him photoshopped to sit in an office chair, supposedly working an office job. you almost wanted to laugh if it weren’t for the horror of a celebrity posting about you.

god, how were you going to sleep?

[backinmyphase]

Sukuna was stubborn.

You knew that but you stil thought he would leave the sleeping deprivation matter go. Yeah, maybe you yawned a lot, but was that really so irritating?

He obviously thought so.

Sukuna always looked so frustrated at you. And maybe he had a right to. He caught you a couple of times sleeping in the library. He woke you up after the first time. A scowl was always present when you blinked up at him.

"It's not that bad." you reassured him, hoping he wouldn't dig into the matter. But you knew that wouldn't satisfy him.

And still. He let you sleep after that. The times after that you weren't woken up when you fell asleep in the library. But you always woke up in your chamber.

The maids didn't stop. No, they were having fun with tormenting you now, with stealing your sleep. Sometimes knocking your door down at 2 am and leaving when you woke up. Waking you up with water splashing your face, while cleaning your room without speaking.

You wanted to act, do something. Anything to finally sleep.

You wanted to kill them. But not enough to tell Sukuna.

So things changed.

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

"Don't you have better things to do?" you muttered while picking at your lunch.

And Sukuna that little shit (he was in fact not little) smirked at you while taking a sip of his drink.

"I don't think so."

The King of Curses was unpredictable. You still didn't understand why he let you live, why he laughed at the village that threw you away, why he burned them down. No, you didn't dare try to predict his actions. But still. This was unusual.

The last week he was uncharacteristically nice. Attentive. Present. Almost clingy?

He didn't just dine with you, he ate breakfast and lunch with you too. Sukuna made sure to take at least one stroll with you through his garden. Made sure the food you ate was to your liking.

Made sure you got everything you needed.

You didn't understand. It wasn't like there was something missing. It wasn't like the palace of him wasn't giving you everything.

You just wanted to rest. But even with the king of curses right next to you on your stroll it didn't feel like you could relax. There was still that haunting feeling of being watched, being judged by them.

There were only Sukuna, you and Uraume in the dine room as you ate lunch. And still you felt tense.

"Why did you move me to a different chamber?" you tried to raise your voice but you were so exhausted.

Sukuna gave Uraume a quick glance before he spoke. And that kind of fucked with you. "You still have sleeping problems right? Something with your neck?"

You cleared your throat. "It wouldn't call it a problem." you paused for a second. "And it got better." A lie.

"Well, problem or not, I've decided to gift you a new bed. Something better to rest in." Sukuna's eyes examined your tired posture as he spoke. "And more stable. You never know."

You hated how hot you felt suddenly. How you knew he knew from his smirk.

"But was a new chamber necessary?" your voice was much more thinner than before.

"Might as well. Why, do you not like it?"

"No, I do! I just... Don't see why."

"Then just accept it as a gift."

"You are really generous, my lord. It's not even my birthday."

There was it again. The awkward silence. It had gotten a more rare visitor over the last week, but it still somehow made its way into your interactions. Sukuna wasn't someone you could normally talk to over long time. Who could? He was the king of curses.

"Is that important to you?" his gaze was lowered now, not exactly avoiding you but still not meeting yours.

"What is?" you pushed your empty plate away from you.

"Birthdays."

You blinked at him. "I... Guess."

He seemed a bit tense now. "Why?"

"Well, it's a tradition, a celebration of ones birth. And I like to celebrate my existence, that's why I like to think that day is mine." you let out a small chuckle. "But it's not that important I guess. It's just a day to feel good for me."

He nodded. That tall man with four arms nodded and seemed so human to you in this moment.

"Do you not like birthdays, my lord?"

He glanced at you. "I never celebrated one."

Your eyes widened. "What, why?"

At that he looked up at you with an ironic smile and there was the Sukuna you knew. The one you saw the first time you met. "Do you really think someone celebrated the birth of the king of curses?"

You didn't know what to say. Now you felt a bit stupid to ask such a question. You looked at the man in front of you and asked yourself how his parents had reacted to him. What happened to him?

"Don't pity me, I like being feared." he smirked while saying that.

"Do you know when your birthday is?"

"Pfff- no why would I? I just don't see a reason."

"Well, if you say so. But I think you would like it. I like the feeling of having a day filled with gifts and appreciation. And it doesn't have to be that, just a day in which one treats themselves." you muttered.

Sukuna glanced at Uraume again.

"When is your birthday?"

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

It was in the afternoon when you strolled through the garden with Sukuna. He didn't say a word just slowly walked beside you, keeping you company. That was nice.

The garden was really beautiful, something you didn't expect from the king of curses. That he would have a beautiful and healthy garden seemed almost ironic when you thought about your burned village.

The soft breeze was refreshing and for the first time you were relaxed.

The maids didn't matter right now. Your tired body was just enjoying the gentle sounds of nature and the company of that tall man.

Sukuna watched you while you were looking at his flowers. And honestly you didn't mind. His staring started to flatter you, almost made you feel safe as long he was watching.

But that didn't mean you always liked it.

"Do you like Forget me Nots?" it was the first time you started a conversation on your little trip through the garden.

"Like is a strong word." It really wasn't. But for Sukuna it was. "They are pretty."

He was quiet. Looked down at you sitting before the flowers. He stared into your eyes and then back at the flowers. Then he cleared his throat.

"I guess I like the quietness in them. In flowers in general. And still some of them have thorns or other ways to keep dangers away."

You smiled at them. "And they are pretty?"

"And they are pretty."

You couldn't help but think of what he said when he first saw you. How he had called you a pretty flower. Was it just some dumb saying or was it something-

Crack!

You flinched at the sudden sound and turned around to see where it was coming from. It came from near a tree the ones near the entrance of the palace.

And then a small peeping sound, almost like cries.

You walked near to see a small bird laying on the ground, unable to spread his wings.

"A Shima-enaga." Sukuna spoke from behind you. "Probably broke his wing."

"Poor thing." you mumbled while leaning down.

"Just the circle of nature. Happens all the time." he raised his hand. "I can put it out of his misery if you want?"

"No!" you turned to him a bit fast taking him by surprise. "It can heal, can it not?"

"I guess I could heal it with reversed cursed technique." he raised an eyebrow and almost seemed sad he didn't get to kill it.

You watched the small white fluffy bird. Watched as it peeped at you so helplessly.

"Can I take care of it?" you slowly pushed one finger against it, helping it to stand up.

"If you want to. But I could just heal it."

"I like to have the feeling of deciding over ones life. And it's cute. I would like to keep it."

Sukuna just smirked at that. He knew that feeling all to well. And since he first met you he knew you liked it too.

And who was he to deny you your wishes?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Thank you again for your interest, I am very happy and grateful for all your nice reviews! The taglist is open for the next part if someone is interested!

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[afreakforyautjas]

Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 3

[This is turning into a full story 🥹 all thanks to your likes and support 💚]

Read Part 1 | Part 2 💚

You stood still, knowing it had seen you. There was no point in holding your breath or crouching anymore, it knew you were here. You slowly rose behind the glass chamber, squinting at the alien as it searched the lab for something.

Its dreadlocks shifted with every motion, brushing its shoulders as it rummaged through the lab, grabbing objects and tossing aside what it didn’t need. What was it looking for?

Its dreadlocks shifted with every motion, brushing its shoulders as it rummaged through the lab, grabbing objects and tossing aside what it didn’t need. What was it looking for?

At one point, it walked dangerously close to the chamber. You instinctively held your breath, waiting for the inevitable.

This is it, you thought.

“It’s going to kill me”.

It probably wanted revenge, for all the blood samples you took, for the tests, the poking and prodding. But you never wanted to do any of it. It was just a job. Hell, you were as much a prisoner in this place as it was.

You had signed a contract you hadn’t even read all the way through, too desperate for money to care about the fine print. And now… this.

You slowly raised your hands again, hoping it would recognize the gesture like it did before. You were ready to beg if you had to.

It walked past the chamber, giving the glass a light tap with its fist.

You blinked, confused.

It didn’t stop—just kept searching. But each time it passed by, it knocked lightly against the glass again. Not hard. Not enough to break it.

What… what was that?

Was it playing with its food?

“What are you looking for?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

The Yautja spun around with a growl, mandibles flaring in what looked like distress, not just anger.

You froze. Prey. That’s what you were.

You were looking at a Predator, a creature that killed for sport, not survival. You could be its next trophy.

It stomped toward you and slammed its fist into the glass, this time with more force. Its eyes locked onto yours, those sharp, otherworldly eyes. You’d never seen them open before. Terrifying… yet captivating.

The green blood dripping from its shoulder drew your gaze away for just a second…

and that was enough to anger it again.

It let out a quieter growl this time.

For a fleeting moment… you imagined it was trying to communicate, maybe warn you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, it turned around and resumed its search.

“If I help you find it… will you let me leave?” you said, immediately regretting it.

What the hell were you thinking?

It doesn’t understand you… right?

Maybe if you helped—maybe if you treated the wound—

You tapped on the glass before your brain could catch up to your hands.

The Yautja turned. Its dreadlocks followed the motion, almost graceful in how they moved.

For the first time, it didn’t feel like an alien. It felt… humanoid. Too human actually.

“I can help” you said softly, careful not to sound like a threat.

It stomped toward you again. You raised your hands.

“I know how to treat your wound,” you blurted out, heart pounding in your chest.

It stopped just inches away from the chamber, staring at you—really staring at you—like it was trying to make sense of what you were.

“You recognize my voice,” you said quietly, more a statement than a question. You had a feeling it did. The hesitation earlier, when you came face to face with it before the xenomorph attacked… it hadn’t been random.

A deep, rhythmic purring started in its chest. It didn’t seem to mean harm. It sounded… natural, involuntary.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the same words you always said when it was unconscious and you had to take more samples.

Its mandibles twitched, but no growl came.

The purring got louder. Then came a few soft clicking sounds. It was studying you again—like a hunter sizing up prey, its eyes slowly taking you in.

You held its gaze, despite how terrifying those eyes were. You wanted to show you weren’t afraid.

Big mistake.

It growled sharply, taking your eye contact as a challenge.

You immediately dropped your gaze, chest rising with anxious breaths.

Had you just made it worse?

It moved its hand, clicking its talons against the padlock on the outside of the chamber.

Was it… unlocking it?

Was it setting you free to help it…

or to hunt you?

You didn’t have time to figure it out.

The chamber clicked open, just as a slithering xenomorph launched from the shadows.

You gasped as the Yautja ducked just in time, the xeno crashing into the chamber glass where you had been standing.

How is this thing not dead?!

The door was open now.

But the Yautja didn’t turn to you. It grabbed the xenomorph by the tail and swung it away from the chamber, even as more green blood poured from its arm.

It let out a growl, nothing like the sounds it made toward you. This was primal, furious… deadly.

The xenomorph twisted free, fast and agile. It climbed onto the Yautja’s back, sinking its inner jaw into the side of its neck. Green blood splattered everywhere.

The Yautja fell, chest hitting the floor.

You had to make a choice.

Run for your life or lock yourself in the chamber again, in hopes it withstands another blow.

You chose neither.

[hufflezki]

summary: james is, and will always be, the light of the group. but who's the one to lift him up when it's him feeling down?

-> james potter x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, james is a very appreciative boy, reader is james' comfort person, teeth-rotting-sickenly-sweet couple things, word count: 893

James’ bed is comfy as you lay down and bury yourselves underneath his fluffy blanket. All while you can hear the faint sounds coming from the party downstairs, in the common room. Earlier, this afternoon, James rushed to you with no explanation whatsoever. He just went straight to your arms, after you barely stepped foot in the Grand Hall. And now here you are, massaging his scalp as he lays his head on your chest. You’re almost convinced he’s asleep, if it isn't for him tapping you on the arm when you stop.

Your other friends are downstairs, probably enjoying the party, and James would normally be there as well. But he felt really off today, he said. He woke up early—just like any other day—but had to drag himself out of bed. Which was quite unusual since he had always been a morning person. But then his body just didn't feel right, every muscle just felt heavy. He wasn't in pain, he was just exhausted.

James got through his morning schedule, but that was until lunch came, and he really couldn't deal with it anymore and had to see you immediately.

You could say it's an automatic response between the both of you. That whenever someone feels tired they would always find rest within the other one’s presence. And, currently, James really needs yours.

“I think I’m just overwhelmed..” James mumbles, his face against your collarbone. You can feel his heart beating in sync with yours, and it makes this moment a little more intimate. “Well, you have been juggling your responsibilities.” You say, averting your gaze down at him. Your boyfriend indeed has become busy ever since he became the head boy. And it's impressive how well he’s dealing with so much on his plate, especially when he’s also the captain of the Quidditch team. But you wouldn't discredit him for becoming overwhelmed. At the end of the day, he’s also just human.

“I shouldn't be so down, huh? I mean other people have it bad too.” You let out a hum, moving your hand down on his back, and he melts into your touch. You’ve told him plenty of times before, that just because he was given these responsibilities, doesn't mean that he should prioritize himself last. He’s just as important as keeping the students in line, or winning the Quidditch cup. “James, I don't think that’s how it works. No matter what it is, you shouldn't invalidate yourself. And you’re burnt out, you should allow yourself to rest. Do you understand?” James nods his head, a small smile gracing his features.

“What would make you feel better? Do you want to talk about it some more?” He shakes his head, pressing his palms flat on the mattress beside you, and lifting himself up. You tilt your head to the side, watching him manoeuvre his body, so he’s face to face with you. “I’m already starting to feel better, angel.” You smile, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls you in a kiss. Your whole body flushes, your cheeks warm as you kiss James back. And it's sweet, even passionate, maybe because of how emotional the both of you feel right now.

His other hand travels down from your arm and down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, before he pulls away from the kiss.

“Don't tell Sirius, but I’m sort of glad I ditched the party.”

“James.” You laugh, breathless, and he smiles while admiring you. He thinks you’re the prettiest like this. Still a little flushed from kissing, all soft and endearing, it makes all his bad days more worthwhile. He misses you already, even though you're still here.

“I don't say this a lot, but I’m grateful that you’re always here for me.”

“You do say that a lot, Jamie.”

“Oh, well, then I won't get tired of telling you how grateful I am for always being there for me.” You're by the stairs now, just near the Gryffindor common room, after the both of you got bored and decided to sneak out. You couldn't get far though, initially headed for the kitchen, as Flinch is currently doing his rounds near the area. And you can't really risk detention.

“Alright, lover boy, you can thank me all you want.” You can tell he was slowly coming back to his usual self. The random compliments, getting overly affectionate and emotional—although he’s been unable to keep his hands off of you since earlier—and, of course, being all smiley.

“Thank you, really, I mean it.” He rests his head on your shoulder, as if he couldn't be much closer to you. You don't even have to look to know that he’s currently staring at you with doting eyes. Though, to be fair, you do look at him the same way. “If it wasn't for you, I don't think I'd be able to have time for myself.” And it's the truth. You make his miserable days much better.

“I think that was more of a collaborative work between us.” James watches you place a kiss on his forehead. “But you’re always welcome.”

Moments like this reminds James just how important you are in his life. And if it's his lifelong fulfilment to appreciate you for everything, then consider it will be done.

marauders era masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

[another-random-fanfic-blog]

Fates Entwined Ch. 2

Warnings: 18+ , mentions of sexual assault, abuse

Summary: You rescues 8 hybrids that are about to die.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You blink groggily before fully opening your eyes, turning your head, you see the sleeping panther before you, sound asleep, slightly snoring. Letting out a small yawn, you slowly slip from your bed before heading to the bathroom to shower, loving the feel of hot water wash over you as you avoid thinking of all of the things that you will need to do today. Once you’re cleaned and dressed you take enough clothes out for all the hybrids and place them on your chair, then head downstairs, walking as quietly as possible, making sure you don’t wake any of the hybrids that are sleeping, knowing that they have sensitive hearing. You make yourself breakfast and make sure you have enough food for the hybrids whenever they decide to wake up. Sitting on the couch you go through emails, do some online shopping for hybrid stuff, and then look at hybrid and hybrid friendly stores in the area that have things they may like. You also buy each hybrid collars that look like necklaces, multiple different styles, in eight of every color they have, so that your hybrids have a choice of what they want, knowing there is no way around them having to wear collars. Once you’re done, you find yourself yawning and decide to lay down on the couch for a nap, dozing off immediately.

You don’t know how long you were asleep, but you wake up to the sound of shattering glass and panicked yelling. Opening your eyes, you see a panicked squirrel in front of you, gripping his hair as he keeps yelling over other voices. You sit up quickly and look around, everyone is panicked, and Seonghwa is on his hands and knees picking up pieces of broken glass. Finally waking up enough to understand something is wrong, you let out a loud piercing whistle, silencing everyone and causing them to freeze in their spots.

“Seonghwa, freeze,” you say, causing the bunny to stop what he was doing body going stiff as a board. “I will clean that up, I don’t want you to cut yourself.” You turn to Hongjoong, “What were you yelling about?”

Hongjoong looks at you, blinks a few times, and then yells “Where is San? What did you do with him?”

“He’s sleeping in my room,” you say calmly, understanding their panic now, “He showed up in the middle of the night and asked if he could sleep in there. Why don’t you all go wake him up and I will find something for breakfast.”

All the hybrids rush upstairs, Seonghwa looking slightly conflicted about leaving a mess, but decides to follow, leaving you to hoist yourself off the couch and start cleaning.

Hybrids

They all run upstairs as fast as they can, bursting through Y/N’s bedroom door and finding San sprawled across the bed sound asleep, dead to the world. The hybrids freeze at the sight of their friend, not knowing the panic he caused everyone by disappearing.

“SAN!” Yeosang yells, startling everyone and causing San to shoot up out of the bed, looking around wildly before seeing his friends. He immediately sits back on the bed and rubs the sleep form his eyes.

“Good morning,” San says with a gravelly voice.

“What the hell?” Wooyoung yells as he climbs onto the bed with San. “We woke up and you were gone, do you know how scared we were?”

“What’d you mean?” San asks, still not awake, but watching as all the other hybrids crawl onto your bed.

“We woke up and you were gone,” Yunho says, “We thought something bad happened to you, that you were taken away or something.”

San looks down at his hands blushing and looking guilty about worrying his friends.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I just…I don’t know, Y/n was so nice that I hoped they’d let me cuddle them, so…I asked if I could and they said yes. I just…I want an owner who won’t push me away, try to hurt me, and will cuddle when I want, and I was so excited that I may have found someone.”

Seonghwa quickly covers Hongjoong’s mouth so he can’t say anything to hurt San and begins to speak.

“It’s fine, and I hope that Y/n is like that as well, but we need to find a way to leave a message for the others so we don’t panic next time.” Seonghwa finishes, lowering his hand from Hongjoong and running his fingers through San’s hair.

“Did anything happen while you were in here?” Hongjoong asks, eyes examining San for anything out of place.

“No, Y/n woke up, I startled her, then she moved over and let me climb under the covers, and we went to sleep. Y/n didn’t touch me or anything, though I kind of wished she would have hugged me.” San replies, slightly pouting.

“I’m sure she needs time to get used to us as well,” Jongho mentions while picking at the blanket, blushing when everyone looks at him. “It looked like she lived alone before us, she is probably adjusting the same as we are.”

“I agree with Jongho,” comes a muffled voice, causing everyone to look and see Mingi with his face buried in your pillow, arms wrapped around it.

“Mingi, give me that,” Wooyoung says, tugging at the pillow, trying to remove it from Mingi.

“No, you just want to steal it.”

“Do not, now give it.”

“NO!”

“BOYS!” Seonghwa yells, getting both their attention, “put the pillow down, it isn’t ours, so don’t ruin it.”

Mingi pouts as he puts it down, but quickly lays on it so no one else can take it, causing Wooyoung to pout and then wrap his arms around San.

“You smell like her,” Wooyoung says, burying his face in Sans neck and taking a deep breath, while San just moves his head to the side, letting Wooyoung inhale your mixed scents and then mark San to add his.

“Her scent calms me,” comes the small and tired voice of Yeosang, who is barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the foot of the bed, Yunho reaching down to run his fingers through Yeosang’s hair. “I’m tired again.”

Before anyone else can say anything, you knock on the door, earning multiple ‘come in’ replies. When you enter your room, you see all the hybrids laying on your bed, San half asleep while Wooyoung rubs his face in San’s neck, Mingi and Yeosang looking like they were out, Yunho playing with Yeosang’s hair, Jongho sitting in the middle of the bed, and Seonghwa and Hongjoong sitting on the side closest to you but also near San.

“How are you all doing,” you ask, earning multiple replies of good or tired. “I wanted to know what you wanted to do today. You can relax here, or I can take you out shopping to get you clothes, toys, whatever you want. I’ll take you shopping at some point anyways, but thought you may want your own clothes sooner rather than later. You can talk amongst yourselves, there are clothes for you on the chair here, and I will go down and make breakfast. I have waffles, pancakes, eggs, and bacon, as well as fruits and veggies, oh, and oatmeal…I’ll just make some of everything and you can pick.”

With that, you turn and leave the room, heading down to cook the breakfast, while Seonghwa looks over the clothes you laid out for everyone, letting everyone take what they want.

“Let’s get cleaned up then head down, we should go shopping today,” Seonghwa says, silencing Hongjoong with a look.

He knew Hongjoong and Yunho were a bit standoffish with you, not wanting to trust you just yet, but Yunho hid it better than Joong. The one that surprised him was Jongho. Seonghwa expected Jongho to be distant, but instead, Jongho tried to convince everyone to trust you. It made Seonghwa smile and worry at the same time. He understood that the maknae longed for a family, no matter how hard he tried not to show it, and you saving everyone sparked hope in him that he probably didn’t even know he had. It filled Seonghwa with good feelings, knowing that everyone would experience that, but then anxiety, that another shoe may drop at some point and break the reality they thought they had found. However, for now, Seonghwa chose to trust you and enjoy their time of comfort. As the hybrids left to clean up, San walking considerably better than the night before, Wooyoung immediately walked to join you in the kitchen.

As you mix the batter for the waffles and heat up the iron, you heard quiet footsteps behind you. Turning around, you spot Wooyoung shuffling nervously as he watches you cook.

“Do you know how to cook?” You ask Wooyoung, earning a nod from him. “Do you like to cook?” He nods vigorously at that, while looking at everything you have going on. “Would you like to help?”

“Yes, please,” he says, surging forward washing his hands before jumping in.

“Well, I’m making eggs, pancakes, waffles, and the bacon is already cooking, so grab something you want to do and jump in.”

Wooyoung immediately takes over, pushing you out of the way and cooking up a storm. You sit back and begin cutting fruit, watching him as he jumps from one thing to another like a pro, making you think he’d do great in a restaurant.

“Where did you learn to cook, if you don’t mind me asking?” You question the fox as he mixes the eggs.

“My first home, with San, they got me cooking lessons so they wouldn’t have to cook. I loved it, after everything I had been through, throughout the day, I could escape with my cooking, and the look on their faces when they ate what I made…it made me feel good,” he explains to you, “I was also able to steal food for Sannie to eat, that made me feel good too.”

“Well, you don’t always have to cook if you don’t want to, however, you will have free reign of the kitchen and the food to do with as you want.”

Wooyoung looks back at you with excitement in his eyes at the prospect of being able to do what he wants.

“You really mean that?” He asks.

“Of course, this is your home too now, I want you to be comfortable.”

While waiting for the others, you and Wooyoung continue talking and you learn that he has always wanted to ride a bike, but was never allowed too, and that meant that you had to buy him a bicycle. He likes shoes and is interested in redesigning them, so you plan on giving him a little studio, and he always wanted to dance, falling in love with the movements he’d see on TV when he could catch glimpses of it. Turns out all the hybrids like to dance, which makes you wonder if you can find a dance teacher that will teach hybrids.

By the time Wooyoung finishes cooking, and you plate the food for everyone and set the table, all the other hybrids arrive in the dining room, sitting down when you gesture for them to. They all immediately dig in, some moaning at the taste and you sit with them, taking a little bit of everything for your lunch and loving how it tasted.

“Um,” Seonghwa says, interrupting the quiet while eating, “can…c-can we go shopping today?”

“Sure,” you reply, popping another blueberry in your mouth. “Once you finish eating and Wooyoung has a chance to shower we will head out. We’ll be buying clothes, phones, computers, and things for you all to try for hobbies, so expect to be out for a long time.”

Your hybrids talk excitedly amongst each other while you look through emails in your phone, and write down lists of things they mention that they may want to try. Wooyoung scarfed his food down so fast you thought he’d choke, before running upstairs and taking what you think was the fastest shower ever. While he was upstairs getting ready, you noticed Yeosang messing with his long hair that kept falling into his eyes.

“Yeosang,” you asked, approaching him slowly so you didn’t startle him, “do you want a haircut so your hair isn’t in your eyes?”

“N-no, I-I like my hair long,” he replied slightly stuttering and blushing.

“Would you like me to put it up in a ponytail for you?”

“Y-yes, that’d be nice.”

You have him sit on a chair and dig out a brush and ponytail holder before standing behind him and brushing his hair back, earning a content sigh from the man, before you finish putting his hair up. You’re stunned once you look at his face with his hair pulled back, he’s gorgeous. You thought this when you first looked at him, but you’re really realizing it now, and his birthmark makes him stand out even more.

“All done,” you pat his shoulders and let him stand, he nervously thanks you and goes to join the other hybrids waiting for Wooyoung.

You can hear laughing and excited talking followed by a whiney whimper and pop your head in the living room, hearing the other hybrids teasing Yeosang for how pretty he looks. Before anyone can say anything else, Wooyoung comes bounding down the stairs excitedly ushering everyone to the car.

Once you arrive at the shopping center, you begin walking around the stores, letting your hybrids decide where they want to go first, and Seonghwa immediately ran towards a lego store. Everyone followed him in, but only San seemed mildly interested in only the things Seonghwa was picking out. You let him choose six sets, promising more if he actually enjoyed building them, then paying the store extra to have the sets delivered to your house later that day. The next store was a sporting goods store, Yeosang was drawn to multiple skateboards, and some of the boys looked excitedly at baseball equipment and soccer gear, which you let everyone choose what they want, then had things shipped. Wooyoung immediately went to the bikes, and you asked an associate to help him choose one for a beginner. While Yeosang picked out his skateboard, you purchased mini ramps to set up, fully planning to build a mini skate park in the yard if he enjoyed riding it.

After the sports store, you stopped by the electronics store to grab everyone phones and laptops. You let them choose what they wanted and then when you found out that a few of them were interested in gaming, you bought each a specialty gaming computer and set up, as well as gaming consoles to spoil them, even going so far as to buy them their own monster flat screen tvs for their rooms. Once you finished with the skin care and make up stores, which each hybrid seemed to be especially interested in skin care, you went to lunch, happy to eat after hours of shopping. Each hybrid had gotten a hobby to try and you made the executive decision that after lunch would be shoes and clothes, then you’d go home for the day, absolutely exhausted and ready to hibernate. You learned Hongjoong liked the idea of reforming clothes, so you let him buy some things, Jongho like soccer, pool, and racing games, Yunho liked video games, San like plushies and working out, and Mingi enjoyed pool and video games, so you bought a pool table.

Shopping for clothes with 8 hybrids is an…experience. They all have different tastes and ran off like kids in a candy store, leaving you to chase after them. You wander around the store making sure to see where all the hybrids go. You noticed Seonghwa and Yeosang looking through the women’s section of clothes and slowly meander over to them, freezing and watching carefully as 2 women approach, ready to jump in if needed.

“Men’s clothes are on the other side of the store,” one woman says, trying to sound pleasant, but you can hear the sneering condescension in her voice and it pisses you off.

“These are women’s clothes, they are not meant to be touched by you unless you’re folding them.” The other woman laughs. “Althoug-“

“Is something wrong?” You interrupt, placing yourself between your two hybrids and the women.

“No ma’am, we are just helping these two with where things are in the store. May I help you?” The first woman replies, while the second woman keeps eyeing your two hybrids.

“These are my hybrids.” You say firmly looking directly at the second woman and watching her flinch under your gaze, before looking back to the first. “They already know where things are and are enjoying looking at these clothes. I think they are fine and you can be on your way.”

“Uh-I-But ma’am, these are women’s clothes.”

“Do you two like these clothes?” You ask, turning to look at your hybrids. They glance towards the two women. “Don’t look at them, look at me.” They look back to you. “Do you like these clothes?” They both slowly nod, Yeosang blushing under everyone's gaze as Seonghwa grips his hand. “Then feel free to look at whatever you want and buy what you want. There is no judgement. And if anyone tries to stop you, come get me and I will deal with it, ok?”

Both hybrids nod, a smile breaking out on their face, as the two women shift side to side on their feet. You reach out to the rack next to you and pull out two items, a semi-sheer top that you hold in front of Yeosang and a black top with a corseted waist that you hold in front of Seonghwa.

“I will say, I think you both will look fantastic in these.” Seonghwa takes the top excitedly, holding it in front of the mirror, while Yeosang examines the top you gave him. You turn back to the women, “thank you, but your help is no longer needed. You can go now.” You look back at the your two hybrids who begin shopping once again and ask “If you two are good, I’m going to check on the others, I brought you each a cart to fill up, you can grab another if you need, don’t forget to look at the rest of the store.”

They excitedly nod along with you, not paying attention as they look at clothes, Seonghwa more interested in the women’s clothes than Yeosang, but Yeosang still finding a few items.

Exhausted, you collapse on a bench near the changing rooms, and every few minutes one of your hybrids appears to ask if they can try something on, which you tell them yes and then they come to model clothes, all except Hongjoong who keeps what he picked to himself. After a while San collapses near you, a cart full of clothes as shoes and pure exhaustion written on his face, plus something more. You recognize the same thing in him that you have, his social battery is dead and he wants to go home. Gently, you reach over and pull his head towards you until he rests it on your shoulder, closing his eyes and relaxing. It took two more hours before everyone found clothes they liked. You gather them up and tell them to take their clothes to the register, Yunho grabbing Yeosang’s cart and walking away when you stop him.

“Where is Yeosang?” You ask.

“He said he was going to the bathroom,” Yunho answers, looking at you. You nod and tell him you will go check on him after asking him to have the cashiers begin ringing everything up, then walk away to the bathrooms.

You stop someone who just walked out of the bathroom and ask if anyone was in there and they said no, making you think that you probably missed him and he went to the registers, however, when you got there he still wasn’t in sight. Worriedly you walk to the dressing rooms, a bad feeling sinking in your stomach, and panic setting in as you hear whimpering, knowing exactly who it was coming from.

__________________________________________________

Yeosang

Everyone was done with shopping and Yeosang had to run to the bathroom. Asking Yunho to take his cart, he ran as fast as he could to the bathroom, then finished, and went on his way to meet all of you at the registers, when he saw a shirt that he really liked. He stood there thinking before grabbing it and running to the changing room, hoping you wouldn’t be mad that he was delaying you a few more minutes.

He never thought this quick detour would have caused him to be in this position, but here he is, silently begging for someone to help him as he is pinned, shirtless, to the wall of the dressing room. He thought it may have been one of the others coming to get him and opened the door, only for a man to push his way in, and pin him to the wall, hand over Yeosang’s mouth to keep him quiet.

“I saw you earlier, looking at dresses with your friend,” the man says, head leaning against Yeosang’s, as he runs his hand up Yeosang’s side. “What do you think about stripping down and putting on some sexy lingerie for me? I could make it worth your while.” His hand keeps getting closer to Yeosang’s pelvis, causing Yeosang to let out a scared and panicked whimper.

The man opens his mouth once more to speak but is suddenly tackled into the mirror, releasing Yeosang, who drops to the ground. As soon as Yeosang sees you, he grabs his shirt and the one he liked and crawls behind you, getting dressed and trying to hide. You look at how scared Yeosang is and then look back to the man on the ground, moaning and groaning out obscenities at you, and all you can think of is what could have happened if you were late or ignored your instincts. You help Yeosang up, then turn to the man on the ground and stomp on his crotch as hard as you can, earning a yell before pulling Yeosang out of the store.

Yeosang is quiet as you approach the register, the other hybrids holding all their bags, as the cashier rings up the last item. You take Yeosangs shirt and hand it to her and then pull your card out to pay, while the other hybrids detect something is wrong and pull Yeosang to them, asking what happened and earning a head-shake from him, since he doesn’t want to talk about it. When you get the receipt, you take Yeosangs hand again, inform everyone you are leaving and walking them to the car.

After loading everything up, you turn and pull Yeosang into your arms, apologizing for not being there to protect him. This seemingly breaks him as he grips you tightly and begins to sob and you just hold him, letting him cry out for as long as he needs. It doesn’t take long for the others to make it a group hug, unaware of what happened, but knowing that Yeosang needed comfort. It took a while but after Yeosang stop crying, the group breaks up.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I should have been there to protect you but I wasn’t.”

“No,” Yeosang replies, shaking his head, “You saved me just in time…and got revenge, don’t apologize.” He hugs you again and pulls away and you have everyone load up in the car.

On the way home, Yeosang explains to everyone what happened and you get angry for him all over again. After the mood begins to somber, Yeosang begins joking around trying to get everyone happy again, especially since he is ok. It works to a degree, but you still think it may be wise to get all of them set up with a therapist, knowing they've been through a lot and probably need help with it.

As you pull into your driveway, you see a cop car sitting there and two police officers standing by your door. Internally groaning, you expect them to be here because of the man at the store.

“Nobody worry about this, I will take care of it,” you say, getting out of the car and helping your hybrids unload their things as the two officer’s approach. “What can I do for you, Danny?” You ask the one officer that you used to know form the job.

“You’re not in trouble,” Danny says, then gestures to your house, “But can we talk inside with your hybrids?”

Taglist: @p1ecetinyzen, @spiritedstarlightofdark, @spenceatiny18, @sparda1234, @the-secret-thief, @ateezswonderland, @archaic-achiever, @lveegsoi, @sunnysidesins, @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[4ruits]

𐙚 : dubcon & noncon photo taking.

you hate nerdjo because he walks around so cockily thinking he knows everything. always a willing participant in discussions and always knocking people down a peg when someone makes a mistake during a lecture. he's such a cocky asshole and someone needs to burst his bubble.

you've tried to do it by engaging in in-class debates that the professor would begin. it always brought the two of you toe to toe as the students would watch in amusement to see how this all plays out.

gojo wins. he always wins.

you don't know how to knock him down, and as time progresses, you don't think anyone ever will.

until your professor assigns the two of you to work together on an assignment. two of his smartest students in the class, he wanted the two of you to work together to present something at a seminar for students interested in biochemistry and the advancements made because of technology. however, the professor feared that because of your mutually shared feud between each other, it would alter what could be tremendous results. "just── please, you two... find a way to cordially work together."

the both of you instantaneously agreed because neither of you was going to turn down an opportunity like this. however, the moment the two of you left the room, you were both back to square one.

gojo scoffs. "i understand why he chose me, but you?" he snorts. "you can barely keep up with me in class during discussions. he should've chosen someone else."

"you must've been coddled as a child," you sneer. "it'd explain why you have the attitude of a bitch."

the arguing didn't stop there, becoming your professor's nightmare when the two of you can barely get anything done because gojo's critiques on your work is so harsh and he won't accept anything you've done.

you're about to head to his place the fourth time this week to go over things. hopefully, he won't knitpick everything and finally accept what you've got. when you knock on the door, however, there's no answer. again, you knock, but before you can even try for a third time, you're shifting for the spare key he showed to you and using it to unlock the door.

you don't hear anything when you get inside. "gojo!"

nothing. "gojo!"

you huff in annoyance, knowing that he's here because he texted you half an hour ago to tell you to meet him here. heading into the direction of his room, that's when you start to hear it. the moans and the breathy panting for air.

"shit," you curse under your breath. contemplating on turning around and going home, your body makes the decision for you by heading closer towards the bedroom door instead. cracked open, you can see it── you can see him. your eyes widen.

back against the bed and legs hiked up, gojo's knees nearly hit his chest. he's lying on a towel, and his wet glistening skin indicates a recent shower. in between his legs, he's pumping himself, and from your view, you have the perfect view of his puckered asshole and his pale skin. you'd be lying if you were to tell yourself you're not even slightly aroused.

"fuck," the two of you curse at the same time. you shouldn't be watching this, you know, but you're so entranced, and your body eggs you to open the door wider before you can properly think. in the mere seconds, you conjure up a plan. a perfect plan to do what you've always wanted── to be on top.

he doesn't see you, too focused on himself to take any notice. and you're so gentle despite the venom being spewed across your mind when you approach him. when you're so close, you contemplate chickening out, but your inner voice speaks, don't back out now. take control of the situation.

"so, this is the type of shit you're into?" gojo jumps at the sound of your voice, trying to collect himself from such a vulnerable and albeit pathetic position. but, you grab a hold of his thigh, stopping him. "no, no, i didn't tell you to stop."

gojo's still tense, sapphire eyes throwing daggers at you. if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, but he submits. "you gonna make fun of me?"

"i should," you smile smugly. "you'd like that, huh?"

"fuck you," he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"soon enough," you smile. "but open your mouth first."

eyes widening, he stumbles on his words. "i──" ultimately stumped, his mouth falls open, and that's when you pull out your phone from your back pocket. snapping a photo of him quickly before retracting your hand from a ready to fight gojo, you beam happily. "blackmail!"

"you leak that and i'll sue you," he threatens.

"then, stop being such a jackass," you frown. "having me change and rewrite the paper every second."

"but──"

"what?" you go to cup his balls. "you don't wanna come?──" gojo shudders. "── the professor said we need to work on it together and i'd be damned if you did all the work."

with a pause to contemplate, you take the moment to run your fingers down his shaft. eyes ogling his length, he's so long, you can't help but think. you can feel a slight twitch and you see his adam’s apple bob. "fine. just── fuck ──make me come, so we can finish this assignment."

you smile wickedly before your palm wraps around his length, making him shiver under your touch as glossy pre leaks from his tip. fixing yourself on the bed, you press down on his legs to keep him still as your wrist travels a steady motion. your heart races watching gojo's face twist and contort all because of you. the corners of your lips curve delightfully as you continue to jerk him off.

"you talk such a big game in class," you taunt, "but deep down you're such a pathetic little bitch boy, right, gojo?"

when he doesn't respond, you squeeze around his shaft. "right, gojo?"

"yes," he cries. "fuck! keep going!"

he mores and writhes from the pleasure, his balls tightening up as he feels his orgasm approaching. cock twitching in your hands, yoyr eyes beam in excitement.

"i──"

"come, gojo," you breathe. "drink it all up."

when he comes, he tastes himself on his tongue, splashes of his white seed splashing on his face. his stomach clenches as you keep going, making sure to drain him empty before you finally release his legs and they fall on the bed. he pants, licking at the corner of his mouth when you shift on the bed. pulling off your pants, you rid yourself of your jeans and leave on your underwear.

"what're you doing?"

you hop onto him, and gojo instinctively grips your waist. you grin, "you wanted to fuck me, remember?"

by the time the two of you are done fucking and finally got some actual work done, it's dark out. collecting your stuff, you turn back to gojo. "by the way, i wouldn't have leaked the picture. i took that for personal reasons."

[fallendemon6000]

Episode 3 - Fire That Burns Again

A: "Do you want to come to my place?"

These are the words that come out of Aziraphale shortly after laughing.

He says them without thinking.

All at once.

Crowley hesitates to answer, then mumbles something like a yes.

Exactly 6 minutes later, a family car screeches its tires on the street.

Aziraphale's heart is beating fast.

When he sees him, he smiles softly.

Crowley doesn't smile back, but he doesn't look down.

They remain silent.

Then they sit down.

Facing each other.

No theatrical distance.

Just enough space to be honest.

A(quietly):"I'm glad you came."

C(biting, but the voice is hoarse):"I'm not here to pretend that nothing happened."

A(sincere):"Me neither. I just want to tell you everything. Without defending myself anymore."

Crowley nods.

Then he speaks.

Slowly.

C: "You left me. With the excuse of saving something that didn't want us alive, or together. You made a choice. And I... wasn't included in that choice."

A pause.

Aziraphale looks at him, shaken.

His voice is shaking but clear.

A: "You're right. You're damn right, Crowley. But I swear I thought about you every day. And every day I realized how much pain I caused you. How much I made you suffer, and you didn't deserve it in the slightest. I thought I was protecting you. Instead I only hurt you. And I don't know if I can fix it. But I want to try. Not to go back. But to move forward, if you want me to."

Crowley looks at him.

His eyes are shining. But his voice is firm.

C: "I..."

He stands up and sighs.

He puts his hands on his hips.

He watches the fire crackle in the fireplace.

The fire reflects in his lenses.

C: "I don't know what I want. But I know I don't want to lie anymore. To you. To myself. Because the truth is that I missed you, so much. But it's not enough that I miss you. I want to understand if we can still be... something."

Aziraphale nods.

He takes a mental step toward him, but doesn't touch him.

A: "Then let's start with this. With two truths that meet. And with a cup of tea, maybe."

A hint of a smile forms on Crowley.

Tiny.

Real.

C: "But this time I'll make the infusion. That way you'll stop poisoning yourself with sugar."

They laugh softly.

A little, but they laugh.

And they stay there, sitting.

Not like before.

Not yet.

But maybe, better.

A little later...

Crowley sits with the cup in his hands. Aziraphale pours more tea, slowly, as if he wants to prolong the moment.

C(sniffing the cup): "At least it doesn't smell like sacred vanilla."

A: "A compromise: black tea, honey, and a hint of whiskey. An old recipe of yours, if I recall correctly."

Crowley just smiles.

Silence falls. Only the crackling of the fire can be heard. Aziraphale looks at him. He really looks at him, perhaps for the first time in months.

The tired lines. The hands that no longer shake. The distance that separates them, only a cushion on the sofa.

A(whispering):"You took on so much, and I...I never thanked you."

C(looking at the fire):"You didn't need a thank you. You needed to stay."

Silence.

The fire crackles. A spark dances between them. No one puts it out. Crowley puts down the cup. He looks at him. Aziraphale looks back at him.

A suspended moment. The air is getting warmer. Not for the fireplace. For something else.

Aziraphale tries to make initial contact, reaches out. His fingers brush against Crowley's. Crowley doesn't pull away. They look at each other. The barriers give way.

Just for a moment.

The kiss starts slowly. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lips that search for each other, uncertainly. Then they find each other. And everything becomes more urgent. Time is running out.

The wound burns and desires at the same time. Hands that clasp. Breath that becomes confused.

And then...

Crowley pulls away, slowly but firmly, pushes Aziraphale away, putting his hands on his shoulders.

C: "No. No..."

Crowley shakes his head, his eyes are shining.

C: "Not like this. Not yet."

A(confused, hurt):"Sorry. I thought that..."

Crowley looks at him, but it's not a reproachful look, it's... sweet.

C:"I wanted it too. But we can't jump to a happy ending just because we kissed in front of a romantic fireplace."

Crowley sighs.

C:"I still have a wound here."

Crowley touches his chest with his hand and does the same thing on Aziraphale's chest.

C:"And you too. We're still hurt. Until we fill it ourselves... we risk hurting ourselves again."

Aziraphale lowers his gaze. Then he nods. Silence.

A(weak):"Then we stay here. In front of the fire. And nothing else."

Crowley takes a breath.

Then he nods too.

He sits back down.

He picks up the cup again.

Hands touch again, this time without kisses, just touch.

And the fire continues to burn.

Calm.

Waiting.

Later, the time to go home is imminent. Aziraphale rubs his hands against his trousers and Crowley has his hands in his pockets. He opens the door but before he leaves completely he stops on the steps.

C: "Wait."

It seems like a suspended moment. Crowley bites his lip, as if he's about to say something he can't take back once he's said it. Aziraphale stares at him in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob.

C: "Tomorrow, will you come to dinner at my house? Just us. No angels. No demons. Just... us. No expectations."

Aziraphale looks at him.

He really looks at him.

Then, slowly, he nods.

A: "I'd like to."

C: "Perfect."

Aziraphale watches him walk away, he's not sure but he thinks Crowley is watching him too, for a moment, from behind the dark glasses.

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: you have an awful boss, jack is sick of it.

jack abbot x reader

warnings: swearing, pushing down emotions, bottling things up. toxic bosses.

a/n: this is sooooooo self indulgent (yikes). readers boss is based on my boss and my current working conditions. i hate it there. i just want to do the job as advertised which was: put reports together and file audits with the government. unfortunately there is no jack to take care of me. im gonna spend years in therapy talking about how this guys power trip messed me up.

he’s finally home. the dayshift he swapped with robby so that he could have a proper weekend with you really kicked his ass but none of it matters anymore because he’s home, you’re home and will be awake for once. not that he doesn’t enjoy coming home to you in a peaceful slumber, but this just feels different, he will get to debrief his day with you over dinner and not in a fleeting moment while he’s trying to stay awake and you’re heading out the door for work.

except you are no where to be seen. at least not where he thought he could expect you at this time of the day. not in the living room, the kitchen, or on the back patio taking in the end of the day sunshine. “babe?” he’s calling for you as he walks down the hall to the bedroom.

he opens the door and his heart sinks seeing you still in your grey blouse and black pants curled on the bed. he hears a sniffle and he’s heading over to you as fast as his feet will take him. he takes a seat beside your legs on the bed and reaches out to brush your hair out of your face “what’s wrong?” you sniff again “nothing, just a bad day.” he rubs his hand up and down your arm. “that’s not nothing” you turn so you can look up at him. you’re eyes are red rimmed and filled with the tears you were trying to hold in, the few tears that have fallen have made your lips all puffy. jack isn’t a violent man but he is ready to find who ever made you cry and punch them. “come here” he’s pulling you up by your arms and into his. he knows you hate crying in front of people so he can feel you holding your breath so that you don’t fall apart completely. he feels a few stray tears against his neck that probably fell when you blinked or shut your eyes. he doesn’t say anything just rubs a hand up and down your back while the other holds onto your hip.

you pull your head out of from his neck and look at him. your tears are gone but your eyes still have some greif behind them. “i’m sorry” he can’t help his frown and he cocks his head to the side. “for what?” you look down avoiding his gaze for a second and lick your lips. “i’m sorry that you need to pick up the pieces when i fall apart.” he blinks and lets your words sink in for a second. “this is falling apart? you were probably five minutes out from pushing it all down by yourself.” you let an amused breath out of your nose at that. jack rubs your shoulder. “i don’t want you to push down your bad days, especially not for my sake. it’s not a good thing to do.”

the lump in your throat hardens again bringing tears to your eyes. you let out a squeaky “mhm” not trusting your voice at the moment. he cradles your head and pulls you in again and this time you actually fall apart. you let the sobs rip through your chest and make your whole body shake in his arms. he just pulls you tighter.

your breathing evens out and you pull yourself out from his chest for the second time. you run your fingers over the wet spot on his shirt. “i’m sorry” he grabs your wrist and places a kiss on the palm of your hand. “please stop apologizing because there is nothing to be sorry for.” you nod at him in understanding.

“so how was your day?” you try to change the subject. he shakes his head at you like he’s scolding a toddler. “no. we aren’t skipping past this. what happened today?” you take a long inhale and exhale. “the usual, my boss.” ah yes your boss. the arrogant asshole who thinks the world revolves around him. jack feels himself straighten up at your admission. he really doesn’t like the guy, and after today he might even say he hates the guy. “your boss doesn’t usually make you curl up and cry.” he states.

“yeah i think this was just the tip of the iceberg. he makes sure to let the whole team know if i do something he doesn’t like, in a way that is just so humiliating, he spends all day in meetings and then when it’s time for the meeting i set to go over what i need for him to sign off so i can actually do my real job he cancels. he waited until the last possible minute to send over the reports i needed to edit and print, then tells me he needs 100 copies of the report printed and packaged before he leaves for the day - which you know is always early while i stay late to clean up his mess. oh and i had to go pick up his suits from the tailor and his lunch on my way back in. i didn’t even get a five minute break today, and when i finally go to maybe stand up for myself to my other supervisor they basically brush me off saying there isn’t much the firm can do because his clients bring in the most revenue. oh and he’s letting the articling students treat me the exact same way he does, all the other admins in the office tell me they don’t do anything for anyone other than the partner in their departments. they just do the regular filing and normal office work. they think it’s insane how much i have to do for him, and the managers and now the students. it’s really just all demeaning, i feel like a secretary from the sixties, next thing is he’s going to be slapping my ass or something on the way out of the office. okay, wow sorry enough ranting” yeah jack hates the guy today.

“quit.” he says not even second guessing it. “what? jack i can’t quit. i need the job. i need the money.” you shake your head at him. “do you? i would love it if you let me properly take care of you. i know you like working, but let’s find you a job that doesn’t suck the life out of you, and while we do, it would be my dream come true to finally have you as my kept woman. the money is no issue.” you smile at him. “you are actually something else, you know?” he gives you a little playful wink. “please you would be doing me a favour, because if i ever see him again i might punch him, and if i break my hand it would be really bad for my career.” you think about it for a second. “yeah okay fuck that place. i will put in my two weeks on monday.” he laughs at that. “finally. now get changed i’m taking you out to celebrate”