#....I never know whether to call something 'angst' if there's not... on-screen angsting but the characters are definitely Going Through It

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel Characters:

~First I love you~

Warnings‼️: use of pet names, a dash of angst for Adam and Lucifer (I’m sorry), swearing, GN!Reader, Lucifer doesn’t really say it but it’s still cute I think.

A/N:Okay I’m VERY into fluffy scenarios with these characters rn- MY HEART- thank you guys for all the love towards these and I hope you enjoy! This is sorta rushed because I’m TIRED and working on TOO MANY THINGS.;-;

~not proofread~

Vox:

I’ve mentioned this in previous headcannons with Vox, but dating someone was most definitely not part of his plan.

He views himself as this big bad overlord who would never go soft for anyone.

Dude thinks he’s too good for anybody, even Vel and Val sometimes. He’s very proud of his work and what he does and doesn’t like anyone getting in the way of that.

You’re only a slight exception.

Who he would literally do anything for

He tries to keep your guys’ relationship very much under wraps. He understands how dangerous of a person he is to be around.

Sharing your relationship to the public would basically be an open invitation for anyone who has beef with Vox,

Including a pesky radio demon

To target you.

So while he denies your guys’ relationship to anyone and everyone, it’s understood between the two of you what you guys truly have.

However, Velvette and Val are able to see right through Vox’s bullshit when he starts getting feelings for you. They see how he reacts to your messages, your affections, and your presence.

They know Vox has a soft spot for you, but since they like their heads attached to their bodies, they keep their mouths shut.

As his feelings for you grow, it became more and more obvious to anyone with common sense what was going on.

The man literally relaxes at the mention of you.

Unbeknownst to Vox, literally EVERYONE knows about your guys’ ‘secret’ relationship.

Vox doesn’t realize how easy he is to read. He’s an impulsive liar, and a good one at that, but his actions very much contradict the lies he spits.

He could literally be screaming at one of his employees for who knows what, and if you walk into the room, his eyes soften and his attention is on you.

He’s straightening out his posture, trying to look as if he wasn’t about to murder one of his employees.

(He would deal with them later)

Despite how obvious his and your feelings are towards one another, Vox still doesn’t make anything public, letting fans and overlords alike to speculate.

It was a poorly kept secret but one the two of you mutually agreed to keep.

You are in Hell afterall. Saying you were the TV faced overlords significant other was like sticking a paper on your back that says ‘Kick me’

Vox does his best to balance his life with you and his work life. Work was all he ever knew, so when you entered his afterlife, scheduling became a huge issue.

He would love to spend every moment by your side but he’s work too hard. His empire is too important to him.

So while the two of you didn’t go out too frequently on dates or outings,

(But trust me when you do, it is luxurious. He makes the limited time you spend together worth it.)

Vox was always making a way to communicate with you.

Whether that be via phone call or through text messages, he’s always making sure to make an effort to spend time with you. Even if it was just hearing your voice and seeing your words through a screen.

On your off days, he keeps you on an ongoing call in his TV room at all times. Unless you have something planned of course, then it’s back to the texting.

He would be in and out of his screen room frequently between meetings and whatever other things he had to do. The little lair of his was where he spent a lot of his time catching up on paperwork, checking up on the latest releases, and working through the insane amount of work emails he received.

All while talking to you. Whether it was ranting about his day or yours, or if it was talking about what your guys’ next date would be or even just enjoying each other's silent, distant, company.

That brought you to now; listening to your significant other rant about his overlord associates who had sprung a last minute meeting on him.

You listen to him shuffling around his office, grumbling as he put on his suit jacket.

He rambled on grumpily while you listened with an amused smile. He swore under his breath as he looked at his watch.

"Alright doll, I'll be back in about an hour."

"Boooo."

"I know, but once this bullshit is over, I just have paperwork so I'll be all yours, I’ll talk to you later."

"Alright, see you in a bit, I love you.”

“Mhm, Love you too.”

Vox hurries out of his media room without a second thought, zapping into a nearby security camera and appearing into the meeting room in a bolt of electricity.

He begrudgingly sat in his chair slumping into himself and mentally preparing for the chaos his coworkers were about to create.

As Velvette and Val went at each other throats, his mind drifted to the thought of you.

God, he would give anything to just be next to you instead on enduring this Hell within Hell.

He zoned out, thinking about how you were sitting on call in his office, waiting for his return. You were so loyal to him.

He thought about you, your company and your voice, the way you sounded when you said you loved him.

Realization hits him like a freight train, his screen glitching out a bit and his fans kicking into high gear as he replays the conversation the two of you had before his abrupt departure.

He kind of stays in stunned silence for a moment, in complete utter shock. Was he dreaming?? He said it back so casually! Too casually!

He whips out his phone, shooting you a quick text:

~“You said you loved me??????”

It takes a few seconds for you to respond, but it feels far too long for Vox.

~“Yeah? You said it back”

~“I didn’t realize I did.”

~“Oh. Did you not mean to?”

~“No!”

~“Fuck that came out wrong. Hold on.”

Vox went into panic mode, his screen glitching in and out. Velvette and Valentinos arguing becoming muted background noise.

He tried his best not to blue screen or shut down completely, taking a deep breath to regain composure before he texted you back.

~“I do. I love you too.”

And boy are you glad Vox can’t see your right now because you are sure he would be soaking in your embarrassment with that prideful grin on his face.

You knew you said it first and honestly it felt natural coming out.

But knowing Vox felt the same, hearing him saying it, or well, seeing him say it.

Seeing that he got over his own pride to just say it by himself meant a lot to you.

It made your chest feel warm with joy, your stomach fluttered with imaginary butterflies, and your face burned red from those words that somehow meant more coming from him.

But of course you couldn’t let him know how giddy he truly made you.

Please don’t boost his ego more-

So instead you respond with;

~“That’s pretty corny, flat screen.”

Your reaction to his admission completely catches Vox off guard. He finds himself smirking to himself, somehow feeling better with you not taking him too seriously.

He couldn’t even hear his coworkers screaming at him, wanting his input on the subject they were arguing about.

He just chuckles to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket. Giving fake hums and nods of acknowledgment. Replaying those three little words in his head over and over and over.

Adam:

Holy shit, this man is too up his own ass to realize how bad he’s got it for you.

Don’t get me wrong, the man’s stuck up. He’s selfish. But whatever you ask?

Yeah you’ve got it or it’s at least getting done by the end of the day.

He’s got it bad.

He usually denies your request at first. He’s ’above such things’.

But whatever request it may be, whether it be him stopping to get food or requesting a late night cuddle session. He’s a sucker for you.

And everyone knows it but he will deny it to no end. No way is he soft for you. Nu-uh.

Because of his status and massive ego, it stops him from acting how he wants to around you for a long time.

Like, he’d love to hold your hand, be with you 24/7 in the streets of heaven.

But deep down he’s super self conscious about getting into a relationship. Man lost not one, but TWO wives that’s were MADE for him.

You’re good at getting him to show his true colors though. Straightening him out when he’s pushed too far.

He definitely made a big show about asking you out as well. Mostly to make himself less nervous about doing it.

According to him ‘it’s an honor he’s even asking you’

Which lead to you giving him a death glare and ignoring his ask the rest of the day until he asked you genuinely.

(He then surprised you at the end of the day with chocolates, a romantic dinner, and a huge blanket fort, where you guys cuddled and watched movies until 2 am. Where he asks you again to be his partner properly this time, not letting his ego get the better of him.)

But that aside, you’re one of the few people who can see through Adam’s egotistical exterior.

I hc that he’s a big softie. So oh boy, when you utter these three little words to him, they gain so much more meaning.

I mean we already know the man loves praise. Hearing it from you is a whole different level of euphoria.

It was the morning of an extermination, and while you weren’t meant to know, Adam couldn’t keep anything from you. You ended up finding out about his yearly activities in killing sinners.

The two of you didn’t speak of it often. It’s not like Adam was supposed to speak on the matter anyways.

But when you heard about the exterminations now coming twice a year?

You couldn’t help but feel nervous for your significant other. Sure Adam was strong, but who knew what the hell spawn were capable of?

Adam had finished getting dressed, walking out of his room with his mask in hand.

He seemed like a giddy child, muttering excitedly how he ready he was. It was a way to get the adrenaline flowing and get him hyped for the big day.

Despite how gruesome it was, he did love his job and the praise he received for it.

You’re laying on the couch watching Adam, hearing only your heartbeat in your ears. You watch Adam put on his mask, looking towards you and giving a small wave.

“Alright babe! I’ll see ya later. Hey, you should order from that one kick ass pizza place tonight! Celebration dinner after I wipe out those fuckin’ hellspawn!”

You’re quick to blink out of your panicked daze, swinging your legs over the cushions and nearly tripping over yourself as you go over to him before he can get out the door.

You let out a breath, brushing off nonexistent dust off his pristine war outfit.

“Just.. don’t be stupid. Alright? Don’t go biting off more than you can chew.”

“Uhh. Babe. You do realize who you’re dating right?? I’m fucking Adam! The original-.”

“Original dick, first man, yes yes I know.”

He looked at you through his mask, his grin faltering at the edges when he saw your eyes drowning in worry that you hid behind a nervous smile.

You avoid his gaze, continuing to try and find things in his outfit to straighten out before he can leave.

If you’re lucky, you’ll find something bad enough causing him to have to stay home.

Where it was safe with you.

Adam puts a hand over your own, stopping you from brushing imaginary fuzz off the front of his shirt.

You meet his gaze, and despite his mask being on, you see a genuine soft smile. One of adoration and reassurance.

One that made you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.

You press a quick kiss against his mask where a projection of his lips were.

He always hated when you did that. You depriving him of your real soft lips against his own.

Just ask him to take the mask off, he would do it if it meant he could kiss you.

Before he can complain, you gently squeeze his hand, letting out a whispered voice. Almost sounding too nervous- no, too scared- to speak.

“I love you.. please be careful..”

You go to let go of his hand so he can be on his merry way. But he’s quick to process your words.

He tightens his grip on your hand, pulling you in closer to him. A look of shock is evident on his face.

He squeezes your hand, pulling you against his chest. He moves his face, almost uncomfortably close, with his mask causing forced distance between you.

“Say that again.”

Now you were a little confused.

What did you even say again?

Did Adam suddenly get cold feet with the whole extermination?

He kept your body in a sort of pose that looked like you were going to start dancing.

His one hand in your own, holding tightly while his other arm wrapped around your torso, hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you close.

Your body pressed against his, it seemed he only wanted you closer, keeping a firm arm wrapped around your torso while you waited for you to repeat your words.

You look up at Adam, repeating your own words in your head. The realization of what you said and, what he wanted to hear again from you, made your face flush from light shades of pink to dark hues of red.

Adam has a smug grin on his face, keeping his tight grip on you. Refusing to let you go until you give him what he wants.

You see the look on his face and roll your eyes a bit while smiling. In a sudden rush of confidence, you kiss his mask again, wiping that smug smirk off his face.

“I love you.. be careful.”

You repeat, once again before Adam can complain about your teased kisses.

Part of Adam is glad you can’t see his face, which was burning red from your actions and words. You speaking sweetness enough to make him melt in your arms.

Those three little words that seemed so cliche before you uttered them.

He lets go of your hand so he can lift his mask off over his head. As soon as it’s off, he’s leaning in to kiss you. Just before his lips reach yours, whispering back a small:

“I love you too, babe.”

And just like that, he’s kissing you in the most soft and genuine way Adam can be. How he always was with you.

You didn’t know that would be the first and last time you would get to utter those words to your partner.

You didn’t know Adam wouldn’t be returning back to heaven after his expedition.

You didn’t know you’d only be able to hold his empty halo, whispering the lost words you never got to say to him.

Adam never planned to leave you alone questioning your faith.

You didn’t know, but at least Adam knew you loved him before it was too late.

Lucifer:

Another big sap despite his title.

Of ya know. The devil.

He met you a few months after Lillith left. So you saw him at rock bottom.

You met him at rock bottom. Wallowing in sorrows and self pity, waiting for his wife to return.

You never did pry at the king, one because he was your superior, and two because he was never in the right mind space to listen to you.

You offered an ear when he needed, an occasional shoulder to lean on when Lucifer had downed too many bottles.

You made sure the king stayed fed and physically stable. Forcing him out of bed on bad days.

(Well i wouldn’t say forcing. You’d sit beside him, rubbing his back while he lets gentle tears fall down his face. Whispering reassuring words and asking what he wants to eat so he would get up and get his desired meal you serve)

(It’s more of convincing and encouraging)

Lucifer had spent his eternity with Lillith. Having been with someone so long, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

He was angry. He was grief stricken. He was confused. He was sad.

Her departure tore him and the family they had made apart.

You made him feel normal again. Like he wasn’t a failure of a king, husband, and father. You made him feel okay about himself.

Slowly over the years, Lucifer was recovering. It was painfully slow, but you had patience. These things took time overall.

He would never truly be over his wife’s leaving, not really knowing the reason why she had gone, only blaming himself for it.

A part of his heart was torn out that day, but you worked to fill it with new hope.

Lucifer is completely blind to your doing for awhile. I mean he spent a couple years disassociated from everything.

You provided everything for him and he barely knew anything about you. What was your intent in the first place?

He did ask you this once, why you were helping him. Why you did what you did.

Your reason was simple but struck a chord with Lucifer.

You said he deserved to be loved.

Loved.

He had half the mind to burst out in tears right then and there

After that admission, Lucifer set a goal to become a sort of equal to you. To provide for you as you had for him.

The newfound determination to basically serve you got the king of hell up and moving again.

What the two of you had felt so domestic. Cooking and cleaning together, tending to the garden Lucifer had made with Lillith. He couldn’t bare to step foot in it after she left.

But when he saw you out there in the garden covered in dirt and mud, yanking pesky weeds from the ground.

He couldn’t help but go out there. He didn’t even know you had been tending to it.

Most life had died in the garden with Lucifer’s marriage. Painful and sad

It became a midday chore for you while Lucifer grieved indoors. You caught eye of the gardens beauty one day and thought to spruce it up a bit.

When Lucifer was on his feet again, he joined you in this chore. Trimming away dead branches, pulling weeds, picking fruit that had ripened enough.

While he could just use his angelic power to grow these things, nurturing the plants from the start and watching them thrive and bloom was something he enjoyed ever since creation started.

It was something so special to him. So pure and a reminder of home.

The two of you grew closer with this shared chore, it didn’t quite feel like a chore anymore. As it was something the two of you looked forward to now.

Lucifer could feel himself falling. It was what he was prone to doing. But he couldn’t bring himself to be that vulnerable again.

Everytime he had fallen it left him bruised and lost. And if he lost you, he didn’t know if anyone would come pick him up again.

He could only get so lucky so many times.

He was currently looking at an open space near the center of the extensive garden. Where several paths met up in the middle of the garden. Where large trees formed a sort of dome shape protecting anything beneath them.

Lucifer hummed to himself, sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, spreading the dirt on his fingertips to his face.

He glanced at how much space there was in the center of the garden. He always thought the center was bland. Sure you could lay down and look up towards Hell’s blood skies, but after centuries of seeing nothing but red above him, the sight got boring.

Besides, his creativity was bubbling in him. Begging for something new.

With a point of his finger, golden hues shot out, a large fountain forming in the middle of the gardens. It wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the trees above, but it did challenge them.

The white cement water fountain had edges to sit comfortably, three tiers, with little ducks on the middle layer spitting out water into the pool below.

Gold accents decorated each layer of the fountain. The pool to hold the water having a ruby red color, making the water appear like blood when it sat at the bottom.

Lucifer walked around the fountain, looking over every detail of his work. Making sure it was pristine and perfect.

He enjoyed it for the smallest moment, leaning his hands against the base of the fountain, leaning in to look at his reflection.

He then grew frustrated, not able to enjoy his own creation. It wasn’t good enough, not if it was made from his hands.

He growled, slapping his hand through the water, causing it to splash out. He gripped the edge of the fountain, gritting his teeth.

“Goodness..”

Your voice made him quite frankly jump into the air, falling onto his butt. His head snapped in your directions.

Your eyes were blown wide while you stared at Lucifer’s newest creation. Hands gripping a basket of freshly picked produce from the garden.

The king sits up, stuttering over himself as you move closer to get a better look at the fountain.

“You made this?”

You ask quietly, gently running your fingertips against the designs of the sides of the fountain, feeling the smooth detailing.

“Yeah I know.. it’s uh.. it’s-..”

“It’s beautiful.”

Lucifer visibly tenses at your words, looking up at you with eyes wide in shock.

He was dumbfounded, he looked like a child sitting on the ground just staring at you like this.

You look down at him, seeing his eyes wide and his jaw practically hanging on the floor. You can’t help but chuckle, deciding to take a seat next to him.

You set the basket between the two of you. Picking up a peach from the basket.

“The produce is growing lovely this year.”

You compliment the gardens hard work. Lucifer blinks out of his daydream, looking at the basket between the two of you.

His heart swells with joy. A sense of accomplishment that his creation, something he made, you thought it was beautiful.

His eyes trail to you. The light peering through the branches above you casting perfect rays on your skin.

Your company felt like home. It felt warm and comforting.

And in this light, in the garden, you looked just like…

“I love y-..”

Lucifer starts to speak before his mind can stop him. When you meet his gaze, his voice catches in his throat.

His face flushes golden colors when he caught himself almost daring to say that to you.

He lets out a comedic laugh, awkward and loud.

“..youuurrr COMPANY! Hah! Wow what a nice day! Gee golly, can’t imagine it any other way haha!”

You stare at him for a moment. Of course you were use to Lucifer’s occasional awkwardness behavior, but often times you had to read between the lines to understand what he truly meant/wanted to say.

You kind of got at what he was trying to say, your heart starting to beat fast in your chest at the thought of it.

But it wasn’t the right time. You knew Lucifer wasn’t ready.

You offer her a small smile, handing the fruit to Lucifer. You reach a hand up to wipe the dirt off his chin.

“I love it too. Any day with you.”

Lucifer’s face flushed gold once again, shoulders relaxing. He instinctively leaned into your touch, looking up at the fountain.

Patience. So patient with him.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,��� your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[noemilivv]

Hello! how is it going? I’m so happy to see your requests are back open and that you also write for Helluva Boss now, so I wanted to request something for that! One of my favorite works of yours are the Hazbin Hotel things of reader finding the characters crying and comforting them, so I was thinking I’d love to request the same thing but for Helluva Boss characters. Maybe Blitzø, Stolas, Fizz and Moxxie x gn reader (either platonic or romantic is fine) where reader find them crying and comforts them? ❤️

also sorry if I messed up my english, it’s not my first language :)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: MY FIRST HELLUVA REQUEST LETS GOOO. my first few requests for helluva might be a bit ooc due to the fact that i’m much more of a hazbin girly lol. i literally almost started crying writing blitzø’s part so PLSPLSPLSPLS enjoy that one esp 😋 i think this is one of the longest things i’ve ever wrote tbh LOL but okay enough of my yapping, enjoy

warnings: possible angst(?), platonic!moxxie, profanity, mentions of sex in blitzø and fizzarolli’s part, use of yn in moxxie’s part, ooc writing in all 4 parts😭

proofread: yessir 😎

tags: helluva boss, stolas, fanfic, blitzø, moxxie, fizzarolli, hb, x reader

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø

…always felt so trapped, despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, it was because of his own doing. and deep down, he knew that, whether he said it aloud or not.

he never thought the voices in his head could sound so real, he never thought his closest loved ones could seem so far, he never thought that his spirits could be so low, especially when those around him thought that they were so high.

when his daughter, his precious, his world, slammed her bedroom door in his face before screaming, “i fucking hate you!” against the clash of things being thrown from the other side of the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears.

blitzø didn’t know what in all of hell was up with him today, something mentally, that’s for sure.

he couldn’t help but feel a curl in his stomach watching millie and moxxie be all lovey throughout their shared shift, and not a good kind of ‘curl’, he couldn’t scroll through sinsta for three minutes without seeing a verosika-related post, either by her, or one of her sex deprived fans, and he had just gotten home from a meeting with stolas for their…monthly activities — and he couldn’t help but feeling like a shit boyfriend to the one he loved most, and fuck, even his loonie is mad at him now too??

the imp sluggishly moved across to the other side of his apartment and slumped onto the couch, his face being taken in by the warmth of the rough pillow, with his phone in his hands, he felt it vibrate.

if he got lucky, it might be an apology call from loona, as she was probably already out bitching with her friends at those stupid hound parties, thanks to vortex.

but no, it was a call, from you, normally he loved your late night conversations you both had with one another, but tonight? eh… it really wasn’t the time.

he stared at his screen for a moment, his eyes fixating on your contact info, the name displaying ‘babe’ with a red heart emoji, and the picture was a selfie you guys took together.

in the miniature version of the photo, it showed blitzø in a band t-shirt, sticking his tongue out with a ‘v’ to his lips, as you grinned at the camera, as you cuddled into his horns, it was the morning after your first time together, your bed head looked adorable, it could kill him.

he sighed softly, before pressing the ‘call’ button, putting the phone to his ear. “hey, babe!” you spoke from the other side, your voice slightly muffled from the quality of the mic in your phone.

that alone caused him to start sobbing all over again, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck.’ he thought to himself, but that wasn’t what mattered now. you just sounded so happy, when he felt so shit, that’s one of the many things he loved about you, you were so strong, always saw the light.

“hey hey, shhh, blitzø, what happened??” you cooed through the phone, your heart ached for him, you rolled over onto your side while you laid in bed, curling up to the blankets, as you would to your boyfriend, if he were there with you.

all you got as a response were whimpers from the other line, a few hiccups here and there. “i need words, love.” you said, softly.

blitzø sniffled, “bad day..” his voice cracked as he spoke, although he did so, so softly, well obviously you’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

“wanna talk about it?” you asked, more than hesitant to do so, you knew blitzø was by no means good with his feelings, and you were lucky you got this far with him, considering some failed attempts from the past of you trying to ease him into opening up, but you had to try, it just felt right.

on the other hand, blitzø was just as nervous as you were, if not more, he had been through it all before, and for him, it had never ended pretty, but he loved you more than anything, and he knew he had to do this.

“yeah..”

you listened to every word he said, for hours, 9pm turned to 11pm, 11pm turned to 2am, and 2am turned to kicking down his apartment door at 3:19am to cuddle him to sleep on the couch.

and as tired as she was, as well as annoyed, loona couldn’t stay mad at her father after seeing him snuggled up next to you on the couch asleep.

especially when she snapped a picture and posted it all over sinsta…

guess who’s mad now, bitch?

𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳

…never felt like he had gotten home so exhausted before. he didn’t even have the energy to sling himself across the palace to get to his bed quicker

he wanted to see you, he wanted to be with you, he wanted to be against you and your nice warm body, with your beautiful smile…

after walking up a few flights of stairs, taking an elevator here and there, walking down a hallway that was way too long to be one to begin with, he reached your shared room. he was home.

“hi, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see your partner at last, pausing your show that was displayed on the big screen T.V in your room, hoping out of bed to peck your boyfriend on his cheek. “i missed you!”

he managed a tired smile, “i missed you too, sweetie.” fizz paused for a moment, looking away from your gaze before asking, “can i hug you?”

fizz had a lazy, but goofy grin on his face, extending his arms out to you, doing grabby hands. you give a pouty smile, your partner was so cute you couldn’t deal with it, “of courseee, froggyyy.” you said, babying your tone, pulling him in by the waist.

“you don’t gotta ask, y’know, we’ve been together too long to do that.” you joke with a chuckle, fizz laughs along with you, softer than yours, but still, he sinks into your arms before replying, “mammon’s business, despite its stressors, has taught me the importance of consent, and not just when it comes to sex”

fizz chuckled, his tired but soft tone still remained, as he pulled away from you just slightly to peck your nose, “i’d never wanna hurt you, honey, it’s better to ask, then to be sorry, y’know?”

you blink momentarily, you were not expecting that response out of him, you recover quickly, however, smiling at him, “you are just the sweetest.” you say, pulling him in for another hug, placing a peck to his neck, snuggling your face in it as you do so.

before you can even get another word out, fizz starts crying, attempting to sniffle back the tears.

you pull away instantly, “froggy? are you okay?” scanning him for any signs of harm or discomfort.

your boyfriend nods, makeup dripping down his face, “y-yes…” his lips trembling softly as he spoke. “did something happen at work today?”

fizz shook his head, “not really” he sniffled again, “just missed you.”

“awww fizzie, cmon!” you take his hand, pulling him the bathroom,

“let’s take a nice, warm bath, and then we can do skincare and watch that one show you like, and then we can go to bed, does that sound nice?”

“that sounds really nice… thank you…”

𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞

…was your good friend since your early childhood years, his father had a business connection with your parents, which led to you both being babysat together a lot.

both of you were grown adults now, he was married to your gal-pal from your high school days, and you were engaged to one of the kids from your friend group back when you were in college, well, before dropping out.

other than your separate significant others, you were eachothers ride-or-dies, your for-lifers. you both went to eachother for practically everything.

so when moxxie knocks on your door while your spouse is out with friends, asking for help, you don’t hesitate to let him in.

you sit him down asking him what was the matter, and he gets fidgety immediately, stuttering out an attempted response before the tears start flowing, he starts crying about how he got into an argument with millie, and how scared he was that this might ruin their marriage.

instantly, as it was second nature to you, you scoot closer to him the couch, rubbing his back as he sobbed, still venting to you about the argument and how much he misses millie.

“look, mox, here’s what ya gotta do. just call her, and tell her everything you’ve told me, i’ve known millie since we were just freshies, she’s bound to understand!”

“i guess so.. thanks, yn.”

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

...was distraught, and even that was an understatement. his beloved octavia was lost, in los angeles, in the human realm.

you, stolas, and blitzø searched around what felt like all of fucking earth to find her, while millie and moxxie were off doing eachother who knows what.

stolas sighed, running a hand through his now human hair, his breath beginning to get noticeably more shaky, with blitzø walking ahead of the two of you.

“hey.” you say, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if it’s not though? what she’s not okay? what if she’s in danger? or worse, what if someone took her?” his voice trembled more and more at the thought.

“no.” you start, turning stolas around to face you. “she’ll be okay.” you say, putting a hand onto his chest, “she’s smarter than you may think, she’s seventeen now! she’ll know what to do.”

“but what if something happens? and i’m not there to protect her?” stolas says, his movements going to a halt, blitzø looked at the two of you, before mouthing that he’ll meet up with the both of you later.

before you know it, tears well up in his eyes, without even thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. “i just need to know my girl is okay…”

“she’ll be okay, sweetie.” you say, pecking his cheek, you pull back slightly, lovingly looking into his eyes, “and so will you..”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[iiovserii]

Daddy’s Home — Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again. Even if it meant sharing her with you. (3.1k Words) Based on this prompt

warnings: angst, slight smut, violence (including the disposal of a body), emotional manipulation, toxic relationship

authors note: this was inspired by one of my prompts from around a week ago and i’ve been holding onto this bad boy for about a week considering it’s my first ever fanfic i’ve ever wrote..i just wanted it to be perfect 😭 in my prompt i said something about the reader being sweet but she’s a lot more firey in this because the real miguel was an asshole who was never home..but i hope you all enjoy anyways! i was hoping to create this into series so if you want to be added to the taglist let me know 💖 i’ve also added the translation at the end just because 🤷‍♀️

Link to the Ao3 ver instead!

Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again, even if it meant sharing her with you. You were littered through Gabriella’s file, a pretty hard person to miss considering the fact that you were there for every single moment of her life—the sweet cooing voice in each video of her as a baby, the delicate hands that held the small, chubby fingers as she took her first steps, and the laughter that arose from behind the camera as Gabriella pulled a funny face.

This Gabriella was the perfect fit, however perfect came with a mother that was alive and well. It was a package deal in this universe, a love intertwined with filial devotion that Miguel would just have to deal with.

But he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that was buried deep in his chest, even as he watched a memory of Gabriella’s first goal (a favorite of his), which was originally only celebrated by him, now being replaced by Gabriella shrieking excitedly as she ran up to her mother, throwing her arms around you in triumph.

Moments like these, so special for his little girl, fueled his deep hatred towards you. It was watching these memories where Miguel genuinely wondered if he was even present in this universe. Nevertheless, staring down at his own lifeless body made him realize just how right he was.

What was he doing outside alone, in a dark alleyway on a Friday night anyway? Why wasn’t he home with his daughter, with his wife?

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind as he began disposing of the body—a man too selfish and weak to even protect his precious daughter. In the end, he got what was coming to him, or so he told himself to keep from feeling guilty.

He didn’t care for details, knowing he was here now to pick up the pieces of a broken family and restore it to something he could finally have a second chance with. He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the jingle of a ringtone coming from his new phone. Swiping the phone from his pocket, he didn’t even stop to waver whether or not he should answer as he saw your name flash on the screen, rolling his eyes as he pressed accept. He pulled the device up to his ear, resting it on his shoulder and cheek as he listened to the sound of your voice.

The first thing he noticed was how tired you sounded—were you waiting for him to return home? He could imagine you laid on the sofa, eyes nervously glancing up at the clock at any given moment, a silly housewife awaiting her husband. He almost felt bad for you; it was pathetic that you would really allow yourself and Gabriella to live like that, always waiting.

He ended the call swiftly, making up some stupid excuse about how he caught up with work and would be arriving shortly. Pretty much in character for the man he just suffocated with his own hands, not raising any suspicion for you as he heard the sleepy yawn telling him that you’d be asleep by the time he got back.

However, despite the dark act he had just committed, he was willing to go to great lengths to win Gabriella's heart again. If putting this ring on his finger and pretending that the woman on the other end of the phone was his wife would grant him another chance with her, then so be it.

He wouldn’t mind playing house with you, as long as he was able to hold his daughter in his arms once more.

He felt disgusted even calling you 'wife', but for Gabriella's sake, he knew he needed to play along. It wasn't like it mattered anyway since your daughter worshipped you so much more than him.

He didn’t need you, he knew that.

However the thought of Gabriella’s eyes as they lit up when you walk in the room seemed to tell him otherwise. She needed you.

He hated the way the house was never quiet, there was always something happening.

You were making dinner? There had to be music in the background as you traveled around the kitchen, humming and singing along to whatever tune was playing on the speaker. That soft velvety voice seemed to flow through the house, and it killed him inside that he wanted to hear more of you.

Gabriella was playing outside? Well you were playing outside as well, it wasn’t like you had a choice, having being pulled away from whatever you were doing to entertain the small girl.

You had everything running like clockwork—cooking dinner while managing homework and playing with Gabriella at the same time—all without seemingly breaking any sweat or becoming frustrated.

Miguel couldn't help but admire you for being able to handle everything so seamlessly. But deep down, he still felt resentment towards you for taking over what should have been his role as the sole parent of their child.

He’d notice small things, like the way your hands flew to your face when you were shocked, it was sweet at first, until he realised Gabriella also did the same, she never did that before. He had noticed it one morning when he stood in the doorway of Gabie’s room, not trying to make his presence known as he watched the two of you play, and the scowl on his face didn’t go unnoticed as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, wondering what he looking at so intensely.

It took him the first couple of weeks to get used to your laugh, you were always laughing. It seemed to rub off on Gabriella as well, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her laugh this much, even before.

Miguel tried his best to ignore the feelings that arose in him at the sight of you playing with Gabriella, and sometimes even joined the two of you whilst you played your games. He couldn't help but feel envious of how happy the two of you looked together, reminding him of moments he could have had if only things had gone differently.

Despite these feelings, it wasn't long before Miguel began to see a different side of you. A side that made him realise why Gabriella adored you so much.

One day while cooking dinner, he noticed your eyes lighting up as Gabriella told a story about her day at school. You were so invested in her words that for once he felt like an outsider looking into your world.

He also witnessed moments when Gabriella fell ill and how tirelessly you took care of her; staying up all night by her bedside until she fell asleep or gently rubbing Vicks on her chest when she was coughing painfully.

It was moments like these when Miguel started to question his assumptions about you and wondered whether maybe—just maybe—he'd been too quick to judge.

But as much as Miguel tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had buried something deep inside him. He couldn't let go of the resentment he felt towards you for replacing his role.

He started focusing on every little mistake you made, criticising your cooking and getting angry when things didn't go his way. Every time you laughed or smiled at Gabriella, it sent a pang of jealousy straight through him.

"She's too attached to you," he huffed, standing beside the bathroom counter as you both prepared for bed, "you can't even leave the room, and she's already wondering when you'll be back again."

"Well, maybe if you were around more often, she wouldn't be so reliant on me," you retorted, the soft glow of the bathroom lights casting shadows on your face, your voice laced with frustration.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, reaching for his toothbrush, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, of course, it's all my fault. Because you're just the perfect parent, aren't you? Always there, always available."

"You know what, maybe if you actually made an effort instead of criticizing me all the time, you'd see the bond we have is because I've been there for her when you weren't!" you retorted, your voice rising, the sound echoing against the tiled walls.

His tone grew more defensive. "I never said I was perfect, but at least I'm trying now. You could at least acknowledge that."

A mirthless smile crossed your face as you leaned against the bathroom counter, facing each other in the confined space.

"Acknowledging your half-hearted attempts doesn't erase the damage done, Miguel. It takes more than just physical presence to be a real parent."

The tension hung heavy in the air, the scent of toothpaste mingling with their argument, as the bickering between husband and wife intensified. The wounds of the past were reopened, and neither was willing to back down or see the other's perspective.

As the heated exchange reached its peak, you turned on your heels, ready to storm off, your frustration boiling over. But just as you took a step away, Miguel's hand shot out, firmly gripping your arm. The air tightened between you, the coolness of the bathroom tiles beneath your feet.

The grip on your arm only tightened, his expression a mixture of frustration and a confused longing. "You don't speak to me like that," Miguel growled, his voice firm. "You are my wife, act like it."

“You are my husband, I expect the same from you,” you snapped back, your voice dripping with defiance, refusing to back down as you swatted away his hand. “And—I will speak to you however I want.” The sound of running water from the faucet filled the silence.

A flicker of amusement crossed Miguel's face, his eyes tracing your determined form. He had underestimated your strength, your fiery spirit. Despite the frustration that lingered between them, a newfound admiration stirred within him.

"Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca," he mused, his tone tinged with a mix of fascination and curiosity, the steam from the shower filling the bathroom. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.”

The intensity of the moment had rendered you momentarily speechless, steam rising in the bathroom as the warm air surrounded you both. But you managed to find your voice, albeit in a whisper, the sound barely audible over the running water.

"Now that's not fair," you murmured, the dampness of the bathroom clinging to your skin, your voice filled with a mixture of frustration and longing. "You know I don't understand what you're saying..”

A slow, mischievous smile curled at the corners of Miguel's lips, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as he leaned in closer, the scent of shampoo and desire filling the air. And as your lips lingered so close, the unspoken desires between you both grew stronger.

“Good.”

The man currently asleep beside you, was not, to absolute certainty, your husband.

His features held a resemblance to the man you once knew, but there was a striking difference—an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, he looked at you like he didn’t know you.

His hair fell differently, it looked more clean compared to the tousled mess due to work. You would've sworn he had a small crease in the corner of his eyebrow, but then it disappeared along with the mole on the side of his neck.

He smelled of citrus and leather before, a smell that made you turn when he walked into the room—you knew that smell more than you knew yourself.

Instead now, all you could smell was warm spice and amber. It almost made you smile when you smelt it on him as he walked past you that morning, a couple of weeks ago, until you realised that was the fragrance you got him last Christmas, the fragrance he said he hated and never wore.

The bed, too, felt subtly different beneath your weight, as if it dipped just slightly more than it used to.

It made you feel like your heart was tearing apart. On one hand, he was paying more attention to Gabriella, and she was thriving because of it. He took her to all the soccer practices, played with her and held her so tight that you’d think she’d pop.

You’ve never seen her so happy.

On the other hand, he was hardly in your presence. He hadn’t touched you for weeks, not even a kiss. The most he had done was argue with you, mostly about how close you and Gabriella was.

However, one thing that you couldn’t help but notice was the dark look in his eyes every-time Gabriella’s attention shifted toward you.

He was hardly around before, always at work, the gym or drinking with his co-workers at the bar across from town.

Nowadays it was hard for him to leave you and Gabriella alone.

Not to mention, it was like he grew twice in size. His shoulder looked broader, the veins in his arms popped, more defined. He could basically pick up your seven year old like a feather. Had he been working out more?

You shift on your pillow, eyes glancing down at his heaving chest as he slept. The only time he didn’t look so tense recently was when he was asleep. So peaceful.

You couldn’t help but reach out and dance one of your fingers on the side of his torso, quietly humming some annoying tune that wouldn’t leave your mind that morning.

"What are you doing, Gatita?" he quipped, unable to suppress a soft chuckle that escaped his lips, snapping you out of your thoughts and making you squeak.

As you tried to pull your hand away, Miguel quickly caught it in mid-air, his touch exerting a gentle but firm hold. His finger lightly pressed into your palm, a subtle reminder of his presence and it was almost like he was showing his desire to keep you near.

“What, don't you like touching your husband?" he playfully remarked, mischief dancing in his eyes. His gaze deliberately traveled down your body, as if savoring the sight before him.

Rolling your eyes and pouting, you couldn't resist the urge to make a bratty remark. "Well, it's not exactly enjoyable when the husband is such a pain in the ass." you huffed, your tone laced with a hint of childish defiance.

Feeling his firm hold on your hand, you let out a whine at the tightness. It was as if he was purposely trying to keep you close, unwilling to let you slip away. The intensity of his grip only fueled your frustration.

That’s an air between the two of you. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. The way you desperately try to search in his eyes for something, anything, that would tell you that the man you’re looking at, is, really your husband. The man you’ve spent nearly eight years with.

It’s almost like he’s trying to breathe you in, the way he looks like he’s trying to piece together your features, it makes you wonder if he even knows a thing about you.

The weight of the impending moment made you fidget, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of the bedsheet. You were acutely aware of the lingering tension between you and Miguel, and you attempt to find a way to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

A timid sigh escaped your lips, as a sense of unease settled upon your shoulders. "Gabriella will be waking up soon," you whispered, your voice tinged with a flicker of concern.

A cruel smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned in closer, invading your personal space. "Is my little wife hiding from me?" he sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “You know she’s not getting up for at least another hour.”

Your eyes darted nervously between him and the door, your mind already jumping to potential escape routes. You couldn't help but wonder if he was purposefully trying to push your buttons with his words.

"I just don't want her to-," you began to stutter, but were cut short as Miguel's grip tightened further on your hand. "Don't worry about Gabriella," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. “She’ll be fine.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation; it stirred something within you that you couldn’t quite explain. Within the eight years of your marriage, he had never made the room feel so..heated.

You gasped at the sensation of his lips pressing into your neck, sending shivers down your spine in a wave of desire and guilt. All logic told you that this was wrong, yet there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to give in to the heat that bubbled within.

As Miguel's kisses grew bolder and more insistent against your skin, you couldn't help but writhe beneath him.

His groan reverberated through your body, stirring something deep within as he whispered against your ear "I know I've been a bad husband," punctuating each with another kiss along the length of your jaw.

"Miguel-" Your voice trailed off into a soft whimper as he shifted so that he was hovering over you, one hand moving to fondle at the curve of your hip while the other tangled itself in your hair.

"But I'm here now," he murmured between kisses before ducking back down to press his lips onto yours once again. The taste of him flooded through you even as he reached up under-shirt slowly caressing and teasing you, making sure not too much display signs of pleasure.

As the heat continued to build between you and Miguel, he began to part your legs, eliciting a soft gasp from deep within as his intent became clear. You felt his lips curl into a knowing smile at your reaction as he watched your mean facade fall away.

"Mmm," he hummed in appreciation as his eyes roamed over every inch of exposed skin. "Looks like my little wife isn't all mouth after all." He teasingly remarked before lowering himself once again so that his tongue could trace patterns along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

The sensation left you moaning softly in pleasure at the skilled touch, completely lost in the moment. It wasn't until Miguel's fingers found their way back up to her hips that you realized just how much control he had over this situation.

"You know what?" He said with a smirk pulling back to look at her face before diving down for another heated kiss "I think maybe have to put you in line more often."

You wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

eng translation:

1. “Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca,” — "If I knew you were so annoying, I would have left you a long time ago, doll."

2. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.” — "The things I would do to silence that beautiful mouth of yours."

3. “Gatita” — Kitten

[vampiretendencies]

a visceral feeling, that i can never leave behind

summary; jj crossed his heart, hoped to die that he wouldn’t get in another dust up; now he’s suffering.

authors notes; getting back into the groove of writing full length fics, still doing blurbs. but if you have a request either way, requests are open.

pairing; jj maybank x pogue!fem!reader (reader is almost always a pogue, unless i specify other wise)

warnings; angst to fluff, maybe suggestive if you take it that way

It was unusual to not hear from JJ.

Whether it be sullen facetime calls, hundreds of affectionate text messages, or not being able to pry your hands off of one another in person.

It was just unusual.

Which is why you are silently cursing yourself, sat parked outside the Chateau. The Twinkie was gone, but that in more ways than one didn’t mean JJ wasn’t in his bedroom.

Maybe John B took it out on an errand.

Maybe John B, Pope, and Kie went out on the marsh.

The possibilities were endless— but JJ never was the type to miss out on a Pogue expedition. Nor was he the type to not tell you about it; hell he’d update you if he was doing a task, as simple as smoking a blunt.

Glancing down at the blue and grey text chain, a photo of JJ kissing the bone of your jaw ever so slightly adorned the top, a helpless dimple poking through— but, you couldn’t understand why most of it was blue. Why were they so many texts from only you?

J <3

JB did a lil fire tonight

Got mosquito bites in places I shouldn't have mosquito bites

Need you to help me scratch them :(

I'm being serious

Goodnight baby, wish I was sleeping with you

Those were the last few texts you'd received from JJ, after you'd worked a late shift at the wreck and he'd known you fell asleep. JJ also knew today was your late shift, typically he'd be at the front door of your home; parents ready to boot him out from how much he continuously rambled on about you. You even tried calling Kie, Pope, and John B numerous times with no response.

Yeah, something was definitely fucking wrong.

With a slam of your car door the leaves from the tree above crunch beneath your feet, adjusting your cropped tee so it didn't fall too low. Rays of the sun beaming thoroughly on the skin of your legs and the exposure of your back, making your way towards the screen door of the Chateau. Screen pulled back and worn out, the wood chipped and chewed but this wouldn't be the Chateau if it wasn't. Past the porch you step foot inside, pushing aside beer cans with your shoe clad foot; empty cereal boxes, stale three-day old pizza, open sodas. Anything that you could imagine that was on the hard wood floor, it was.

But what you couldn't find was answers.

"JJ!"

You called, knowing full well there wouldn't be a response as he isn't visibly here. But it's JJ, he could be fucking around.

"Baby!"

You tried the pet name in hopes that it would work, but as you enter his room and see an unmade bed with miscellaneous clothes thrown on it your thoughts grew thin. You huffed limp body falling back onto the solid twin matress.

Instantly flying upward upon hearing familiar voices and footsteps, one familiar voice in particular.

Questions seeming to be answered all at once.

Seeming.

"Did you see that headlock John B had him in?"

"Easy access! Took one hit and I swear I heard his jaw crack!"

It was, in fact JJ.

Doing that thing that he does after the Pogues think they've accomplished something big, yet they always fail to see the bigger picture.

Heat of the moment or adrenaline, you assumed.

"His face was so fucked up!"

"He's had it coming for a long time."

You confirmed it was John B's voice with Kies toward the end. Now the issue was, who the hell did they have to get into a fight with this time?

Though you may not know, you'd make certain to find out.

Creeping around the corner, you make your presence known at the entrance of the living room where they all stood. Appearing as if they's seen a ghost.

Not only did they not have the decency to include you or fill you in, but JJ's fist is coated in blood. Disheveled and mulled, like they'd been ran over by the same bus various times. Kie's curls fanned outwardly, John B with a busted lip, Pope with a black eye, and JJ with a welp against his cheek bone; a gushing cut seeping through.

Your voice grows horse, mouth running dry; fathomed by your supposed friends in front of you.

What were you? A sick joke?

"Look ... we can explain, JJ told us not to tell you and we-"

Kie offered, guilt eating away at her portraying a bad habit.

"Just don't."

"Shouldn't someone like ... be mediator this time, she might actually kill him."

Pope chimes in and it makes your stomach churn because he was partially true.

You brush past them, aiming for your car and of course JJ's steps behind you. Echoing your every move, fingertips knotting around your wrist in an effort for you to turn around and face him. Unexpectedly, your back met with the warm glass window of your car. His fists at the hood, arms hovering near the sides of your head. Tresses combed backward from his digits, out of fear that this situation right here would happen.

There were certain confrontations JJ appreciated and certain one's he didn't.

He had no problem with pummeling someone unrecognizable for the sake of his friends, which spells out the entirety of this.

The confrontations he hated though was this one, the one where he can't even look you in the eye. He invariably lost his tongue in a fight with you, his past making him think that every fight could result in you abandoning him and never coming back. For the long run.

"You should go get that looked at," you spat, biting back so harshly. Peering at a slash that would take weeks to scab over.

"Just stay okay? This doesn't have to be a fight."

His speech is low and he's looking everywhere but at you until you shoved him- hands connecting with his chest in an effort to get his attention and for him to stop caging you in.

Exasperated that he couldn't just tell you, that he couldn't just talk to you about it.

Animosity that he would dare get his precious face damaged in such as way.

Irate and bitter that his somehow get himself in this overwhelming imperilment.

A menace before you.

"It does JJ! We're lying to each other now? This is what we do?!"

It was a show, a show that people would stream on television for their on laughter and enjoyment.

But this was the sheerness of a susceptible couple, glass nearly empty.

Time bellowing out.

"I had to baby!"

Not to be dramatic but JJ's heart had been stitched together once, when you entered his life.

And that's why he tried his utmost to prevent any interference in this relationship.

Because now he swears, he can physically feel a stitch rip open with every remark you make.

"We tell each other everything JJ!"

"And I didn't tell you 'cause, I knew this is how you'd react!"

He stands still with a clenched jaw; tight enough for teeth to grind, hand gesturing at your current 'pissed off' stance—notrils flaring and mouth agape.

And he thinks this actual smoke fuming out of your ears.

Silence fell over the two of you, stood so desperately apart in the misty front yard of the Chateau.

"It was Rafe," He rasped through monotone. "We had to take this round while we could-"

"So fucking stupid, you know he's coming back for ya'll!" You still speak sharply, infuriated past envy. "M'the one treated like shit, just for you to get one up on Rafe Cameron ... of all people JJ!"

"I know, baby! I know-"

He reached for your arms, in ordinace to hold them close, but he failed whilst you inched to the car door.

What's upsetting is, after the fight and pirior to it- JJ craved to breathe in your oxygen and get lost inside your lungs.

"I dont care if it's a decision I won't like, it's still something I deserve to know," and now your voice is just growing weary. "You do such dumb shit and m'expected not to say anything."

All JJ could do was ache.

Ache with regret.

And ache with longing at the feeling of you not wanting to be near him.

He hadn't even gotten a kiss today, for Christ's sake.

"You said you wanted all of me JJ, I gave you that. Why aren't you doing the same..."

Your figure folds, stepping low into the car, JJ running forward bloody fist pounding on the glass window. Praying to God, that you'd give in just this once and hear him out.

"I am! I fuck up one time and you're there to make sure I don't hear the end of it!'

He's finding his voice, a minute two late as his takes note of gear switching and the vehicle moving backward to leave.

"Get out! Don't go ... please don't baby!"

“Baby!”

He trails behind the moving car, as if running would make a difference.

But you wouldn't be there this time.

The last altercation he got into, you were on the other end to clean his bruises and linger kisses onto his cuts; yet, there was also an agreeance that he wouldn't be caught up in another scrutinizing fight.

You validated yourself in thinking you had the right to your reaction.

And JJ validated himself in thinking he was right in not telling you, your words engraving in his brain like clockwork; agatizing that he saw reason.

Nearly a chore for him to listen— heardheaded beyond belief.

Ravaging in the come down.

Always finding the beat, now they can't find the rush.

All filaments of emotion turned to dust.

“You can stop shitting your pants now, she’s already seen us.”

John B’s banter is not one that makes JJ’s tongue stop clicking, nor does it make his leg stop bouncing up and down out of horrid anxiousness.

He’s forced John b to take him to your home, only to be dismissed in your family saying you weren’t around.

You were, you just couldn’t stand to see JJ.

Fed up with his antics and his constant need to put himself in a position of hazardous instability.

Allowing him to resort to plan ‘work invasion’— the one place he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Despite how he typically acts, JJ has precise memory when it comes to you. He still has the little crumpled piece of paper you gave him in first grade— folded neatly inside his wallet, being besotted with you for that long.

‘I like your hiar — signed Y/N’

He picked fun at the way you spelled hair, though he took pride in his hair since then. And no matter how much he misplaced things, he endlessly found his was back to that note.

Resembling you, evermore.

With that being said, remembering your work schedule was something of ease to him.

You did glance at them stepping foot into the eating establishment, sat at a table on the far side— also know as your serving section.

Ultimately, you didn’t want to argue any longer with JJ; you didn’t want to argue to begin with. You bargained with him to learn— to learn that he can’t always have his way.

Especially when he’s teasing you so, showing up during your shift, and wearing that stupid fucking navy blue button up shirt besides the fact that it was, unbuttoned. Chest on display, muscular and built.

You felt the dagger of his eyes on your back whilst you served the table that was ahead of them, still feet away. Unable to concentrate on the order, eaves dropping on their conversation.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

“Sorry … sorry what was that?”

Your saccharine voice apologizing to the woman and her small child, JJ chews the inside of his mouth. He despised going longer than a millisecond without hearing that sweet, sweet sound, laced with the inticement of veneration.

Accidentally fumbling the pen and note pad in your hand, rubbing your sweating palms onto your greasy black half-apron.

“Just two milkshakes.”

The woman was quick to repeat, voice more stern at you for not getting it right the first time.

But JJ was going to win you over, wether that be clogging every toilet in the stalls to announce to everyone that there was a plumping problem— isolating only you and him.

Though, he had something else in mind. Maybe not we’ll thought out to most, but it was the quickest and most efficient way he new of to win you back over on his side.

You slide your feet against the tiled floor, anticipating serving the group of Pogues. Instead you plaster on as fake as smile, and interrupt their witty banter by clearing your throat.

“What can I get ya’ll today? Our special today is a main dish of lying with backstabbing on the side.”

You were being bitter and you knew it, purposefully standing on the side of the table that JJ wasn’t on. But still the dining chair screeched on the floor, in an effort to move closer.

“Look we actually love you a lot more than JJ, if we’re being honest,” Pope conquered, and Kie and John B shook their heads in eagerness, willing to mask the tension in the air. “He convinced us to leave you out of it and we didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t have to justify anything JJ did Pope, he chose to break our promise and that’s on him.”

You sneered, eyes rolling harshly at the blonde that’s twirling his thumbs— peering up at you with a deathly smirk on his features.

“That was a one time thing, Rafe deserved it baby, you know he did.”

“Baby, you know he did.”

John B mocked JJ, warning a kick from JJ’s combat boot beneath the table with a scoff.

“Did you guys hear something … like this irritating buzzing sound of some bastard talking?”

That earned a hissing sound from John B, the actual remnants of what JJ felt from that comment.

“Are y’all ordering or what? I have other tables to serve.”

You conquer, JJ’s at the edge of seat, tapping his foot. His sense being filled with that of burgers, shrimp and grits, anything he could utter but he didn’t have an appetite.

No, not when the only thing he had a hankering for was currently in front of him.

Back straightened and stood tall, typically a stance he’d drool over but he can’t get past the weeping sensation— dire need to never be at odds.

To simply just be.

For you to be his, and him be yours.

All over again.

“I was hoping you were on the menu.”

Courage emphasizing his words, eyeing you up and down— nearly eyefucking. Seeing now as his opportunity to go in for the kill.

“Okay, you know what-“

You’re spinning on your heels, in a notion to walk away— refusing service.

Until.

“JJ! Get down, my parents are never gonna’ let us back in here!”

But, he didn’t give a fuck.

A sickly pit in your stomach causes you to turn around, to be met with a JJ stood bright eyed— a disfigured expression and sunken shoulders hanging low.

Standing atop the table, head closer to the ceiling than it ever was before. Loud and proud, whilst his hands clapped, cupping together for a infamous effect.

Your face burns with prim red scrutiny, horror covering your face— just powerful moments ago.

Insides scrambling to nothing, a stupid toothy grin plastered across his features.

Wreckless, per usual, consequences of no variation to him.

He’s irrevocably standing on top of a restaurant table with only lovingly sullen eyes.

“This woman right here,” He gestures his arms toward you, all bodies turning toward you— wanting to cower in shame but oddly enough you were enticed and lead by infatuation.

Pope and John B, just let JJ do his thing— either way he was going to do what he pleased.

Crowds of familiar faces, family, a friends— some with mouths wide open in awe, some making snarky remarks, and some wishing like hell that it was them.

“She’s gonna’ have my babies,” He started a small chuckle escaping his lungs. Announcing to the entirety of the restaurant, giving them entertainment; despite the promise he broke to not get himself hurt again.

This though. This was promising, and convincing and everything in between.

Salvaged with being allergic to the waiting.

Waiting for you to come around.

You’re in the room, you earn his gaze.

You open your mouth, he’s hypnotized.

Starstruck.

“And m’gonna have those lips on mine for however long she lets me … forever I hope.”

He beamed, Kie’s father’s disgruntled face entering the room, waving at JJ to get down.

A sinister grin still on his features.

“And ya’ll will pass by us in disgust, that you can’t be us. That you can’t have our love.”

You’d hoped someone was behind you because you were about to collapse.

“This enough of an apology for you, pretty girl?”

He echoes, bits of his accent flowing through the sentence.

You managed to fight the smile on your features.

Let’s just say JJ proclaiming his love infront of nearly thirty people didn’t come close to his usual public displays of affection.

���Get your ass down!” Kie’s father, Mike, stammered, and JJ willingly jumped down from the table, being that he wasn’t finished.

And he knows by the smile lines next to your mouth— that this argument is officially past tense.

And he knows that tonight he’s going to relish in all the delicacies that you have to offer him.

“I mean it was alright,” you joke, picking fun to pass your inkling of embarrassment.

Knowing that it topped any apology you’ve received.

JJ glides over to you, hands wholeheartedly cupping your face, thumbs nestling you chin. Like the two of you were on a stage and this was a live performance.

You hold his heart in your hands internally, JJ is merely thankful to be alive during this lifetime with you.

Appreciating your existence and the relationship the two of you founded, together.

He places a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips, pecking them repeatedly. Delving them together, molding with perfection and engulfing yours with his.

Exhilarated to have the opportunity to graze mouths with yours.

“Don’t ever make me chase you again.”

But, he knows he’d do it all over.

Standing hand in hand, with lovelorn souls.

Knowing that he’d redo it without hesitation.

[flowerandblood]

The Sin & The Penance

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he could not sleep – he wriggled in bed, checking from time to time whether she had perhaps called him back or written anything. Although he had tried to reach her at least ten times she did not answer and he was afraid to write her a message.

What if she went to the police with this?

Maybe that's what he deserved, he thought after a while with regret, staring blankly at the bright screen of his phone, wondering if he should try again despite the late hour.

As much as he tried to find some logical justification for what he had done, he couldn't explain what had really driven him.

Admittedly, at first he was guided only by anger and spite, but then these emotions disappeared, replaced by a hot, dark desire that filled his loins, completely overshadowing his cool judgement.

Something about her brightness, her lightness, her joy, made him long to lean over her like the dark sky, like night over the stars, and cover her with his blackness, his emptiness, consuming and devouring her.

He had never experienced such a disturbing and overpowering sensation before and was horrified that he was prone to such thoughts and such actions.

He had completely lost his mind because of her.

She had asked him to let her go, so why didn't he do so?

Alys had always been eager for his aggressive, violent games, he knew that, and he felt no remorse about what he was doing to her or where, but this little girl was terrified, trembling all over with fear, and yet all he could think about was how desperately he needed to feel her.

Perhaps subconsciously her cheerfulness, her attitude attracted him.

Maybe after years of sadness and mourning he wanted to feel at last something more than grief.

He covered his eyes with his hand, sighing heavily at that thought, feeling a squeeze in his throat and heart.

He only fell into a restless sleep in the morning with his phone lying next to his face, and was awakened two hours later by his alarm clock anyway, which he switched off with displeasure, tired, sad and embarrassed by what he had done.

He couldn't look Daeron in the face as they ate breakfast together. His little brother looked up at him from over his bowl of his favourite cereal with milk – he knew he was about to start asking questions about her.

"When will Esmeralda come here to sew our costumes?" He asked finally, stirring the milk with his spoon, looking at the chocolate balls that floated on its surface.

He pressed his lips together, not knowing how to explain to him how much he had fucked up.

What he had done to her.

"I don't know if she'll even show up here again." He replied truthfully, Daeron gave him a quick, horrified look.

"She promised me. She promised me we'd sew them together and go to the ball." He muttered, his eyes filling with tears again.

He decided he wouldn't be so cruel as to let him believe it was her fault, though part of his mind opted for that.

"I know, but I hurt her and I'm afraid she won't forgive me." He said lowly, swallowing hard, fiddling with his coffee cup, not daring to look at him, his heart pounding like mad.

"What do you mean? Did you hit her?" He asked in disbelief, and he clenched his eyes, realising that in his childish mind the greatest harm a man could do to a woman was that he could slap her.

He was silent for a while, not sure how or if I should explain it to him, whether it would be too much.

"In a way. And I did something else, much worse. Against her pleas. I could go to jail for that." He muttered, covering his face with his hand, feeling that even though he hadn't eaten anything he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why did you do that? She's so kind. What did she do to you? Did you get angry with her because of me?" He mumbled through his tears. He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought that, like any child, he was trying to justify the adult in his head, deciding that after all he was smarter and more experienced than him, so his behaviour must have been because he, his little brother, had done something wrong.

"No. No, it didn't and doesn't have anything to do with you. This is our adult business, but she has the right to be very angry with me and not speak to me. However, I'm completely sure she doesn't blame you." He replied quickly, biting his lower lip.

It wasn't until he spoke it aloud that it occurred to him how pathetic, inappropriate and cruel what he had done was, how afraid she must have been of him.

Was she telling herself she liked it so she could somehow survive it? She decided to go along with it so she wouldn't suffer?

"Do you think I can call her?" He asked in a quivering voice, and he looked at him with his heart pounding fast, recognising in the back of his mind that it was an excellent thought, that she might want to at least talk to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll give you her number, but call her from your phone. She's not answering from me."

He stared feeling the cold sweat on his back at his brother's reflection in the mirror driving towards the centre, seeing as he pressed the numbers written on the piece of paper on the keypad of his phone and lifted it to his ear – he heard the quiet beep of a call waiting.

He shuddered as someone answered, trying to focus on the road, complete panic in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello? Hi, it's Daeron. Can you talk? No, he can't hear what you're saying, we're just driving to the centre." He muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a constriction in his chest from which he found it hard to breathe, trying to erase from his mind the image of him slamming into her again and again with the brutal, sharp thrusts of his hips.

"He told me that he had done you wrong and that he had hurt you very badly. I'm very sorry he did that. I just wanted to ask when we're going to sew our costumes." He mumbled out quickly. He felt his eyebrows arch in shame and covered his mouth with his free hand, resting his elbow against his car door, looking ahead in disbelief.

How could he do this to her?

For a moment Daeron listened to what she was saying on the phone with concentration and he was dying inside, afraid that she would explain to him with details of what he had done to her. After a moment he nodded as if he understood what she meant, he saw his face lighten a little.

"Okay. Okay, I'll ask my brother if he agrees to it. Bye bye." He said softly and hung up, sighing heavily.

"And?" He asked looking at him in the mirror, stopping in the car park, feeling like he was about to go crazy. His brother looked down at his fingers.

"Esmeralda said that after your argument she can no longer come to our house, but that I can come to her at the University. She said that the building is modern and wheelchair accessible, there are special toilets, lifts and everything needed. We could do my homework in her room in the dormitory and then walk around the campus, sewing and painting." He said uncertainly, glancing at him pleadingly. He swallowed loudly, feeling disappointed and at the same time understanding of her decision and grunted softly, turning off the engine.

"Would you like that?" He asked him calmly, and his brother nodded quickly.

"Then so be it."

Despite his requests, Daeron refused to tell him which of the boys had called him Quasimodo.

He said that it didn't matter now.

He thought with regret that his younger brother had more maturity and calmness in himself than he did.

Sitting at work he was all nerves, he had not received any notification that anyone had filed a police report on him, so for some reason, perhaps out of fear, she had not done so.

He felt both relieved and ashamed at the same time, unable to look at himself, thinking that he was not only disgusting on the outside but also on the inside.

When Alys suggested that they go to the toilet for a while he simply agreed, feeling that he needed to lash out, to expel the grief, shame and desperation that seemed to fill his whole body.

He turned her body violently with her back to him, thinking with fatigue that he didn't want to look at her face. As he unzipped his trousers he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him, on her panties lowered halfway down her thighs, her entrance sticky with arousal. He closed his eyes and grasped his cock firmly in his hand, giving it a few aggressive, hard strokes.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her sweet moans, about how wonderful she smelled, about how tight she was, about her body convulsing in his embrace.

He got instantly hard, wasted no time and surprised his lover, who moaned with delight at feeling how direct and exceptionally violent he was this day, his thrusts full of desperation and aggression, his groans low and throaty.

Something was wrong – her insides were different, her buttocks were different, her scent was different, too intense, her moans too deep, too sensual, not as innocent and surprised as hers.

He pressed his lips together feeling he couldn't focus or get as much pleasure out of it as he would have liked.

"− shut the fuck up −" He growled speeding up but it was to no avail – when he opened his eyes he saw a completely different woman in front of him. He slowed down, swallowing loudly, feeling that nothing would come of it.

"− fucking bastard − ah, don't stop − what happened? − did I do something wrong? −" She asked as he slid out of her and fastened his zipper in a quick motion, furious, disappointed, humiliated, distraught that he wanted her, this little girl, her moans, her scent, her touch, her gaze, her tight, weeping cunt, being able to spend whole nights with his face sunk between her thighs, begging her forgiveness, muttering between the flicks of his tongue that he would make it all up to her.

"− no − I'm sorry, it's my fault −" He said lowly, not wanting to lash out at her. She grunted quietly, surprised, putting her lacy underwear and trousers back on over her hips, fastening them with a quick, nimble movement.

"− you seem stressed − something wrong? − do you want to talk? −" She asked softly, and he felt a kind of gratitude that she hadn't laughed at him or judged him, that she had acted as if nothing had happened.

He decided, however, that he didn't want to share his thoughts with her.

"− no − forgive me − have a nice day −" He said calmly, opening the cubicle door and left the restroom, moving down the corridor in front of him, clenching his eyelids, brushing his short, slicked-back hair with a quick movement.

What had happened between them, what he had done to her had left a mark on more than just her.

He felt as if he had woken up from a lethargy after five years, everything around him was sharper and brighter, painfully clear.

The next morning, according to the arrangements made between her and Daeron, he was to turn up in the car park outside the University from where she was to pick up his brother.

He dreaded this meeting, dreaded what he would see in her face, disgust, regret and bitterness, all the way to the place he felt like stopping and throwing up.

He felt a shudder and a loud pounding of his heart when they arrived at the agreed spot and he noticed her, standing between the cars dressed in a fitted strapless dress with daisies on it, her beautiful hair the scent of which he could still smell in his nostrils loose, trainers on her feet.

He stopped, swallowing hard, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out, glancing at her – she stood at a safe distance from them and looked away, playing with the fingers of her hands, thoughtful and sad.

What he saw hurt him even more than if she had been staring at him with hatred.

He walked around the car and took out Daeron's wheelchair to which he helped him move from the back seat – his little brother beamed at the sight of her and began to move the wheels himself heading towards her. He saw with regret that she smiled warmly when she saw him, genuine joy on her face.

"Hi. High five!" She said to him cockily and their hands hit each other in the air, even though he was standing a few steps away she didn't give him a single glance.

"So, shall we go?" She asked encouragingly, and Daeron nodded.

He wanted to ask if she was sure he would be safe here, if she would remember to take him to lunch, if she would watch out for him, but he didn't dare, shame took his speech away.

He decided it would be better if he kept quiet and led them away with his gaze, then got into his car and drove to work.

He spent all day thinking about her, sitting over the case files recalling again and again her appearance, her pleasant figure, her warm face that beamed all over at the sight of his younger brother.

Why did she have to be like this?

Why did she have to be what he craved, the personification of his deepest, darkest needs, a ripe peach that someone had placed in front of him on a platter while he was starving?

When he arrived after work to pick up Daeron they both stood in the distance, said their goodbyes, and she turned away without even bestowing a single glance on him. He got out of the car, intent on helping his brother into the back seat.

"And how was it?" He asked lowly, feeling sadness and emptiness, anxiety and a strange tightening in his stomach.

"Great! We studied together in her room and then she showed me around the whole campus. We even looked in the classroom where the students were painting portraits and she told me a bit about how it was done. Everyone was very friendly." He said quickly, clearly excited and pleased. He swallowed hard, sighing softly as he folded his wheelchair and threw it back into the boot.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asked calmly, returning to the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and turning on the engine.

"Yes, we had lunch in the university canteen. I could choose whatever I wanted." He said with satisfaction, a wide smile on his face.

He felt like asking him if she had mentioned anything about him, if she had anything to convey to him, but realised that there was nothing she might want to tell him.

She was doing this to keep her word to Daeron.

For a few weeks it seemed to him that he had locked himself in some kind of circle, looking forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays, days during which he would see her, albeit only from a distance, her figure bright and graceful.

He wondered with pain if she still had the bruises on her neck that his lips had left and swallowed loudly, feeling ashamed that his manhood reacted to that thought with a strong throbbing in his trousers.

He had suspected it before, but now he was absolutely sure.

He was fucking mad.

On the day the carnival ball was to be held, he was supposed to drive Daeron to the centre and pick him up after a few hours, but he decided that it wouldn't be worth going home for such a short time and he would just wait for them somewhere off to the side without bothering them.

As he pulled up in front of the building he swallowed heavily, seeing her from a distance, already dressed in her Esmeralda costume, her dark, loose hair tied with a violet scarf to form a headband, bells tied to her purple skirt, simple black ballerinas on her feet, round gold earrings in her ears, clanking bracelets on her wrists.

However, what drew his attention most was her white, buff long-sleeved shirt, tucked into the the sea-colored corset under her breasts that wonderfully emphasized her waist, it's sleeves lowered so that her shoulders were bare, it was slit down in the middle, showing the bare skin of her chest.

He swallowed loudly, looking away, feeling with horror that the very sight of it made him hard.

He grunted, helping Daeron out of the car and moved behind him, guessing that she wasn't going to help his brother dress after all, not wanting to invade his privacy.

"You really look like Esmeralda! So beautiful!" Exclaimed his younger brother, and she turned gracefully raising her hands with a clink of her bells and bracelets, showing off her costume in all its glory.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Where's my costume?!" He asked excitedly, and she picked up the large paper bag that stood next to her feet and smiled.

"Here. Let's go." She said lightly without looking at him, Daeron immediately pushed the wheels of his wheelchair and headed after her.

He moved behind them, feeling like an intruder, looking everywhere but at her, trying not to think about the sight of her partially exposed back.

She explained to him quickly what needed to be put on first and how – he was impressed that what she had made really did look like golden armour, but when he took out the individual pieces they turned out to be surprisingly light.

He locked himself and Daeron in one of the toilet cubicles, helping him to change, his brother looking extremely pleased.

"Are you two reconciled?" He asked, clearly thinking that since she was speaking to him again she had forgiven him. He swallowed loudly, not knowing how to explain to him that what he had done could not simply be taken back.

"I don't think so. But don't think about it. Hm?" He asked softly and he lowered his gaze, disappointed.

The sight of himself in the armour gave him confidence – it appeared that the whole thing had been designed so that he could flex his arms, elbows and wrists, the parts fitted together.

He thought with a pained grin that she had really made an effort.

"You look great. What a real knight you are. Come, it's time for you to dance a little with your beautiful Esmeralda." He said calmly, opening the door for him. He wheeled out into the corridor with a smile, his Esmeralda catching her cheeks with a wide smile of delight.

"My knight. Promise to protect me from the evil thugs!" She called out theatrically and glared at him – he swallowed loudly, turning his face away in shame, his younger brother assuring her that he would not let anyone hurt her.

Too late, he thought.

For some reason, he felt tears under his eyelids, his throat squeezed so tight he had trouble breathing.

He watched as they moved ahead into a large gymnasium where the lights were slightly dim, a disco ball was spinning on the ceiling, Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper was playing in the background, children and their caretakers spinning around, dressed as various characters and creatures.

Although many of the costumes looked quite impressive, he couldn't take his eyes off her – as she danced she sang the lyrics of the song with theatrical devotion as if she knew them by heart, her hair, bracelets and earrings glistened in the light of the multi-coloured lights, the sweat on the bare skin of her exposed arms glittered like little crystals.

He looked at her leaning with his back against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, covering up what was happening in his trousers.

He looked around the room and noticed a group of boys looking at her and Daeron. He frowned, wondering if they were the ones calling his brother Quasimodo.

He felt some kind of satisfaction at the thought that they were watching his brother dance with a pretty girl.

He really deserved her.

Such a good kid.

He left after a while, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket – even though he hadn't smoked in months and was trying to quit, he felt that what was happening was too much for him.

His hands trembled as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his lighter, taking a loud drag, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers on the base of his nose.

There was only chaos in his head.

"We need to talk." He heard her soft, trembling voice and turned around immediately, taking a few steps away, for some reason terrified by her sudden proximity.

He stared at her with his lips slightly parted, his body froze still, his heart pounding like mad, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

God, she was pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I can no longer take care of Daeron. I just wanted to keep my promise and go to the ball with him. I think he's had enough disappointments in his life and I didn't want to provide him with any more." She said shivering all over, looking everywhere but at him – he felt like he was about to vomit from terror and grief.

What?

"But…if I'm the problem, we can arrange it so that I bring him in a while early and you pick him up from under the main entrance. I'll pay you more." He muttered, completely surprised by her words, not knowing what to say, not wanting to imagine how his little brother would react.

She shook her head quickly at his words, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists in a nervous gesture.

"I can't. He reminds me of you. You two are similar in appearance." She mumbled and burst out crying, drawing in air loudly, covering her face with her hand in an attempt to calm herself. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat.

"I haven't told anyone about what you did to me, because in his eyes you are his authority. I don't want to put him through unnecessary suffering, but I expect you to come up with something and find some convincing explanation as to why I can't continue to take care of him, Mr Prosecutor." She muttered regretfully wiping her cheeks swollen from tears, struggling to catch her breath, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows arched in despair.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees in front of her, when he clasped his hands around her waist, dropping his cigarette to the ground – he pressed his face to her womb, breathing loudly, feeling like he was going through some kind of panic, his lungs compressed, tears streaming down his face one after another, everything around him seemed to spin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − please, please, forgive me −" He mumbled hysterically what he had wanted to say to her for weeks – he heard her gasp loudly in shock, raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, felt her place them on his shoulders trying to gently push him away, her stomach trembled under his face in sobs.

"− l-let me go − please, get up −" She whimpered pleadingly, but he shook his head – he thought he couldn't do it, he couldn't let her go.

"− I need you − even if for the rest of my life I will only look at you from afar −" He exhaled helplessly, sinking his nose into the material of her soft skirt, feeling her wonderful scent fill his lungs again, the warmth of her body that enveloped his face.

He didn't care that the people around them were looking at them like they were crazy, didn't care that perhaps they knew who he was.

"− I can't − I've tried − I've forgiven you, but I can't forget − you robbed me of my dignity −" She said in a raspy, broken voice – he felt himself whooping with his own tears, clasping his fingers at her back, his helpless mumbling ripped from his throat as if without the participation of his free will.

"− do what you want with me − fucking destroy me −"

"Aemond? What's going on?" He heard his brother's frightened voice and immediately rose from his knees, letting her go, both of them wiping their faces quickly, her cheeks pale and at the same time red from tears.

"We needed to talk. I'll be right back." She said quickly, forcing herself to smile – Daeron could sense the tension between them though, his lips tightened, his gaze wandering from him to her.

"Have you…reconciled yet? Has my brother apologised to you?" He asked uncertainly and she nodded and laughed lightly, something in her response made him clench his eyelids and swallow loudly – he covered his face with his hand, feeling that for some reason he couldn't stop crying.

You robbed me of my dignity.

"− y-yes − yes, we've already explained everything to each other, we simply got a little emotional − come on, let's go back inside −" She said softly and stroked his head – he smiled at her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" He asked, but he shook his head, choking out that he would wait for them in the car.

He locked himself inside in the driver's seat and put his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling an overpowering emptiness and this awful, terrifying chill, as if someone had gouged out his insides with a spoon like the flesh of a fruit, leaving only a mere shell.

He thought that he had died five years ago, on the day of that accident.

He only existed so that Daeron could live on.

He shuddered, as if awakened from a deep, restless slumber, hearing a knock on the window on his side – he glanced there and saw Daeron waving at him and his Esmeralda, looking at him uncertainly, terrified of his condition, dark night all around them.

He got out of the car, massaging his forehead, feeling a terrible headache, not being sure for a moment where he actually was or what time it was – in an automatic reflex he opened the back door and helped Daeron get in, he could smell her scent beside him, her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure you should drive?" She asked hesitantly, and he swallowed loudly, thinking that since the day of that accident he had never gotten into a car that someone else was driving.

"Yes. Shall I drive you back?" He asked lowly, not looking at her, folding Daeron's small wheelchair.

"No need, thank you, I'll get an Uber." She muttered, his younger brother furrowed his brow, looking at her worriedly.

"We'll drive you back. It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone." He insisted.

She sighed quietly and nodded, walking around the car, sitting down next to Daeron in the back seat.

He got behind the wheel and started the engine, involuntarily glancing at her in the mirror – their gazes met, her eyes sad and tired, full of a regret she had every right to feel.

He drove ahead, trying to wake up and focus on the road, looking at the lights of the cars passing him and thought that maybe if he had killed them it would have been better for all of them.

He grunted loudly, tilting his head back, leaning against the backrest, recognising that he had completely lost his mind, that he was sinking into depression and hysteria, that he had reached the very bottom.

It seemed to him that she sensed that something was happening to him – he was catching her on the fact that she was glancing at him uncertainly, answering something to Daeron who was chatting her up, talking about his friends' costumes. She was just nodding, pretending to listen to him, her hands playing with the material of her skirt in a nervous gesture.

God, how he longed for her to drive with him to their house, to go with him to his bedroom, so that he could kneel before her and whisper how sorry he was, how he wished he could make it all right, to slide with his hands the material of her shirt and her skirt, so that his lips could kiss her whole beautiful, warm body with devotion and adoration, her feet, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her face, her….

"WATCH OUT!" He heard her scream of terror and pressed the brake suddenly, at the last moment stopping in front of a crossroads where he should have given way to those driving on his right and left – a man almost rammed into them and started honking at them, gesticulating aggressively, opening his window and shouting, asking what the fuck he was doing.

He looked quickly in the mirror, feeling as if he was deaf, his brother was crying loudly, snuggled into her, shaking with fear, her eyes wide, staring at him in horror.

"… are you all right?" He asked dully, feeling like his head was spinning – he saw her nod quickly, and then suddenly he went dark in front of his eyes, his head dropped limply and hit something hard.

He was awakened by someone's conversation. He felt someone touching him, something pleasantly warm enveloped him – his body was lying on something soft and comfortable, he thought he was lying on the sofa in his house.

"− overwork, dehydration, stress, trauma − anything could have caused this, ma'am − when can his sister come? −" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"− his younger brother called her, but she only managed to buy a plane ticket for tomorrow −" He heard her soft, warm voice – he shuddered and opened his eyes with difficulty, wanting to see her, to make sure nothing had happened to her.

He spotted her blurred silhouette in the warm light of the night lamp – she was sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, still dressed in her Esmeralda costume.

"− can you stay here until she arrives? − are you a friend of the family? −" Asked the man who was apparently a paramedic, packing his suitcase and pulling off his latex gloves. She nodded.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm his little brother's carer −" She replied calmly, the man and she both glanced at him when they noticed he was awake.

"− how are you feeling, sir? − you had a panic attack and fainted − I have given you intravenous sedatives and strengthening medications, you should feel better soon −" The man with the black beard, surely a few years older than him, said to him.

He grunted quietly as he tried to raise himself up on his elbows, feeling everything around him swirl and lay back, giving up.

"− fuck − I'm dizzy −" He muttered, his stomach sore and clenched.

She rose from her seat as the doctors left Daeron's room, sighing heavily in relief when the woman explained that he had only been scared.

"Aemond!" He shouted when he saw that he was awake, riding up to him in his wheelchair, wiping his face red from tears.

"− I thought − I thought you had died − you weren't moving − w-we couldn't wake you up −" He mumbled, and he hugged his head to his chest, closing his eyes, stroking his soft hair with his large hand.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − I've been working too much lately and I fainted −" He lied, swallowing loudly, his brother nodding his head in understanding, cuddling into him like a teddy bear. He kissed his temple, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He thought he needed to pull himself together.

"− Esmeralda said she would stay with us until Helaena arrives − now it's up to us to take care of you − lie here and don't worry about a thing −" He said in a voice hoarse from crying and patted his head – he felt a tightness in his throat at his words, his eyebrows arched in emotion, he smiled involuntarily, feeling his lower lip tremble.

"− then I'm in good hands −"

He watched wordlessly as the doctors and medics left their house, Daeron showing his Esmeralda where she could find clothes to change into – she appeared a few minutes later in his long black hoodie reaching halfway down her thighs, her legs wonderfully bare.

She bustled around the kitchen with Daeron, trying to make dinner – he couldn't get out of his awe at what a harmonious duo they were, his brother talking to her without shame or embarrassment.

If he had been wiser, if he had given her a chance then instead of humiliating her, maybe now they would be preparing dinner together.

He rose to sit down when she brought him tea and sandwiches, thanking her meekly. He sighed heavily feeling he wouldn't swallow anything and although the medications were starting to work, he felt like his head was going to burst.

She only returned to the living room after she had helped Daeron change into his pyjamas and put him to bed. She approached him hesitantly and sat down next to him on the couch, not looking at him but at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, covering her knees with the material of his sweatshirt.

He looked at her, silent for a long moment.

"Exactly as I should after what I did." He replied finally, not knowing how else he was supposed to call what he was feeling.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in pain, regret and sadness in her gaze, but at the same time also some kind of concern.

He thought in disbelief that his fate mattered to her despite what he had done to her.

She lowered her gaze to her knees, fiddling with the material that covered her thighs in a nervous gesture.

"He needs you composed. Emotionally stable." She said sadly, her lips trembling.

He stared at her face unable to take his eyes off her, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch her, dreaming of her hugging him and locking him in her arms.

"I know." He said dryly, understanding exactly what she meant.

He couldn't be unpredictable, distracted while driving in the car, at work and on a daily basis.

Could not be distracted by her.

"Why did you do it? Then when I wanted to leave?" She finally asked in a voice quivering with grief, and looked at him, the depth of disappointment, sadness and emptiness in her bright eyes.

He licked his lower lip dry with stress and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he stared straight into her face.

"Because I wanted to feel you. You were so sweet and soft. You were melting in my hands. I couldn't stop." He muttered at last, feeling with shame how pathetic that explanation was, thinking he was just a fucking pervert.

He drew in a loud breath as she slid the blanket off him and sat on top of him, pressing her buttocks against what was under his trousers – he wanted to grab her hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline from disbelief, but she grabbed his wrists.

"No. Don't touch me. If I feel your hands on my body I'll start screaming. I will tell Daeron everything you did to me and that you tried to do it a second time." She said with a seriousness from which his breath caught in his throat; he immediately placed his hands as before on either side of his body, watching in disbelief as her tiny fingers undid his button and zipper, his cock immediately swelled and began to pulsate, a loud shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

God, was she really going to do this?

As if in response to his thoughts, she spread the material of his trousers to the side and slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection, twitching with lust, the head of it pink and glistening. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, swallowing loudly when he felt her grab it's base with a gentle flick of her hand and direct its thick tip between her warm thighs.

She had no underwear underneath.

She lowered herself onto him a tiny bit, barely sinking the fat head of his cock inside her, teasing him with the lewd click of her moisture – the sight of him stretching her slit and how wet she was turned him on so much that a low, helpless groan escaped his throat.

"− be quiet or I'll stop − do you want me to stop? − you didn't give me that choice, but I'm not that cruel −" She said with regret as he shook his head quickly, feeling how desperate he was to feel her again.

"− please −" He heard his own pathetic voice, not believing he was allowing it, but he no longer cared what she would do to him, he wanted to fuck her in any way she would let him.

He felt some relief at the thought of being humiliated, he wanted her to do to him what he did to her even though he knew she didn't have his awful nature.

"− what are you asking me to do? −" She whispered softly, almost tenderly, as if her superiority over him was giving her back what he had taken from her, her power over her own body, over what was happening to her.

"− use me −" He breathed out in a voice hoarse with emotion, saw that something had changed in her gaze, her lips parted in a shuddering breath.

He clasped his hands on the fabric of the couch and leaned his head back, gasping out loud as he felt her let him all the way inside her, his hard, fat cock throbbed aggressively with desire squeezed wonderfully by her hot, tight walls – he knew he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment and that she felt it too.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him, but not moving, waiting for his manhood to stop twitching inside her – her pretty, flushed face surrounded by her dark, shiny curls, her bright eyes fixed on him, her plump, swollen lips parted in a quickened breath.

"− use you? − mr. prosecutor wants to make me feel good? −" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and arousal, as if she herself was shocked by what she was doing and by the fact that he was listening to her, by the way he was responding to her, by how much he desired her.

"− yes −" He mumbled out and closed his eyes with a low moan, feeling that with flick of her hips she slowly slid his cock out of her only to push it back in with a loud click of her wetness.

"− why? −" She exhaled, moving on top of him painfully slowly, her tight fleshy muscles giving him a wonderful squeeze each time she forced him back between her plushy folds, they both began to breathe louder and louder. He bent his legs at the knees, involuntarily tentatively responding to her thrusts with deep stabs of his hips.

"− God, don't you see that I crave you? −" He groaned low, with the last of his strong will restraining himself from tightening his hands on her buttocks and forcing her to move faster.

There was something wonderful about this slow agony, in the way she teased him, rubbing herself at the spot from which she felt the greatest pleasure, a sweet moan escaped her lips at his words.

"− are you always like this when you see me? − like you are now between my thighs? −" She mumbled in embarrassment, speeding up, their naked bodies began to slam against each other with splats of her moisture – he dared to buck into her harder, they both began to pant loudly, looking at each other with their mouths wide open, her lips puffy with desire.

"− of course − I jerk off every day thinking about you − fuck −" He muttered with difficulty, feeling the tickle and heat in his lower abdomen, his cock swelling with desire so much that he felt like it was about to explode if he didn't come inside her, their naked bodies slamming against each other.

He delighted in the sight of her throwing her head back at his words, her hot core pulsed hard around him, sucking him inside, her fingers clenched on the material of his sweatshirt, her buttocks slapping loudly against his thighs, soaking him all over.

"− touch me − touch me −" She cried out and he caught her quickly, one of his hands weaved into her hair and pressed her face against his, their lips joined in an aggressive, thirsty, sticky kiss, the fingers of his other hand clenched on the soft, firm skin of her ass.

They moaned loudly into each other's mouths as he began to pound into her like mad, almost not sliding out of her anymore – he embraced her and hugged her body to his, gripping her around the waist, her hands stroking his cheeks, his neck, his scar, his cock thrusting into her weeping folds twitching and throbbing like crazy.

"− fuck − fuck, baby, m gonna cum −" He babbled between the flicks of their lips, tongues and teeth. She gasped and came at his words with a loud mewl of surprise – he felt her moisture run down her thighs onto his lower abdomen, her muscles began to clench on him greedily, squeezing him wonderfully. He threw his head back and moaned in relief when he felt his warm seed spurt out inside her.

"− oh God − oh my fucking God −" He mumbled, experiencing such an intense orgasm for the first time in his life – for a moment he went dark before his eyes, he could see or hear nothing, there was only the wonderful hot pleasure spilling over his whole body, his hands clenched on her hot skin.

He hugged her close, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck, covering their bodies with his blanket, not wanting Daeron to accidentally find them in this position, while having no intention of changing it.

He felt wonderful.

He stroked her soft hair placing tender, wet kisses on her temple, his other hand trailing reassuringly down her back, feeling that she was trembling all over with emotion, unsure as he was of what had really happened between them.

"− sleep here, little one − I won't touch you against your will − I promise −" He whispered, but her silence answered him – she breathed loudly along with him, lying still, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

"− I know −" She replied quietly after a moment, rising on her shoulders, sliding him out of her with a soft motion of her hips, his hands clasped helplessly on her thighs.

"− please, don't go −" He muttered, looking at her in horror, his heart pounding like mad.

Please, let me go.

"− I'm sorry −"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please, let me go.

She rose from the couch, trembling all over, covering her thighs with his sweatshirt, his semen mingled with her moisture ran down her naked skin.

"− I'll sleep in the free room next to Daeron's bedroom − I'll lock myself in − don't come to me and don't ever touch me again − we're even −" She said in a calm, quivering voice full of sorrow, sadness and emptiness.

He wanted to touch her fingers but she turned and left the living room, hiding her face in her hand as if she was crying again, disappearing down the corridor.

He lay looking dully at the spot where she had stood just a moment before, feeling a squeeze in his throat – with trembling hands he slipped his boxers back on and zipped up his trousers, feeling tears of disappointment running down the sides of his face onto the pillow under his head.

We're even.

_____

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(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[shuahoonie]

when you love someone | choi seungcheol

pairing: non-idol!seungcheol (svt) x female!reader

notes: angst, eventual fluff— maybe, exes to friends to lovers (?), slow burn, meddling friends, swearing, alcohol consumption. loosely based on the song 그렇더라고요 (when you love someone) by DAY6

word count: 4.3k

summary: some seek love and have the pleasure of keeping it, some never find it, and some aren't meant to find it. you and cheol are determined to discover whether love still exists beyond your old love letters.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

jun was always curious as to how you've managed to just sit there and laugh at chan’s comment when you're in the same room as seungcheol, let alone show up at seungcheol and jeonghan’s quaint cafe.

he knew better than to pry you for questions, of course, but knowing how deep your relationship ran with cheol, it was astounding to see you light on your feet.

“junnie,” you nudged jun who was sitting right next to you, evidently staring at you. “is there something wrong?” you asked quietly, careful not to attract any attention. most of the attention were on seungkwan and chan anyway as they were busy bantering about a prolonged birthday gift.

jun snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head no, a sheepish smile forming in face. “sorry, i didn’t mean to stare.” he apologized, scratching the back of his head.

“it’s all good,” you laughed softly. “sorry, i must’ve been talking a lot, huh? it’s just—” you sighed “it’s been a while since i saw you guys.”

“no, no,” jun was quick to dispute whatever it is that you were thinking. “it’s nothing, ynnie. don’t worry about it.” he smiled. “it’s just nice having you here.”

“it’s nice being here too,” you said half-heartedly, while stealing a quick glance at cheol, who was already looking at you from across the room.

a couple of days before you showed up at the café, you received a text from soonyoung, asking forcing you to attend this exclusive get-together.

the heads up was nice and it was sweet that they miss you because you miss them too— you were all friends first, of course.

“haohao,” you called your friend who was busy cooking in your kitchen. minghao was the only friend from the group who still hung out with you regularly— mainly because you two don’t live that far from each other.

“yeah?” he called back.

you walked towards the kitchen, leaning against the pillar. “were you ever going to tell me about it?” you pointed out, still looking at the message in your screen.

“tell you what?” hao asked, confused.

“the hang out.”

“what hang out?” hao knew exactly what you were talking about though. he was just trying to be… careful. right, careful.

“c’mon, hao,” you crossed your arms. you weren’t mad though, you knew exactly why they were doing this— why they’re trying so hard. it’s hard enough to get everyone gather at the same day, however, it’s even harder to have your friends— two of which used to date— to be at the same place. “it’s fine, you know.”

“well,” hao turned off the stove, carefully plating your food. “do you wanna go?”

“i mean, it’s been a while since i saw the boys together,” you mumbled, playing with your nails. “and besides, i miss them.”

“them?” hao smirked, as if he knew damn well that you were pertaining to someone else.

“shut up, minghao.” you grumbled, taking a seat at the table, the smell of hao’s delicious masterpiece filling up your nostrils. “thank you for the food.”

hao hummed in response, watching you as you eat your food with a pout, making him smile.

silence enveloped the rest of the meal. it wasn’t until you were washing the dishes when hao suddenly asked “you know, no one really figured out why you two broke up.” you almost dropped the plate you were holding upon hearing the question. “all i remember was cheol wanted to drink to death one day. if it wasn’t for shua and jeonghan that made him pull from his senses, i honestly don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“we were too young. too passionate, too—” you answered, trying to think of an answer that made sense because frankly, you didn’t know why either. “hao, we were each other’s world.” your voice drifts off.

minghao just listened intently to you. he could never really relate to what was said, because what you and cheol had was something different. it was never just young love, it was something more.

“cheollie, what if—” you groaned “what if i just drop out.” you said, closing your laptop in frustration. seungcheol laughed, making you glare at him. “you dare laugh? at my frustration?”

“i’m sorry, babe, but you’re just too cute.” he smiles, pinching your cheeks. “i’m also sorry because you can’t drop out.”

“and why not?” you quirked a brow at him.

“because your dad will have me delivered on a silver platter if he finds out i encouraged his daughter to drop out,” cheol replied making you laugh “and besides, dating a well-known curator is on the list of my life-long dreams.”

you rolled your eyes at the cheesy comment, fighting off a smile. “a list?” you asked, to which cheol nodded. “what else is on that list?”

cheol bit the insides of his cheeks, suddenly feeling flustered.

“wow,” you laughed “choi seungcheol, are you embarrassed?”

“yah! i told you i hate it when you call me that,” seungcheol pouts, crossing his arms.

“you’re being a baby.”

“that’s fine because i am your baby,” he grins, making you snort laughing. one of seungcheol’s dreams was to make you laugh till the rest of your lives. that was enough for cheol.

“ynnie,” chan hands you the third round of shots. “i heard you’re holding another— uh…” chan looked around, trying to remember the word.

“exhibition, chan.” jeonghan finished with a laugh. “you need to slow down, we’re only three rounds in.”

“hehe,” chan giggles “sorry.”

“it’s okay, chan,” you laughed before taking the shot. “but yeah, it’s going to be my first time exhibiting my own work.”

“that’s so cool, ynnie,” seokmin smiles adoringly at you. “we’re so proud of you.”

“thanks, you guys,” you replied shyly. “i— uh, it really means a lot.”

“of course,” jun nudged you playfully “we’re always here to cheer you on, you know.”

a collective mutter of agreements filled the coffee shop during its after-hours— a long string of support followed one after the other. from the group of muttered agreements, one voice seemed to stand out from others. one voice that meant so much to you. one that you longed to hear for so long.

seungcheol. he was looking at you with those adoring eyes, the ones that filled you so much comfort whenever you looked at them. there was a small smile forming in his lips— god, those lips. words cannot describe how much you miss those lips. it hurt that even after 3 years of your break up, you still long for him. but at least he was happy, right?

a couple of days before the planned hangout, the boys were gathered at heaven’s cloud coffee roasters— the coffee shop that seungcheol and jeonghan proudly own.

“so are we all meeting here then?” joshua asked, taking a sip of his iced americano.

“fine by me,” jeonghan shrugged “i just need to put a notice that we’re closing early that day.”

seungcheol hummed in agreement, the voices slowly drowning out. he was busy looking at your instagram art page. again.

whenever there was a fighting itch that he missed you, he would find his way to your instagram account. you still followed each other on your personal accounts, but you weren’t really active there. you had an art account where you post nearly every day. it wasn’t just drawings and paintings that were on that account, you also posted your letters there too. for seungcheol, that account was more personal as it encapsulated everything that was needed to know about you.

upon quietly scrolling through your account, he found a letter that you posted a couple of days ago, one that hit close to home.

“the last time i fell in love— i was twenty. i was probably too young to be thinking about love, but still, it was a force that shaped my entire perception of love.

at twenty-seven, i still have yet to feel it again. and if the multiverse is real, i hope a version of me finds someone who would still move mountains for her— to be loved as much as she loves.

because i learned the hard way that some people are meant to find love, yet they aren’t meant to keep it.”

joshua caught a glimpse of what seungcheol was looking at when he sat next to him. he was one of the few people who knew where cheol’s feelings lied with you. joshua’s one of the few people who also knew about your feelings with cheol, especially involving that art account that you practically dedicated to seungcheol.

joshua was not a betting person, but if he were, he knew that seungcheol had no idea that that art account of yours only existed because of seungcheol.

“are you looking at her account again?” joshua asked cheol quietly while the other guys were talking about what to eat and drink on the upcoming hangout.

“psh, what?” cheol instantly exited the page, putting a false face of appall “of course not.”

joshua rolled his eyes, knowing damn well that his friend was lying straight through his face. “whatever, cheol.”

knowing there’s no point in lying, especially towards joshua, seungcheol lets out a deep sigh. “i miss her, that’s all.”

joshua hummed, choosing to stay quiet. joshua knew about your true feelings for cheol when he, minghao, and seungkwan were in your apartment that one rainy night. you had invited them for dinner and to catch up because you haven’t talked in so long. drinks were involved so one thing led to the other, next thing joshua knew, you were still moping about your break-up with cheol.

“god, i miss yn,” soonyoung groaned out of the blue. soonie’s comment was enough attention for the boys to look at him, some of them with widened eyes.

“what?” soonie asks, almost innocently. “it’s been awhile since we were all hanging out together, i’ve always loved having her around.”

“soonyoung,” jeonghan warns him quietly, practically holding himself back from gesturing to seungcheol.

“cheol, hyung, you’ve moved on right?” soonyoung asks carelessly, making vernon— who was sitting quietly in the corner— practically choke on his drink. “you wouldn’t mind if invite ynnie right?”

jeonghan and joshua both looked at seungcheol the same time, with pairs of eyes full of curiosity, watching what cheol’s about to say.

cheol cleared his throat, “yeah, it’s fine,”

soonyoung grins— a little too mischievous as seungkwan would note. “perfect, i’ll text her now,” soonie says as he tapped furiously on his phone.

it’s not like you and seungcheol have been avoiding each other, that’s not it at all! you two would always see each other at a friend’s birthday or an event where you two have common circles— you two would always smile at each other, say a quick hi, but that’s the extent of it. and even then, you two were always surrounded by other people too.

“yn,” seungcheol practically seethes your name. “look at me.”

you hate it when you two fight, it only morphs you two into monsters.

“seungcheol,” you had to take a deep sigh before saying anything further as you’re trying to calm yourself down. “i’m tired. can we not do this right now?”

“no, yn, because you always do this.” seungcheol was getting frustrated too. he was always patient around you, but he is human after all. life is sometimes, though often, frustrating. “you always avoid the problem, even if it begs to be confronted.”

this got you heated because seungcheol was right, and it annoyed you that he was right. you don’t like confrontations. in fact, you hated them. for the entirety of your relationship, you could only count the number of times you initiated the apology.

“then what do you want me to do, cheol?” you asked, almost in a whisper. you closed your laptop, knowing well enough that you weren’t going to finish the report you needed for your internship.

“talk to me, yn.” cheol practically begged. “what’s going on?”

“i— i’m tired, cheol.” tears formed on the brims of your eyes.

“okay, we can take a break from studying,” cheol nodded, closing his laptop as well. you two had been practically living in the library for the past couple of weeks, trying to finish the your last semester head-strong.

“no, cheol, i meant—“ you couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence and even then, cheol knew what you were trying to say. “there’s never a day that we don’t fight and it’s—“

“frustrating?” seungcheol finishes for you, a small disbelief present in his tone.

“yeah,” you answered throwing your head back, trying not to cry but it doesn’t work. your tears kept betraying you.

he wanted to be mad because how on earth are you able to just throw a 4 year-long relationship with ease? but seungcheol cannot be mad— not at your frustration, not at you. because for this relationship to work, you two need to be invested in it.

it has been suffocating for you, it has been frustrating for cheol.

“okay,” cheol clears his throat, wiping his tears furiously. “let’s take a break then.”

“okay.” you whispered.

you two stayed in the library for another hour, bid each other a quiet goodbye and left on your separate ways— never to speak to each other again.

as the night gets longer, more drinks have been consumed. it was starting to get rowdy too— soonyoung and seokmin being the cause of it all. they kept squeezing out drinking games that was enough to keep everyone feeling buzzed.

you, on the other hand, started to feel like the room was getting stuffy. so you excused yourself for a minute and sat at one of the patio chairs, nursing the alcoholic drink that you were given earlier.

you could hear the laughter emitting inside the café and you couldn’t help but at smile at how some things never really change.

you heard a faint sound of bells from the door, signalling that someone was coming.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t—“ you whipped your head around and saw that cheol was standing there, a drink in his hand too. “i was just hoping to get some fresh air and—“

“cheol, it’s fine,” you reassured him, adding a small smile. “i know how drinking throughout that can be too much for you.” you nodded at your friends inside.

cheol lets out a small laugh, “yeah.” he leaned against the wall, enough to give you two some space from each other. a tiny part of cheol couldn’t help but feel happy that you still know that tidbit about him.

there was a blanket of silence that enveloped the two of you. it wasn’t awkward per se— but this was the first time you two were left alone in a while.

“so how are yo—“ “are you doing ok—“ you both said at the same time, making you laugh.

a soft smile appears on cheol’s face. it’s been a while since cheol saw you laugh— well anything that involved him, really.

“heaven’s cloud, huh?” you started off, admiring the exteriors of the café. “i’m glad you’ve finally reached your dreams, cheol.”

“i did promise you that i’ll run a coffee shop one day,” cheol said with a proud look on his face. heaven’s cloud is seungcheol’s pride and joy. all throughout his university years, he would find himself cooped inside the cafés near the university. it never occurred to him that taking care of people, by providing a warm cup of coffee and a place of comfort, was something he’d be doing.

cheol likes to think that it was you that led him here. he would always accompany you at coffee shops to study, would always buy you coffee and sweets. he did it so much that he would start doing the same thing to the guys. he would often buy them coffee unprompted, would feed them sweets.

they found it odd at first, because seungcheol was not the type to do all of that unless he was asked, but they’ve quickly learned to accept it because they saw how much it meant to cheol.

you were joking when you suggested that cheol should open up a café when he brought at least a dozen iced americanos to you and the rest of the guys one day. cheol remembered how he smirked at you and said, “wanna bet?”

so really, you led cheol here. cheol knew that you would never believe him if he said that, but it’s true. you hold so much influence in his life that it kills him that you’re not actively in his life anymore.

“i’m proud of you, cheol.” you said softly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear— suddenly not knowing what to do. “i hope you never forget that.”

"i know," cheol replied in a whisper. "i'm proud of you too, you know. always.”

"thanks, cheol."

“why do i have to give it to her?” cheol grumbled while he was fixing his hair, checking for any hair that’s out of place.

“you say that and yet you’re acting like this is the first time yn is going to see you,” jeonghan teased with a smirk as he watched seungcheol check his hair every 5 seconds at the reflection of his car window.

joshua and seungkwan laughed quietly at jeonghan’s comment, causing seungcheol to glare at them— which only makes them laugh even more.

seungcheol chose to ignore jeonghan’s sly comment. “where are they anyway?” he asked, checking his phone for the time. 10:07 am. The exhibition has started, cheol thought.

kwannie, cheol, shua, and hannie were waiting outside the gallery for the rest of the guys to arrive. hao was already inside helping you with your exhibit— as cheol assumed— along with vernon, who was kind enough to offer his help.

“jun texted that they had to pick up the cake and that they’ll just meet us inside,” seungkwan said out loud. “apparently, mingyu overslept.”

“that sounds about right,” jihoon commented as he, wonwoo, and soonyoung walked towards where cheol and the rest of the guys were waiting.

“here,” soonyoung handed cheol the bouquet of pink carnations that cheol specifically asked. “since you were so adamant about the kind of flowers and the colour.”

“oh, we’ve already decided that cheol’s going to hand yn the flowers.” shua smirked.

“i’m surprised you actually went,” wonu pointed out, knowing there is still some odd tension between you and cheol.

“uh yeah, she texted me about it.” cheol cleared his throat “she actually invited me here.”

the way cheol said it so casually, the way the words just escaped his mouth like silk— it was enough for the guys to stop in their tracks and look at cheol like he grew two heads.

“no fucking way,” jihoon comments out of astonishment, breaking the ice.

“oh my god, you guys actually came?” you were greeted with a bunch of warm smiles from the boys, each of them giving you a hug. “i thought you guys were busy?”

“are you kidding? we would never miss this for the world,” seungkwan commented as he gave you a tight hug. “besides, that was just soonie hyung’s elaborate plan of surprise.”

“well, consider me surprised.” you laughed as soonie gave you a tight squeeze. “feel free to roam around, there’s refreshments by the right corner.”

you have just hugged every one of them until you reached cheol— who was a sight for sore eyes. after being broken up for about 3 years now, it still baffles you that his presence alone makes your heart flutter.

you don’t even know why you invited him personally— you haven’t talked that much since the hangout at his café. actually, that’s a lie. you knew damn well why you invited him. a part of him lives within you— may it be in your artworks or your writing.

seungcheol was hesitant— he didn’t know whether he should hug you or not. he literally stopped in the middle of his tracks, his arms almost at mid-air. it was painstakingly obvious too— vernon, who was busy ushering people and caught wind of the situation, couldn’t hide his grimace.

you heard seungkwan’s panicked voice, forcing the others to go with him and leave you two alone. they were dying from curiosity, but even the strong-willed jeonghan could not stomach the awkwardness in the air.

as soon as the guys left, cheol had the courage to finally to say something. anything. “yn,” he cleared his throat “these are for you.” cheol said, handing you the bouquet of pink carnations shyly.

“oh, these are gorgeous,” you sighed happily “thank you, cheol.”

“of course, anything for you,” cheol said a little too eagerly. he cleared his throat, trying to mask his excitement. “it’s from all of us, really.”

“oh?” cheol raised his eyebrow at your confused tone. his eyes followed yours and saw that you were reading the card that came with the flowers— which flustered you immediately upon reading the note.

for the entire time that cheol was holding that bouquet of flowers, not once did he notice the card that was practically sticking out like a sore thumb.

“uh— can i read it?” cheol asked, immediately walking closer to you. you were about to pull the card so he can read it on his own but he was already mere inches away from you, peering over your shoulder.

this was the first time in 3 years that you two were this close to each other. his perfume immediately filling your nostrils, taking you back from how your relationship used to be. your heart was practically pounding. it also didn’t help the fact that he was still wearing the same perfume that you got him during your 2nd anniversary.

“yn,

life had so much colour when i looked into your eyes. it’s a strange thing, but that’s just how it is when you love someone.

yours forever, c.”

the typewritten note was staring back at cheol as if it crawled from the box of things he kept in his office and in to the bouquet. seungcheol wasn’t going to deny that he wrote that note to you— because he did. it’s just, the note wasn’t meant to be included in the bouquet.

he wrote that note a year ago— still in the process of trying to move on from your break up, even though it’s been two years. he was so close to mailing you that note along with a birthday gift last year. he only stopped himself because one, that would be weird and two, he would look desperate. cheol knows he is, but he wouldn’t admit that.

the guys like to believe that he never really got over you, which was obvious, because look at what happened. this also begs the question as to who saw the note in his office and who was the culprit to blame.

“cheol—“

“yn, i think we need to talk.”

you two started strolling around the gallery, not knowing where to go or how to start.

you stopped in the farthest corner of the gallery, near the fire exit. far from everyone, you both assumed. “cheol, the note—“

“i didn’t write it,” cheol immediately answers. his comment disappointed you as a part of you still longed for the idea that he still loved you.

cheol saw how your face faltered upon hearing his comment which panicked him. “i mean i did write it but not recently— i wrote it over a year ago. i was hung up on you, i still am i think, i just i don’t even know—“

“cheol, breathe,” you said grabbing his hands, rubbing small circles with your thumb. “it’s okay.”

you led him to one of the benches in the gallery, just so he can collect himself and so that you can calm yourself down as well.

a couple of minutes after cheol had eventually calmed down and has had a few minutes to take a breather, you asked “is everything okay? i’ve never seen you ramble like this.”

“yn,” cheol sighed, embarrassed at his erratic behaviour “i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“well for rambling, first off,” cheol lets out an embarrassed laugh “but i’m sorry for everything.”

you were confused. “cheol, i don’t think you have anything to apologize for. you didn’t do anything.”

“exactly, i didn’t do anything,” cheol was frustrated. “i should’ve fought for you, for us. i should’ve done something, anything—“

“cheol, i’m so confused.” you were about to cry from frustration “what are you trying to say?”

“yn,” cheol takes a huge breath “why did you invite me here?”

“what do you mean?”

“here, in one of the most important days of your life, in your career.” cheol almost pleads for an answer “why am i here, ynnie?”

“because…”

“because?”

“because you’re important, cheol. you will always be a part of my life. a piece of you lives within my artwork, my writing.” tears were starting to fall from your eyes “you’re in everything that i do, cheol.” you let out a small laugh, slightly embarrassed. cheol started wiping the tears from your face. “you’re here because i want you to be here.”

“what ever happened to us, yn?” cheol asked, looking at you straight in the eyes.

“it wasn’t our time, cheol— i remember us fighting a lot.” you sighed “i loved you, i still do, but we were hurting each other a lot.”

cheol hummed, because he remembered the same thing. he wished it was different, but even he knew that you two would’ve ruined each other.

“do you think it’s our time now?” cheol asked, looking at the artworks on the wall.

“maybe,” you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

BONUS: that's just how it is | seungcheol

for some reason ? it was really hard to write this ? that's why it took me a month to finish this ? i’m sooo sorry 😭

[tvgals]

‘ CHILL OUT ‘

pt.2

— e42! miles morales x black! fem! reader

synopsis — after breaking up with your accused of cheating boyfriend, you make new friends and better yourself on the journey .

cw; — miles is a sorry ass nigga, angst, hurt/some comfort i guess, was watching good girls during this, idk if ganke is canon on e42 but he will be because i said so, made up characters,

you sat in the bathroom for a while, scrolling through your phone. is this what it felt like to be a teenage girl? if so, this sucked ass and was totally overrated. you hear the door to the bathroom open and the squeaky sound of j’s hitting the water splotched floor. “y/n?” one of your friends call out. “what?” you reply, turning your phone off and laying your face in your hands. “can you please come out so we can all talk about this?” she asks, opening the stall door that you forgot to lock.

“talk about what? how miles cheated on me?” you ask, picking up your bag and walking towards the mirror above the sinks. “you really believe her over miles? miles morales?” you sigh and pull the brush out of your backpack to fix your hair. “please just talk to him. he loves you so much y/n and i don’t think you understand what you’re doing to him.” she tells you, fixing her own appearance in the mirror. “it’s just..how could i trust him or..” you start, looking at yourself in the mirror. “or? he hasn’t given you a reason to not trust him before, so why would he start now?” she questions you, walking out after she didn’t get a response. you grab your phone out of your pocket and look at your home screen solemnly, a picture of you and miles together in your bathroom while doing face care. you blink a few times to block your tears and walk out the bathroom, turning your phone off. while in the hallway, you see miles and one of his friends talking while walking down the hall. you take a deep breath and walk past them as hurriedly as you could, leaving out the school and to your dorms.

“she thinks i cheated on her.” miles tells ganke, throwing his head back in regret for not saying more to you. “well, did you?” ganke asks, hauling his backpack onto his shoulder. he was met with silence. “really, miles? you talked about her all the time just to go and cheat?” his now angry friend asked, this isn’t the first time he’s heard instances of miles cheating on his girlfriends, he just thought it wouldn’t happen with you. “i know, man. i fucked up.” “royally.”

you open the door to your dorm room and flop on your bed, tears streaming down your face. why did he do this to you? what did you do wrong? no no no, this was all his fault. his decisions. you hear your phone ring and you pick it up. ‘unknown caller’ you scrunch your face up and answer. “hello?” you say, not trying to hide the sadness in your voice. “i’m sorry, mi corazon. i didn’t mean-“ it’s miles. you don’t know whether to cry or laugh, to berate him or sweet talk him. “get the fuck off of my line.” you say coldly, waiting on him to say something else before you hung up. “baby, listen to me. it was a one time thing and-“ you let a cry escape your lips. he did cheat. she was right and you were wrong.

“so you did cheat? why, miles?” you ask, putting your socked feet into your crocs and throwing on a jacket. “i didn’t mean to. i was hammered and she came onto me. i’m sorry.” miles was currently sitting on his bed with ganke, tears welling in his own big brown eyes. he didn’t mean for this to happen, honestly! it was one big mistake that would’ve never been revealed if he didn’t show around jess. “sorry isn’t gonna fix shit, miles. get the fuck off of my phone.” and with that, you hung up and left out of your dorm.

you couldn’t comprehend what made miles do this, did some girl really come into him or was it something he did all on his own? either way, you needed someone to talk to and fast. you call your groupchat and wait for everyone to answer.

“y/nnnnn what’s the move girl?”

“righhht! and what the hell goin’ on with miles?”

“he cheated on me y’all.” you say out of the blue, cutting off everyone’s conversations. everyone looks like the camera with shock. “deadass?” jaya — the girl who notified you about this whole ordeal — asks, laughter seeming to fall from her mouth. “that shit isn’t funny..” another one of the girls said — aniyah, the one who was comforting you in the bathroom. “no no no,” jaya giggles. “it’s just how i told you and you didn’t wanna believe me.” she snickers, everyone going quiet. “you’re an actual bitch.” another girl says, hanging up the phone. “bye y’all.” you say, hanging up yourself, leaving the two girls to fight amongst one another. this hurt. this showed that you barely had real friends to care about you, that your ex boyfriend didn’t care enough to leave other girls alone and that everything was going downhill. you wanted everything to be better. you wanted to go and hug miles and have him tell you everything will be okay and it was all just a really really bad dream.

“y/n!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call your name from down the street. you turn around to see..jess? hm. “hi.” you say, waiting on her to catch up to you. “i heard about miles..” jess tells you, making her way beside you. how many people know? how does she know especially? “oh. who told you?” you ask a blank look on your face. “just..jaya.. she told me about how you didn’t listen to her, how she knew it was gonna happen blah blah blah..” she replies, rolling her eyes and using her hands for dramatic effect. “what else did she say?” you question, turning the corner trying to find the liquor store. “just some other stuff.” “what does ‘other stuff’ mean?” you ask, walking into the liquor store. “i’m not supposed to tell you.”

“what do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me?” you same through the aisles to find something to snack on. “she said not to tell you.” jess tells you, avoiding eye contact. “tell me or there was no point in you talking to me.” you open up the door withholding the drinks and scan through them. “she said miles called her phone a few times but she never did nun with him..” jess admits, her head hanging low.

“aight.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

TAGLIST ; — @sanrioglocks @neteyamsz @prettydumbslut @gobblethiskitty @brwnbbydoll @venusluvslove @mrs0hara @cu7ie @diorsbrando @kg003 @lulabon @cleosradio @yourrfavzxri @yu-rylee @noraloralei @love15things @sp1derm4nluver @perfectcreatorharmony @coconutxraikage

[erodasfishtacos]

As It Was (You Know It’s Not The Same)

prompt: part II of the pornstar!au; what happens after the shoot

warnings: angst,smut, minors dni

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part one

-

YN is staring blankly into her bowl of chicken alfredo that Niall was kind enough to make after they got home from the shoot.

She had so many different emotions coursing through her that it felt like overload and it was making her numb as not one single thought could be construed properly in her head.

Niall let her process for a while as he chowed down on his own meal, eyeing his best friend regularly to try to get a gauge on her mental status.

It jars them both when Niall’s phone begins to ring, the obnoxious default music echoing through the apartment and interrupting the silence.

His phone was face down, in typical Niall fashion, he flips it quickly and answers, barely glancing at the unknown number on the screen.

“‘Ello?” He states through a mouthful, ever the gentleman, and as soon as the caller begins to talk, Niall’s eyebrows pinch downward and he drops his fork as he listens.

“She doesn’t owe you shit, mate,” Niall responds loudly and YN already knows who it is, knows that Harry has Niall’s number but not hers because she changed it a while back when a subscriber found it out and called incessantly.

“I’m not asking her whether she wants to talk or not. If she did, she obviously would have stuck around to do so. You don’t get to make demands when you were the one getting your dick wet elsewhere,” Niall was nearly shouting at this point where YN didn’t even need to hear Harry to know that he was keeping a deathly calm tone with a sharp edge to each word.

YN had only heard him yell once.

-

“You won’t let me explain!” Harry erupts angrily, YN had never heard him this loud ever as he stood in the entryway of their apartment, “You’re kicking me out and you won’t even fucking let me explain to you what’s been going on!”

“You had time to explain,” YN grits out, there were fat tears streaming down her cheeks and she could not catch her breath, “But when I asked you wh-what was going on you lied. You said n-nothing was sneak-sneaky.”

Harry’s eyes soften a bit as he tries to step forward with his arms outstretched, “Baby, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out. Please, just let me help you first.”

“Don’t you dare,” YN manages to hiss between hiccups, taking a step back until she hits the wall behind her, “Don’t even think about touching me.”

Harry’s voice raises again, “You think that I would throw what we had away? For what? Sex? Are you that fuckin’ daft? When would I have time to get it anywhere when I’m trying to get with you every time I can? Our sex life is literally amazing.”

“You tell me,” She rebukes with a shake of her head, she just needs a minute to think and everything is going a mile a minute, “You tell me why.”

“You know what?” Harry scoffs with a clenched jaw, he looked more intimidating in this moment than he ever had as he spoke through his teeth, “The fact that you think I would ever cheat on you is disgusting. That you think so god damn little of me after I’ve spent the last five years proving my love and loyalty to you.”

YN’s bottom lip quivers at that, a fresh round of tears because this isn’t her fucking fault, and he is making her doubt herself right now.

“The fact that you’re willing to throw away this relationship because of something you suspect with nofucking proof. Just because of what you went through with your parents. That ready to get rid of me,” Harry’s volume lowers by the end, a watery edge of emotion to it, and YN watches him rub his eyes furiously to wash away the tears.

YN regrets what she says next because she knows they should have a conversation even if it’s not what she wants to hear.

However, she instead spits out, “Get the fuck out. I hope I never see your fucking face again. Go find the girl who was worth it and enjoy your life.”

And then she’s turning on her heel out of the room, the deafening sound of Harry slamming the front door shut as he leaves makes her ears ring and he had to have to splinter it.

YN has never collapsed to the ground before like she did right then, sliding down the wall in her kitchen and dropping her head to her knees - letting out the most earth-shattering wail as her soulmate walks out of her life.

-

“You can fuck off, mate,” Naill’s hard words interrupt her flashback as he pulls his phone away from his ear and presses the red ‘end’ button before setting his phone back down on the table, “Jesus. He wants your number.”

YN squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head and taking in a deep inhale because it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, she just knows that it’s not the best decision for her.

However, with the choices she made today to sleep with him, she wasn’t truly making great decisions anyways at this point.

It didn’t get him out of her system, if anything, it reminded her of how much her body craved him and how much her soul needed him - it reminded her of how broken she was without him.

“Thanks, Niall,” YN sighs as she pushes her full plate away, “I just…I just need some time to decompress. I’m probably just going to get a bath and head to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow. Thanks for everything today.”

Niall gives her a concerned look, not truly believing that she was okay enough to be alone but he nods, leaning over to kiss her forehead before telling her, “Call me if you need anything before then. Okay pet?”

YN agrees before walking him to the door, locking it behind him, and just standing there for a moment to gather herself - she hated that there were pinpricks of tears in her eyes because she missed Harry.

It didn’t help when she was undressing in her bathroom as her tub filled up, eyes tracing the bruises that Harry had left all over her skin - it was so unprofessional, actors knew that was in poor taste to leave marks.

Harry had proved once again how much he owned, controlled her body, even now with how tender the skin on her belly, hips, thighs were from his blunt teeth that nipped into her.

As she’s relaxing in the water, head resting against the basin as she watches a trashy reality television show on her phone, the dialogue pauses when there’s an incoming call on her phone from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone.

She can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the interruption as she answers with a short, “Hello?”

“Hello,” It’s a voice that sends chills down her spine, she swears her nipples tighten at the mere single word uttered through the phone.

“How did you get my number?” YN demands, her heart already beating out of her chest as she sits further up in the bathtub.

“I have my ways,” Harry responds uselessly before he’s continuing on, “You ran from me today. You broke your promise.”

“Let’s not talk about broken promises, Harry,” YN snaps automatically, defensive and on-edge instantly with the conversation.

How dare he.

Harry let’s out a low chuckle that makes YN’s skin prickle in aggravation, like he’s in on a secret joke that she’s not privy to, “I promise you that the conversation I wanted to have with you would have benefited you. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Why else would you need to call me?” YN prompts because if she’s not aggressive like this, she’s going to cry, and she hates not feeling in control of her emotions, hasn’t felt like this in so long.

“I’m checking to see if you’re okay,” Harry’s bravado had softened now, like it did when he would really baby her, “I know today wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for me, at least.”

“You got your rocks off, how wasn’t it easy?” She replies sharply, YN knew that it wouldn’t be easy for him either but she wanted to hear it, she wanted to hear Harry say how hard it was for him - she knew that was wrong but in this moment, she didn’t care.

“YN,” He huffs in disapproval, he seems to debate his words before speaking carefully, “To have sex with you after not being able to for a year. To have sex with the woman that I thought that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The only person I would have sex with for the rest of my life. It was fucking devastating.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence and he pulls away from the receiver to cough - he would always couch to hide emotion, it was a tell for him, always had been, and it makes her heart ache a bit.

“Well, you’re in the adult film industry now. I guess you gave up that idea,” YN hates how cold she sounds, her instinct is to comfort him, and assure him that she was struggling to - she couldn’t give in.

“No, not really,” Harry tells her, “Today would have been my first shot with another actor. All my other work has been solo. I haven’t slept with anyone since you. I feel like you showing up today was my sign that I don’t want to sleep with anyone else.”

YN realizes that she was digging her nails deeply into her palm, leaving marks, and she stops clenching her fist, resting it more delicately against her thigh, and she looks away from the lovebite that it lands on.

“I did two scenes,” YN mumbles under her breath, she knows she has no reason to feel guilty or bad about it, they were broken up, “One with a guy and I hated it so I did one with a girl and I didn’t like it either. I’ve been doing it solo since then.”

“I see,” Harry responds, his voice doesn’t give anything away.

“I-Does that make you mad?”” YN regrets asking instantly, she doesn’t know why she felt the need to fucking ask that - of course, she wants to know the answer but she needs a filter sometimes.

Harry pauses for a moment, thinking over his response carefully, “No. Just, it doesn’t feel good to hear, obviously, but I’m not upset with you, sweethea-.” He catches his pet name and rephrases, “Don’t act like you don’t remember what a possessive sod I was. It makes my skin crawl to imagine you with some else but it’s nothing that you did wrong.”

-

“Harry, baby,” YN giggles quietly as Harry’s mouth attacks her neck, sucking harsh bruises into the thin skin, biting at the crook of her neck as she knots her fingers into his curls to grip him, “S’okay, H.”

Harry’s hands curling into the waistband of her biker shorts, tugging them down her thighs along with her underwear, his hand finding her mound, and his fingers splitting through her plump lips to push up inside of her.

“S’mine, yeah? Tell me, pet,” Harry orders as he pulls back from her neck, only to bring their lips together as he crooks his two thick fingers forward to pet at the sponges spot inside her walls.

“Oo-oh fuck,” YN moans as softly as possible, her back hitting the stall door, and making a shuttering noise as he scissors his fingers to spread her open, thumb navigating to her clit to rub at it.

“I’m going to stop,” Harry bites out, acting like he’s about to pull out his fingers, and it makes YN let out the most spoiled whine which makes him drag his teeth against her jaw, “Tell me, whose this is? Tell me who owns this cute little cunt.”

“You, baby, you,” YN babbles quickly because she wants to come, she can feel herself dripping onto his palm, and it’s making the most filthy slick sound in the otherwise silent bathroom.

It was all because they were working out at the gym and while Harry stepped away to refill his water bottle, some guy took the opportunity to approach YN to ask if she needed help with weights, and lifting technique.

Harry did not miss the way the chiseled man’s eyes didn’t move from YN’s bum for more than a minute while she squatted and ignored his advances - acting like she couldn’t hear him through the music in her headphones.

“She’s good, mate,” Harry cuts in, his hand coming to rest possessively at the small of her back, fingers creeping towards her bum to let this guy know that he didn’t have a fucking chance, “Don’t fucking approach her again.”

Dude got the message quickly, scurrying back to a different bench press but Harry could still feel this creep’s gaze on his girl as she went about her workout and he didn’t miss the way other men at the gym stole glimpses too.

“Who am I? Say my name,” Harry goads as YN tries to clench her thighs together with her oncoming orgasm but he knees them even further apart, and with his free hand, he yanks down her sports bra until her tits spill out, ducking down to lick at the hard nubs.

“Harry, Harry,” YN chants as her thighs begin to quiver violently, her head knocking against the door as she lets her eyes close and let out a long mewl as the intense feelings rock through her.

“There’s my girl,” He hums approvingly, cheekily licking at his fingers before helping tug her leggings back up in the small gym bathroom, “All mine, yeah? Don’t I make you feel so good, yeah?”

“Always,” YN replies sweetly, leaning forward to give him an appreciative kiss and tug him into a hug which makes the tough man melt a little bit.

“Let’s get you home, shower you, and then I’ll give you a nice cuddle, hm?”

He was so fucking gone for her.

-

“I remember,” YN can’t help let the giggle spill from her lips at the memories of him.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Harry pouts but lets it dissolve into a laugh as well, “Fuck, I miss that sound.”

“Harry, why did you call?” YN sighs, bringing the conversation back to the now because YN felt herself melting into him like she always did and she couldn’t let herself do that.

“Like I said, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry reiterates, “It was an emotional day and you bailed before I could check on you. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”

She wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” YN couldn’t even deny how much of a lie it sounded like.

“YN,” Harry grunts firmly because he knew, of course, he knew, “We need to talk. Seriously.”

And this is were YN backs out, cowardly, she doesn’t care because she can’t talk, she can’t get her heart broken again.

“I, uh,” YN sputters for a moment, wracking her brain for an excuse, “I forgot I have something in the oven. I have to go. Bye.”

With that she hangs up on him, she knows hes going to call back, and like clockwork, he does - phone lighting up again with the unsaved number, YN silences her phone and tosses it onto the plush rug - slipping back down into the tub and groaning at the shit storm she got herself into.

-

YN was a bit early, always was usually, especially to an important meeting like today.

It was with Warren at the production headquarters, all that she’s been told is that it’s good news, and that she shouldn’t worry about anything because at first she thought she might be in trouble over something.

They guide her into one of the fancy conference rooms with sleek gray colors and modern furniture - she’s dressed in a professional outfit, a tailored suit and her favorite pair of heels.

Anxiously, she plays on her phone as she waits for the others to arrive, and after a few minutes, people begin slowly pouring into the room - they come with tablets, computers, notepads that mean business.

Warren walks in like he owns the place as always, a tacky white suit on with his black hair slicked back with so much gel it looks greasy as he sits at the head of the table, “Just waiting on one more,” He announces as he fixes his gaudy gold watch on his wrist.

YN should not be shocked at this point when Harry enters the conference room last, in a tailored suit too but his button up was barely buttoned, revealing the butterfly right below his sternum and his sparrows on display.

She can tell that Harry was also not expecting her there by the surprise on his face when he scans the room and sees her sitting there, he regulates himself fast and his face goes back to emotionless as he sits down closer to Warren in the last available seat.

“Okay, now I know you two don’t know why we’ve called this meeting,” Warren begins and picks up a little remote, clicking on a projector screen as multiple graphs pop up on the wall, “But this is about the video you two made last week. It’s the most view, top rated, and most downloaded video that has ever been posted on our sight. THe demographic is evenly split between male and female viewers. The age demographic also ranging from eighteen to sixty. The advertisement revenue has brought in nearly five million dollars alone.”

If YN wasn’t working on controlling her facial expression, her eyes would have bugged out of her head at the announcement - she hadn’t been tracking how successful it had been but she did not expect that.

“Based on the majority of comments, female fans loved the intimacy and realistic interaction between you two. They reported that it reminded them of a real couple. Men commented that they enjoyed that dominance of the Harry and how responsive YN was to him.”

YN felt the heat rising to her cheeks as they discussed the topic, her eyes glued to her hands as she nervously picked at her nail beds until it hurt, she didn’t know where this conversation was going.

“We are offering both of you an opportunity,” Warren continues with excitement in his voice, “A series on the channel. The catch is that we will be asking you two to exclusively film with each other at this time. We are aiming for at least ten videos but possibly more based on the continued popularity which we do not see as being a problem.”

Oh god.

“The team has decided on a generous offer of two point five millions dollars for ten videos plus added bonuses contingent on the advertisement revenue,” Another businessman speaks up, he’s clicking around on his laptop as he talks, “Then there will be another offer if the series continues.”

Two point five million dollars.

Never.

Ever.

In YN’s wildest dreams would she think she would be offered that amount, right in front of her, let along to get to do the videos with the only person she’s every felt sexually compatible with.

She wouldn’t consider herself greedy but that amount of money would really really push her life in the right direction, she could find a better apartment in the city, she could do so much.

YN was willing to put up with the emotional sacrifice, fuck, she’d hire a therapist with that money if she had to but she couldn’t imagine turning that down all because it’s will Harry - she’d had sex with him for free anyways.

It’s a no brainer.

So it’s an absolute shock when YN gazes up at Harry, who’s sat back in his seat with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed.

Her heart drops into her stomach when he makes direct eye contact with her and tells the room, “Absolutely not. I decline the offer. I have no desire to participate in this.”

[chukys-mouthguard]

back with another song related request but this time it’s when the party’s over by billie eilish, typical angst turns smut or fluff with jamie drysdale (or trevor zegras)

as usual can’t wait to see what you come up with and i hope you had a good weekend 🫶🏼

nothing is better

2k words

genre: angst; ending is suggestive of smut or fluff, whatever your heart interprets it to be

featuring: trevor zegras x female reader

request: yes

note: this was honestly hard for me because the song was really difficult to interpret, but hopefully i did alright 🫶🏼

Trevor’s finger hovered over the screen, debating on whether or not he wanted to toy with his emotions and call you. It was late. His eyes glancing at the clock, 2:42am. Surely you would be asleep.

Though his call wouldn’t necessarily be unexpected, he did this almost every time he went out with the boys. Getting drunk, missing you, and ending up at your place. The “relationship” one that you surely should’ve expected from a young NHL star like Trevor. It was strictly sex, to put it bluntly. It’s what worked for you both, though you’d occasionally questioned why it couldn’t be more.

Trevor telling you he wasn’t ready, he couldn’t handle his schedule along with a relationship. And he never saw things with you being more than what they were.

But he was lying, to you and to himself.

He wanted to have everything and more with you. Date nights, to see you at his games wearing his jersey, posting tons of pictures of you on his social media to show you off. But he knew that he was only bound to hurt you. His schedule being so demanding, and you deserved a boyfriend that could be there for you whenever you needed them. Not one that would be gone weeks at a time, whose game days left no time available to be with you.

And while he knew a relationship would end with him breaking your heart, he couldn’t help but feel simply hooking up wasn’t any better. Knowing that you longed for more, and while he did too, he’d never give it to you. It seems cruel, unfair even for him to knowingly continue being friends with benefits. It wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed doing, but he kept it going because it meant he could still have a part of you. Even if that was for only a few hours every now and then.

So he tapped your name on the screen, holding the phone to his ear as his fingers traced over his steering wheel while he waited to hear your voice.

“Trev, it’s almost 3 in the morning. Really?”

Your tone immediately told him it was wrong to call, but he couldn’t help that he’d wanted to see you. Not even for the sex, just to be with you. To fall asleep next to you and pretend for a little while that things were different. Until the morning came to pull him back to reality and he’d have to leave, not knowing when he’d see you again.

“I’m sorry, I can head home. I just, I wanted-“

“It’s fine, you can come over. Just, hurry up. Please.”

He could hear in your voice that you wanted to say no, to tell him another night would work better.

Anything.

But the second you’d heard his voice, to know he wanted to see you, even if it was just for sex, you folded. Taking any moments with Trevor you could, knowing all too well you’d regret it in the morning.

As much as you knew this would never be more than strictly sex, you kept it going because you were so sure it could be more one day. That Trevor would stop telling you he couldn’t handle it. That it was for the best because he would only hurt you in the end. But even in him trying his best to protect you, it broke your heart every time he’d walk out the door. Never knowing when you’d see him again, simply having to wait for a night that he reached out or you were desperate for him and he was free.

Though you couldn’t help but admit you felt dumb, letting yourself be stuck in a strictly sex situation with someone like Trevor. It was almost a classic trope that if your friends knew they’d criticize you for. Confirming your own thoughts of being stupid for holding onto something he’d clearly told you would never be more than what it was.

You never having discussed your feelings about it all with Trevor, just tucking them away because what was the point? Surely he cared somewhat, but not enough to be in a relationship with you so why bother boring him with your displeasure with the way things were?

A simple “here” text came from Trevor letting you know to head to the door. Opening it just as he prepared to knock.

The tan, brown haired boy smiling that signature grin down at you as he walked in. Wrapping you in a hug and kissing your head, lightly chomping on gum he’d probably popped in his mouth on the drive to eliminate any lingering taste of alcohol, remembering how you hated the taste of beer when kissing him.

“How are you? Missed you.”

The words tugged at your heartstrings, but you tried your best to ignore it, not reading much into it as it was something he’d always said.

“Tired, not really in the mood if I’m honest.”

He could see on your face you weren’t yourself, normally you were happy to see him, no matter the time. But it was clear you were upset, something clearly on your mind.

“So, let’s talk.”

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest as he pulled out a chair and sat at your island. Talking wasn’t something you did, and you weren’t sure what his intentions were. It was late, he didn’t come for this, why would he come for this?

“Talk? That’s why you called me at 3am, to talk?”

“Well you’re not in the mood, I’m not gonna make you sleep with me if you don’t want to. So, what’s wrong?”

His tone was a bit snarky as he shrugged, waiting for you to explain yourself to him. But you knew there was no point, the second you’d start he would cut you off and tell you we’ve been here before, you know my feelings about it.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t care.”

Shaking your head you retreated to your bedroom, figuring if he didn't want to sleep with you he’d leave. But instead he followed you, grabbing your hand to get your attention.

“I do care, why the hell do you think I don’t?”

“Because you only talk to me for sex Trevor!”

Your words echoing through the apartment as he dropped your hand. This wasn’t a side he’d seen from you before, even in previous times where you’d brought up wanting more. It was clear to him you weren’t happy.

“That’s, that’s not entirely true. I mean, sure it’s sex nothing more serious. But to say I only talk to you for that? That’s bullshit.”

“Name 5 times you’ve called or texted where sex wasn’t your main reason for doing it?”

Counting to ten in your head you waited, Trevor not able to formulate a response. Telling you all you needed to know.

“Exactly my fucking point. Just, go home Trevor.”

Climbing into bed you’d hoped he would get the hint and leave, but that small part of him that so desperately longed for more with you stopped him from walking out. Knowing he’d lose you for good if he did.

“You think I don’t want it to be more than just sex? You think I like the way things are?”

“You tell me that you like things this way!”

“Because I’m lying y/n! I’m lying to you and to myself!”

His shouting caught you off guard, Trevor sitting at the foot of your bed and resting his head in his hands. Trying his best to figure out what to say, but knowing it wasn’t going to be the right thing.

“Lying? So you just think this is some type of game? To toy with my emotions like that and lie that you don’t want those things with me?”

His fingers gripped at his hair as he knew this was going to do the opposite of fix things. This would be it, because it was clear he was no good for you. He cared too much about not caring at all. To pretend that he had all these reasons for not being with you, when in reality it was simply that he was afraid to hurt you. Lying just to avoid the negatives, when there was no guarantee they’d even come, it was wrong.

“No, I, it’s not a game to me at all. I just, I can’t give you more. I told you from the start if we took things further you’d end up hurt. And i care too much about you to do that.”

“And what do you call this? Cause this shit hurts. To know we could’ve had those things, but because you were too scared of something that wasn’t even guaranteed to happen, you just used me? What the fuck Trevor.”

He saw the pain in your eyes, tears welling up in them as you tried your best to be strong. Ignoring the thoughts of you were right after all or the fact that you ended up looking like a fool for believing you could change his mind.

“I, I couldn’t lose you. Even if I only got you for a few hours every now and then, I couldn’t lose that. Lose you. So yeah, I lied to you and myself, I lied to convince myself that I couldn’t be more for you. That I wasn’t good for you. And, you let me in, but I still hurt you. The point of me saying all of it was so you didn’t get hurt. I’m sorry, I really am. But please don’t think I didn’t care, because in reality I cared so fucking much.”

His words meant nothing to you at this point, to know you could've had everything you wanted with him. That he’d been hiding the fact that he wanted the same thing. It broke you. The way he would do what he could to always convince you not to walk away. And you let him stay, walk all over you. You let him hurt you like this.

“I fucking hate you Trevor.”

Wiping the tears from your face you stood up, crossing your arms as you waited for him to get the hint it was time to leave. His eyes regretful as he saw how hurt you were, reaching for your hand but you retreated.

He couldn’t see you this way, not because of him. Though this is exactly how he’d imagined, it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Please, don’t hate me.”

His voice above a whisper as he stood up, pulling you into his chest and fighting off your attempts to break free. Eventually giving in and crying into his embrace. His hands tracing circles on your back as he attempted to calm you down. Giving you time to breathe before he’d pulled away, taking your face in his hands.

He searched your eyes for any clue as to what was going through your head, but all he could see was the hurt behind them. It broke his heart to know that he caused this. That you could say you hated him. He never wanted that, he never imagined things would turn out this way.

Pulling you in for a kiss was all he thought to do, hoping that you’d reciprocate and take back the words you’d said. The moment his lips touched yours you felt yourself falling deeper into the hole he’d dug. Wanting so badly to stand firm in your feelings, but knowing you’d miss him the second he left you.

Trevor rested his forehead on yours as he held your hands, trying to convince himself that this was it. That it was time to walk away and give you the freedom you deserved. The freedom to no longer be hurt by him.

“I just, I can’t leave you like this, upset and saying you hate me.”

His voice was soft, wavering as you could tell he was trying to ignore any emotions he’d felt. Clearly trying to convince himself that he needed to be done, but failing.

“Then don’t leave.”

[sherewrytes]

Lost cause

Sukuna x reader

Sukuna and Y/n has been distant for some time. Talks and time spent together become less and less.

genre. fluff to angst (idk), established but toxic relationship, 18+

tags/warnings. boyfriend! sukuna, profanity, smoking, alcohol/intoxication, talks of depression. minors dni.

notes: This is just straight off the dome, unedited. I just had a plot and rain with it. Hope it doesn't make you cry.

You were tired

It was 8:51pm, you hadn't heard from Sukuna in two weeks really. The last messages you got was him saying

Bro stop spamming my messages. We will talk soon I thank you for checking in but I'm not in the right headspace rn, I'll talk to you soon

Thank God you can see notifications on your screen so you won't have to open his messages. You left it unopened. This is how things were between you two right now. You'd barely speak then hang out once a month, talk a bit then he's MIA again. You knew Sukuna had shit hard. Family passed, taking on a lot of responsibilities that aint his own. You knew that somewhere deep down he cared, or maybe you wanted to believe he still cared.

The I love yous over the months were less and less, you went from babe and baby to just a simple bro. You felt iced out of his life. You kept your promise to be there for him but it's like he was failing on his.

You laid in bed contemplating calling him but knew he most likely won't pick up. You contemplate smoking a blunt or just drinking altogether to ease the pain you felt but you thought "what's the point." You wondered if to pray for some sign he still wanted this and much as you did.

Your mind played on a conversation you guys had last month where he told you he still wants this relationship and still wants you. He said, "I stay away when things are hard with me mentally cause I don't wanna bring that shit to you." You laid in bed replaying old voice notes to hear his voice. You closed your laptop and turned off your wifi on your phone just so you won't be tempted to call him.

You remember the moments you'd talk for hours on end. He would always show up when you needed him most but these days it felt like you were showing up for yourself more than he was. Some days you felt tempted to end things other days you felt the love come back.

You remember another conversation you had with him after an argument you had over something, and he said he's worried that you're losing feelings for him. You didn't confirm or deny it.

It's now 11pm

You already texted Sukuna for the night, and there was no answer. Your messages were unread. You saw a text message came in. It was Sukuna it was just a voice note saying

"Hey there, good night. Still not in a good space mentally but as you know when things get tough you gotta keep going"

You listened to it, missing the sound of voice so much, it almost moved you to tears. You felt like confused on whether you should keep trying with him and being patient or just end it. You simply responded

"Thanks for the motivational pep talk and you're happy to see he's a bit better."

After that, it was back to radio silence with Sukuna again. You felt like your world was falling apart. He was the one who chose you. He pursued you, so why was he acting like this. He kept saying he cared, but he's never around. The stuff you know about his personal life is tough and you get why things are a certain way.

You were tired of always feeling like you were putting in more than you were getting, wondering if you were just being played or used. Tired of conversations so you decided to just live your life and whatever happened between you and Sukuna happened.

He was tired

Sukuna was tired of always making you feel like you meant nothing. There was no one else for him but you. His feelings for you overwhelmed him. All he could think about was you. He needed a moment to clear his head and all it made want was you. He won't deny the time away from you helped him. He was scared to come back around. He knew you weren't one to tolerate shit. He wants to be better not only for himself but for you. He hoped this time away helped you as much as it helped him.

He saw your texts, your missed calls. He was avoiding it, fuck, he was avoiding you. Maybe he was avoiding the emotions you made him feel. He still remembers how your lips felt when you first kissed him. How soft your hands were in his. How the shade of baby blue on your nails when you first met warmed his heart.

He was scared to lose you. He felt like you were done with him. He wasn't done with you. He wants to be better. He hates pushing you away. He knows it's his trauma and his pain from his fucked up life.

He hates that it's ruining everything he wants. He wants you, only you. You're the only one he gets emotional with. You're the only one he talks to on a deep level. He knew from the moment he heard you in the background some months ago when he called Toji. Your voice alone, let him know you were his.

He wants to fix things but he feels like you're done. He sees the signs. He knows he should be doing more but right now, his life and his mind is overwhelmed. He still loves you but he isn't sure if you still love him.

Sukuna finds himself outside your apartment, dreading this moment. He decided to try to fix things. He runs his hand through his hair then knocks on your door.

Your door opens and it's Sukuna. You were shocked to see him there. It's 10pm. You sigh and said "Oh you suddenly remember me?"

Sukuna face paled just a little then he sighed. " y/n, can we talk...please."

You study his face expression, you want to hear him out but decided against it. You told him frankly "Sukuna it's late. I think you should just head home." Sukuna felt tears sting the back of his eyes. There was no love or anything he remembered in your eyes. He panicked " y/n please, I just wanna explain what's been going on with me."

You sigh and close the door in his face. Sukuna was shocked he never got that reaction from you ever.

Were you done with him for real Did he not matter to you anymore Did he spend to much time away Did someone get into your head

All these thoughts were racing through his mind. He fished out his pack of cigarette from his pocket and lit one up. He stood at your door for as long as it took him to smoke three cigarettes back-to-back before he realised he should just leave.

He headed down your complex's car park and hoped on his bike and headed home. He walked into the usual. Mom and Step dad on the their phones. His little sister on his laptop. His twin brother studying trying to use education as a way out of this hell hole they all lived in.

He sat alone in his room, thinking about how he fucked up, the one thing that was good for him. He found himself outside sitting on the wall in his family back yard scrolling through old messages between you two. He saw how his I love yous became less, how you'd express how him being hot and cold upset you. He saw everything. He saw you lashing out on him cause of your own issues as well. It made him feel sick.

He approached you first and he couldn't be consistent. He started hating his life. he mumbled to himself " If shit wasn't so fucked him in my life I'd have her. I'd give her everything she wants."

he remembered an issue you both had where a former friend/ fling of yours was trying to get with you. He remembered you showing him the messages and the emotion seething through him. He remembered the fear that he might lose you to someone else. How can a guy say he knows you better than him, knows what you like what you love. That's his role. He begged you for the guys handle to have a word him with him. The guy paid Sukuna no mind.

Sukuna realized he has no pictures of you and him together. NONE. all he can do is look at the pics you sent him randomly and feel sick. Why the hell was he doing this.

He found himself back in your messages sending a long voice note.

You were pissed off at Sukuna having the audacity to show up at your door. It's been almost a month of almost little to no contact. You decided to send him home and get back to your own devices. You were scrolling on Tik Tok when you saw a message from Sukuna. You clicked on it, planning to leave him on read and saw it was a voice note. 7 minutes.

You were curious so you pressed play. The first thing you noticed was the lick of his lighter and the usual inhale. His voice sounded a bit shaky y/n. You...You, there's shit I've done that I didn't mean to do. I wasn't aware I was doing this shit. I've just been treating you based off my past experiences and that's how I usually am with people. I tried to handle you different, well they way you would want me to..... for the most part. I dont have the type fo conversations we have....had with anyone. I dont sit down one on one and talk to people the way I do with you. You heard him flick his lighter again and inhale then exhale. then he continued People around see me different than how you see me. They see me as positive and serious. The way Im with you. I don't be like that with anyone. If you get what I mean. I won't lie y/n you're difficult to deal with, fuck even Im difficult to deal with. I know you're way more sensitive and I can't deal with you, the way I deal with others in my life. Dealing with you sometimes, it's complicated for me, highly so but it's also new and different. Im still trying to learn you in that way. I've never had anyone like you before y/n. I can only do so much from what I know and try to understand your old world and how things are from your perspective. Im being honest it is difficult for me. Sometimes I need to take a step back to try to understand and if I can't, you make me understand. You heard Sukuna sigh then he continued on again.

Me working on myself and bettering myself for you and like my future with you would be an amazing thing. I understand that you gotta work hard and grind to get that shit as well but everything I do is for a reason. I don't do shit to spite anyone or hurt anyone especially not intentionally. I may be rough at times but I got my reasons. Im only human. Im always....Im used to thinking people are attacking me and I always push people away. Idk why I do. I don't know if it's ptsd, I don't know if it's self harm. I don't know if there is something I don't like about myself that causes me to act this way and push people away. I don't know if it's just that I can't accept certain things about people and certain things about myself. I try to understand a lot more every day and that's one of the reasons why I wanted some time to myself.

I wanted time for you for yourself as well to think. I wanted time for me to think. You told me when we met, I met you at an awkward time and from there everything was like a rush. I just wanted to take a breather. I wanted to live in the moment of life. hopefully this mini break which was partially intentional. I wont say it was fully intentional only partially. I felt like I didn't have a choice. I mean in a way I did and I didn't because I know couldve gotten help but at the same time y/n I didn't wanna use the time I had to just drop everything and come online and be around when I wanted to just grind and try to get shit together. I just needed that space for myself to think and comprehend things and I hoped it worked for you as well. I didn't do any of this to like really..... I won't say it's all your fault. I wanted some time to recuperate my mind. you know, there is multiple reasons why. That's why I came overI wanted to have a talk with you. I'll you sometime...if you want that and we could discuss a lot of things. Im only human.. I dont know if anything I said made sense to you y/n....

The voice note ended. You didn't know how to respond to him

He then sent you a gif with the caption this be us fr

You just stared at your screen not knowing what to say. Sukuna's words confused you. You decided to at least sleep on it and think.

[mrsackermannx]

BAD DREAMS .ೃ࿐

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru

Summary: Gojo knows he shouldn’t. But when he wakes up calling out his name he can’t resist—he needs him.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Degradation, Rougher Sex, Face-fucking, Multiple Positions, Switch Dynamics, Mirror Sex, Feelings, Hurt/Angst, Emotional/Comfort (this is them in their early 20’s), Not Beta Read, little OOC (wrote this for some fun).

Author’s Note: I’ve never written character x character much but I got inspired and wrote this for my angels. I love the headcanon that they saw each other secretly as the years went by.

Satosugu playlist here

Gojo Satoru’s apartment is sort of like you’d expect, endlessly and stupidly lavish but extremely cold and maybe a little empty. 

One might wander through it and see that its very interior was still waiting for someone to come home, much like the penthouse’s owner. 

The kitchen is modern and sleek, it all blends together cohesively, lights that turn on just by sensing movement. But it’s awfully large to cook in alone, it’s large enough you could envision one lover sat upon the counter with their legs swinging back and forth, whilst the other was clad in a novelty apron and stood at the stove.

A stupid one that said “kiss the chef” or something, Gojo always wanted to get Geto one of those when they moved in together one day. But it never happened.

Shoko brought him a bunch of ornate glass jars to store his candy, decoratively. But all those pretty jars lined up on the counter like that, in some kind of defensive line. They simply seemed to remind Gojo that there was no one to scold him for eating too much of it and not a real home cooked meal. 

No wonder Megumi couldn’t cook, he clearly couldn’t either. 

The large l-shaped sofa was so comfy Gojo slept on it more than his own bed, every corner of it was swimming in blankets and pillows. That way he doesn’t have to feel the empty space between him and the soft plump grey cushion. He doesn’t have to remember the chest he should have his cheek pressed against when he’s watching movies on the flat screen—alone.

Geto told him once that he hated the couch he had back home. Gojo wanted to give him all the space to breathe and be, he wanted their long legs to intertwine and enjoy the expanses of plush cushion together.

One time he even drunkenly said he’d have rather sat on milk crates, rather than his shoulders jutting into his fathers, or his mothers while he sat. He was always tall and broad, feeling like he took up too much space. He always wanted his own space although his room at Jujutsu High with Gojo felt like heaven on earth. They slotted their beds together most nights. 

The bathroom was probably the worst reminder. The shower itself was a room. Geto loved spending time just letting the water cascade down his back. Making that beautiful black hair of his heavy with water as the steam that rose danced before his spine and kissed the muscles of his back. 

The bath was large too, circular and deep enough for four people let alone two. It overlooked Tokyo, perfect for the placing of candles just beside it. Dark and slick and romantic. 

The bedroom featured a king sized bed in which the tall white haired sorcerer slept alone. 

But if the walls could speak, they’d reveal that the apartment and the owner were indeed waiting for a special someone to come home, but not in a final sense. In a sense that meant they were never finished with each other, that the bathtub had housed them both many a night, that sometimes Gojo clung to Geto as he used the stove. That most of the time they never made it to the bed, that the sofa really did do just fine.

It hadn’t even been a month, but the entire penthouse was waiting with bated breath. Tokyo’s landscape waited for the two lovers to feast their eyes upon it as they pinned one another against the glass, and as they watched at the lights of Shibuya with half-lidded eyes after, bodies entwined in the tub. 

Gojo was waiting, whether he knew it or not.

He clutched his pillow so tight the cotton burned the tips of his fingers, as he did everything to catch up to the person who was slipping from his fingers in his mind. “Suguru, don't! Please, just—don't leave me, you promised me,” he blurted out, his voice small.

It was always the same rotten dream, though it was because these feelings never went away. The emptiness never ceased, Gojo put black holes through curses without even blinking, whilst the black hole where his heart used to be enabled him to be as apathetic as was socially acceptable. 

Not that this applied to his beloved students, or even Nanami, either and especially not his first love. If anything it applied the most to himself. 

He tried to run but his legs were captured by low-level curses, they wound around his calves until the blood there ceased to flow. Until he fell and his teeth took the blow as they crashed into the concrete. He could make out wisps of long black hair, the familiar shuffle of Geto’s walk, the way his fists bunched at his sides. They bunched like that that day too.

Gojo always teased him about it when they were teenagers, it always ended up with Geto setting of Jujutsu High’s barrier with his cursed energy. Years later it also ended with Gojo pinning Geto to his bed, his smirk ghosting Geto’s lips. “Don't hide anything from me, Suguru. You don't need to—ever.”

He jolted out of his nightmare so quickly he instinctively shot out his arms to clutch the one person who could comfort him. But he wasn't there.

Instead he clutched the pillow to his chest, wincing at the familiar roughness of the cotton. Geto always told him to switch to silk, his hair would stop sticking up so much, he told him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing down the strands and stroking his undercut just like Geto used to. “This—again.” He exhaled deeply, “No one knows about this but you,” he spoke softly to the darkness.

“No one knows about us either.” 

He caved in minutes. The false bottom of his nightstand drawer clattering as he groggily searched for the second phone he kept there. He held his breath as he turned it on and dialled the one and only contact.

It only needed to ring twice before the silky voice that crackled through the receiver sent shivers down his spine. He imagined this was what it felt like to call home, until Geto he never knew. 

“Dreamt of me, didn’t you, Satoru?”

He squeezed the deflated pillow in his lap. Geto always made his name sound like something so holy and special. He sighed in defeat, "Just—come."

“Okay. But first, you’re gonna tell me the part of me you’re craving the most?'

Following his obnoxious huff he opened his mouth to speak but Geto knew better, “No, no pointless ranting about the semantics. You know what I mean, don't you? You called me which means you want me, right now."

Gojo doesn’t bite his tongue like this with anyone else, instead he carefully nods in the dark. “That much is obvious, Suguru.”

Suguru swallowed at the suggestive lilt that overtook Gojo’s voice, his teeth burying into his lower lip. He inhaled so deeply it sounded like he was biting back a moan. Gojo grew hard in seconds. 

“So, my mind? My body? My soul? My touch?”

Gojo pinched the bridge of his nose, phone tucked between his shoulder as he gazed at the city before his window. “I didn't call for a philosophical conversation. I called to fuck, Suguru,” he bit, snappy as his cock throbbed in his baggy sweats. 

Geto clicked his tongue, “You still can't get off without me, huh?" He chuckled, a little mirthless. “Can’t, can you?”

He didn't need reminding.

“You…you know I can't,” he hissed. 

Geto’s eyes flickered shut, his head reclined against his pillow, imagining Gojo on his cock, perfect like he always was. He couldn't fuck anyone else, either. They were both cursed.

“Suguru?”

“Mm, yeah. I’m coming, okay." His voice was impossibly soft. Sending a lovesick herd of butterflies to attack Gojo’s usually composed stomach. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat. “I won’t.”

He laughed, his voice sweeter than sugar. “I know you won’t, I’ll see you soon, okay?" 

Gojo tsked at the fact he could hear Geto smiling, he didn't even need to see it. “Okay.”  

He showered, and then turned the lights down through the apartment so they wouldn’t be in complete darkness. Like they were a normal couple and not two lovers sneaking around behind closed doors. Just like in the beginning of all of this when they were too afraid to even touch each other again.

It feels like hours pass as he stares up at his ceiling, but it’s barely been one before Geto is knocking softly at his door. 

As soon as he opens it, Geto’s presence overwhelms his own, telling Gojo all he needs to know about where the night is going.

He’s barely cocked his brow before Geto murmurs, “Yeah? I need you too, did you forget?” 

He closes the door with a soft click, one large hand handling the sharp yet soft lines of Satoru’s pretty jaw. His lips work to slow Gojo down, to disarm him, to allow him to melt into his mouth like a soft centred candy.

“That's it,” Geto hums when he finally does, Gojo’s hands no longer clenched but wrapping loosely in Geto’s hair. “Let’s get you off the door, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gojo whimpers softly, letting Geto push him down onto the couch. His hands scour every part of Gojo’s chest and torso like a sculptor admiring his work. 

Then he grips his waist and pulls him in, kissing him like it's the first time in forever. It leaves them both breathless. When he pulls away he smoothes away the frown on Gojo’s lips with his thumb.

“Stop thinking,” Geto pants, “You don't need to when I'm here. I’m gonna give you what you want, yeah?”

He trails his finger down Gojo’s bare chest, kissing along his throat and teasing his teeth against his pulse point until he hisses. “Just wanna appreciate what’s in front of me a little,” Geto whispers, voice pitched dangerously low.

His fingers reach Gojo’s the throbbing erection visible in his sweatpants, his breath hitches until he inevitably moans out Geto’s name, breathy and needy. Geto daintily takes his chin between two fingers, smiling against his mouth. “I’m here to give you what you clearly need.”

“Shut up," Gojo rasps, tugging off Geto’s sweater and lurching to press his lips everywhere he can reach. His eyes flutter shut when he finally makes work of tugging all of Geto’s hair loose. The long feathery hair falls around his face and cages him in, tickling his throat. Geto laughs as he tries to bat it away, but his mouth goes dry when he sees the way his cerulean eyes are shining at him.

The sensation is so familiar—so like home it makes Gojo’s eyes prickle with tears. “Suguru,” he whispers, leaning close for a kiss. Geto indulges him immediately, their arms wrapping around each other, impossibly tight. “I wanted to see you,” he mewls.

Geto bucks his hips against Gojo’s experimentally, rutting his erection against Gojo’s until they break their kiss and Gojo’s tugging down both of their waistbands. He grins at the sight as he makes work of their pants.

 “What am I gonna do with you, huh? Not even a month and you’re this desperate.”

Gojo laughs, deep and elated. High on whatever Suguru’s saliva is made of. “Don’t act like you’ve ever ignored my call, Sugu,” he coos, grinning. 

Geto quickly closes the space, sliding his thumb into Gojo’s mouth. Shifting his hair to kiss his temple when he sucks obediently. “I won't, because I know I can't, Satoru.”

Gojo grins, continuing to tug away the clothing obstructing the access they want to each other the most. Geto cups his cheek as he does so, his eyes are tender but his voice is laid bare, filled with thick unfiltered lust. “Face of an angel, mouth of a I don't even know what…unfair is what it is,” he whispers.

“Unfair that I can't get enough of you, Satoru. No matter how much I try.” He sighs, “I was about to call you myself, tonight.”

Gojo smirks, throwing aside their remaining clothing. “Liar.” 

He switches their positions, and makes his way down Geto’s centre, kissing and licking without breaking from his eyes. “I’ll teach you something, about lying to me.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Go on then pretty thing,” Geto coos, watching Gojo’s cheeks flush violently at his words.

“Don’t act like I can’t take you, I am stronger, y’know.” He kisses and nips until Geto’s hands finally lay to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“I know you can take me. I’ve seen it. Not that it ever gets old. So give in and do what you’re dying to do.”

Gojo blushes even more ferociously, gripping the thick base of him. His tongue eagerly catches the sweet beads of arousal racing along the veins. Geto’s cock was so long and thick that only 

Gojo’s large hands managed to dwarf it.

He worked on him, carefully, licking and sucking and kissing on his cock, Geto cooed praises to him when he finally took him in his mouth. Gojo always managed to take his entire length, he was the best after all.

“Fuck Satoru, let me fuck you—dying to fuck you. Don’t let me cum!” He moaned, pulling Gojo’s mouth off his cock and delighting in the lewd strings of arousal and spit that broke and shone against his chin. 

“Already?”

“Satoru, you have no idea how fucking hot you look sucking me like that, it’s dangerous,” he purred, tugging him close. “You take it all like the good boy you really are.”

You’re nothing like me.

Gojo nodded, completely entranced and holding onto every word. Caging Geto below him with a lazy smile on his lips. This brief window was always so dangerous, the moment when Satoru’s eyes were glassy and half-lidded from arousal.

Their laughs rang through the apartment as they tripped over each other scrambling to Gojo’s bedroom. Grabbing for lube whilst their tongues practically probed the back of the others throats. 

It’s a quick working and arranging of their bodies, learnt and done so many times before.

It’s almost primal. The way Geto grunts, and Gojo moans just seconds behind, hips pulled up and arched impossibly. Geto’s large handprints leave indelible marks as he pumps his thick fingers in and out until Gojo’s whimpering incomprehensible nonsense. 

“Sugu, I’m ready, just fuckin~now, need it. Fuck me.” 

Geto tilts his face just to press a fond kiss to his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes just so he can enjoy every inch of his face. “I’m so lucky to get you like this, don’t think I don't know it.”

He presses another kiss to his cheek and he moans this time, simultaneously pressing the tip of himself at his entrance. “Make it up to me by fucking me,” Gojo chuckles, soon groaning at the stretch.

“God—fuck, you feel so good,” he drawls, turning to kiss Geto himself.

“Does it hurt?” Geto stammers, his voice too shaky to even speak. 

“No!”

Geto starts to move, rolling his hips as he sets a steady pace. “Y’know why? Because I’d never hurt you, Satoru.”

“Don’t,” he moans back, fists twisting the sheets under him as drool pools down the corners of his mouth. “Don’t, Sugu.”

“Y’know why?” He kisses his nape, fucking him even harder, his tip nudging that spot deliciously.

“Stop, Sugu,” he whimpers.

He drives himself deeper, gripping Gojo’s waist so much harder that he growls, “Stop this?”

“No, but, don’t.”

“I won’t, because I—I love you.”

It’s magical how Gojo comes all over the sheets from the words. Just like that. 

Geto stops, his cheeks burning so badly he hides his face with the back of his hand. Gojo shoves his face into his pillow, refusing to meet his eyes. 

He grins at the red tips of Gojo’s ears, grinding his hips against his until he moans once more. Passionate and loving. “That's what you needed to hear to feel good, Satoru? That I love you, because I do. I really do, you feel that, yeah?”

Gojo’s incapable of words, he can't think. He can’t even talk when Geto is fucking him like this. 

Geto moans, his lips against the shell of Gojo’s air as he threads their hands together. “I've always loved you, no one loves you like I do.” 

“No one ever has,” Gojo hisses. “But you, but you…” 

You just had to betray me.

“Next time m’ gonna fuck you till you cry for what you just—did!”

Geto grips the base of Gojo’s cock, jerking as he fills him impossibly full, until he touches the spot again that has tears of pleasure streaming down Gojo’s cheeks.

“Who’s crying now?”

He suddenly pulls out, missing the garbled sounds of his white-haired lover he tugs him, manhandling him until he’s pliant and on his lap like a tamed cat. “Watch yourself, or me. Watch me make the strongest crumble, give yourself to me Satoru.”

“I already give you everything,” Gojo groans, his hips quickly meeting Geto’s thrusts. 

“Give yourself to me until there's nothing left.”

Gojo doesn't even recognise himself, so he hides his erotic expressions in Geto’s neck, kissing and biting as Geto thrusts inside him until he’s shooting his cum all over the mirror this time.

Geto’s hands just look so perfectly placed when they’re tightened on his waist and pulling him off and on his cock like this. 

“Let it out, let it out. You’ve always been insatiable huh? How much more do you have in you? I know I could fuck you all night and you’d still want more.”

“I fucking hate you,” Gojo groans, repositioning them both so he can ride him. Geto moans as he watches Gojo eagerly stuff him back inside in their reflection.

“So you think you can face me?” Geto grins, cupping the backs of his thighs and fucking him even harder. Gojo can't even keep his eyes open, his lips parted, his cheeks no longer pink but instead replaced with an aggressive red. 

“No one takes me like you, Satoru. Always so fucking good for me, so perfect. You were made for me.”

We were made for each other.

Gojo fights back his moans until he can’t, not when Geto is saying all of the things that make him tick. “I was,” he whines back. “Wasn’t I?”

“You feel so fuckin good on my cock, no one feels like you, fuuck.” His voice cracks, his teeth drawing blood from his lower lip. “I’m gonna cum in you, fuck!”

“Sugu!” 

“Toru! My, my, my—love.” He shakes, groaning with his lips messily clashing with Gojo’s as he fills him deep.

Gojo whimpers into the corner of his mouth, the pet name making his entire body burn. “My love, my one and only. Satoru I wish, I wish…”

He’s breathless and spent but he’s pinning Gojo down again. Pushing him until his back meets his pillows as he slides in again. “I love you, Satoru. Tell me. Tell me you love me too.”

Gojo’s eyes well up, his teeth gritting as Geto fucks them both into overstimulation. “I won’t, I won't, don't you dare. Can’t ask me that.”

“No,” Geto leans in until their noses are touching, 

his hair caging Gojo in, luring him under his siren-like spell.

“Tell me, you used to tell me all the time.” 

“I used to say a lot of things.” Gojo moans, kissing him fiercely. “But I won’t say that, Sugu.”

“Then I’ll never see you again.” 

He yanks Gojo upright until he’s straddling him once more, gripping his hips in place and pounding into him until he falls wordlessly into his chest. Clawing and moaning from the overload of pleasure. “Fuck you, saying that shit,” he groans. “And then fucking me like this.” 

“You like to be fucked like this, you fucking slut.”

Gojo silences his obscene sounds into Geto’s shoulder. Moaning even more when Geto chuckles at how much of a mess he’s become.

“Give and take, we’ve always been give and take. You can fuck me like this next time, I’ll be anything and everything for you whenever you want. Just say it.”

“I can’t!”

Gojo can’t take this anymore, it’s too much, it all feels too good. He overpowers Geto with little effort, but Geto lets him do it anyway.

He shoves him onto the floor, and grips his cock, his smirk mischievous when Geto readies his tongue for it. He lets him slap it against his mouth before he finally takes it. Grinning around his cock as he takes the entire length of it.

“There’s the real Suguru, the exemplary student. The good boy who’s about to shut up and suck me.”

Despite his harsh tone he cups Geto’s face, ignoring the way his chest is heaving and still clawing for breath. No one makes his heart beat like this. He hates how he finds his heart going into a frenzy at anyone with long black hair until he realises it's not his precious Suguru. Not that he'd even tell him that.

“You always did look better with my cock down your throat.”

Geto hums amusedly, choking on Gojo’s cock as he does so.

“I know you love it too, helps you remember your place, doesn’t it? Thats it, fuck!” 

He grips Geto’s hair with abandon, fucking his face until ropes of his come spurt down his throat. “Take it all, had to shut you the fuck up, l hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

As soon as his breaths calm, Geto pins the cocky man below him once more. He has other plans. He straddles his chest, thumb running across his lip. He’s breathless too, voice spent from being fucked so mercilessly. 

“Could have tapped out,” Gojo speaks softly, that raptured submission returning as he gazes in awe at the beautiful man above him.

He coughs before he speaks, “I’d never do that, but you are going to pay for it. This pretty face will, anyway.” He slaps his cheek gently before he starts to jerk himself above his face. 

Gojo tries to feign frustration but he's turned on beyond belief, cock hard again. It’s so filthy, but it always was, they only ever did this when they were drunk or so horny for each other it turned them into animals.

Geto always touched himself so beautifully, so erotically. 

“Because I love seeing your perfect fucking face, painted with my cum. Makes you remember your place.” 

Gojo’s hands smoothed along his thighs, in wordless appreciation for the beauty before him.

“That the only man to do this will only ever be me, your one and only, yeah?”

His breath stutters as his orgasm approaches. Gojo finally nods, mouthing a feeble ‘I love you’ before offering his tongue. He groans as Geto’s come practically drowns him and soaks his tongue.

Gojo tries to swallow every drop, but before he knows it Geto’s dragging him toward the damned mirror again. He attempts to fight his grasp for a matter of seconds but he gives up, he doesn't care anymore. 

“The fucking strongest belongs to me. The only one that can handle you—is me. Look at yourself.”

He knows he's right even if he hates it.

“You see us? We’re yin, and yang. Me and you, we’re perfect together,” Geto pants, shifting the hair from Gojo’s eyes as if to emphasise his point, his own hair falling over Gojo’s shoulders.

The city lights shine through Gojo’s white hair, and over Geto’s illuminating the thick black silk falling over his shoulders 

“You’re mine, Satoru, and I love you. I will forever.”

Gojo cocks his brow but he leans closer, “You’re so vocal today, the good sex got you this sentimental.” He sighs, his grin full of play. “Might have to kick you out man.”

They find themselves wrestling until Geto is kissing Gojo’s forehead once more, his arms pinned and a stupid lovesick grin on his face.

“Listen, okay? I told you, I was about to call you too tonight. I missed you.”

Gojo laughs softly, leaning up to press a kiss to Geto’s cheek before speaking into his ear, “God, you’re embarrassing, aren’t ya?”

Geto glares at him before giving in. He pulls Gojo against his chest, grinning when he doesn’t resist. He curls around him like a cat, and Geto wraps them into a cocoon of blankets. 

Gojo falls asleep, fast. White lashes fluttering ever so often, lulled by the warmth and safety of Geto’s embrace. “Please don’t leave me,” he mutters, twitching in some kind of bad dream. 

Geto leans and kisses his nose, reaching for his phone to send a text home. 

Won’t be home for a few days. Only call if it’s an emergency.

“I wish I didnt ever have to, my love.” he nuzzles himself into Gojo’s neck and kisses, sucking until he whines in his sleep. He grins against the mark that flushes in its wake and he squeezes him that little bit tighter until Gojo can't help but whimper softly, even in his deep sleep. 

And then finally, he mutters the words. “Suguruu? Finally,” his mouth forms a little smile, “welcome home…I love you.”

“I love you too.”

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 2 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: language, slicing one’s palm for a magical ritual?, casual beer drinking wc: 5.9k

It’s common for this first class of yours that some of your students arrive before you do, and today is no exception. Something is different today - most of the students are crowded around one girl’s desk, eyes on her phone screen.

You can’t help but peek up at them curiously as you set up your materials at the front of the room, signing into your laptop with one hand and digging in your bag for a stack of hand-outs with the other. 

Luckily, your curiosity is short-lived. 

“Have you heard about this, Professor?” one of the boys asks you, glancing up from the phone. “There have been a series of Infracti attacks across the continent.”

You feel yourself frown. “That’s news? There have always been Infracti that break the laws… just like there will always be some humans who break laws.”

“It isn’t just random hunters,” someone else tells you, pulling out their own phone to, you assume, pull up the article. “It seems like actual, orchestrated attacks - groups of Infracti at a time, and they leave survivors. They aren’t hunting, just killing. There’s footage.”

“It seems like a pattern,” someone else jumps in, turning their screen towards you. A video plays, but you’re too far away to see much on the dark, grainy video. “The news outlets are reporting there’s reason to believe the Scores are behind it.”

You press your lips together. It’s not the first time in your life you’ve seen a scare like this. Any time the general human public seems to remember that Infracti might hunt them - laws be damned - the news stations fan the flames of a little widespread panic. 

“It’s much more likely that one little group of Infracti have forgotten their manners,” you say, trying to sound mild. “They’ll be arrested. Infracticus doesn’t want trouble with us, I assure you. Or with the ruling family. They were at war for centuries - none of them want to return to that.”

The college kids look at their phones again, clearly unconvinced.

“Remember the unit we did last month?” you remind them, starting to head around your desk to pass out the handout you’d located in the depths of your bag. “When the last war between the Scorns and Ruins ended - when the protection laws were put in place - both houses were barely left standing.”

“I don’t know, Professor,” the first girl says, shaking her head. “If we’ve learned anything, it’s that Infracti history is nothing but wars for power and control of the kingdom. These moments of peace, they don’t last.”

“There were never treaties and laws in place,” you point out. “The human world was never a player in the game. Things are different now.”

She shakes her head again. “History repeats itself,” she intones.

You start to call everyone’s attention, ready to move on and into the planned lecture. But even as you speak, your stomach swirls, unsettled. Namjoon’s words in Dr. Kim’s office playback through your head: we may be walking into the start of Infracti civil war.

“Alright, so, today we’re going to be looking at some Infracti mythology,” you tell the class, as the last few stragglers find empty desks near the sides of the room. It’s a relatively small classroom, not a full lecture hall, for which you’re grateful. “You’re all familiar with the story The Hunter and the Highest?”

Most of the class nods, though a few look uncertain.

“Whether you know it by name or not,” you explain, pacing the front of the room slowly, “you know the story. It’s classic - done and redone through the history of pop culture. Can anyone give us a quick summary?”

“A vampire and a witch fall in love, and all their problems go away,” someone in the third row calls dryly.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “Okay, a little less quickly than that, maybe.”

Someone near the front raises his hand. “Isn’t it a fairy tale? Like, for kids?”

You waggle your head around. “It’s certainly been adapted in that way. But the original text predates all of those adaptations by centuries.”

“It’s about how the Infracti became civilized,” someone else offers.

“That’s closer,” you agree, pointing at them appreciatively. “In the story, Infracti were simply monsters called hunters. A magic-wielder, hunted herself by humans, finds an Infracti and gifts him with humanity. So, it is a tale meant to explain how Infracti changed from the beasts of old to the magical being we recognize today.”

You start passing out texts and give directions. “There are three versions of the myth in this packet,” you explain. “I want you to look through and find the differences, and from there we’ll discuss why those changes may have been made in the retelling.”

The college kids read in silence for a few minutes before the girl with the cell phone videos earlier raises her hand. “The second version calls the magic-wielder priestess,” she provides.

You write this on the whiteboard. “Great find. You’ll notice that the magic-wielders are given a few different names. Priestess is one. Highest is most common, which refers to a high priestess. In that version of the myth, the priestess who found the hunter was the leader, the strongest.”

“The last version calls her witch,” someone adds.

You smile, happy that they cottoned on. “And what do you notice about the chronology of that?”

They look at each other, and then at their pages. You wait.

“Witch is more recent?” someone suggests.

“You got it,” you affirm. “As time went on, as the stories got closer to now, the terminology shifted away from the respectful priestess and into a feared witch. Great observation. What else do you notice?”

“They only fall in love in the newest one,” someone points out. “In both of the early versions the priestess offers a trade.”

“That’s right,” you nod, adding this to the whiteboard. “The older versions of the myth show the magic-wielder trading humanity to the hunter in exchange for his protection against the humans who cast her out. Only in the more recent renditions is it simplified into a love story.”

You slide into the history part of the lesson - the truths that led to the folktale. It’s impossible for anyone to really know what happened in these ancient times - how the Infracti and the magic-wielders really came together for the first time. Regardless, it’s indisputable that from some point in history the two beings had a natural alliance, a symbiotic relationship. The Infracti formed the great houses, established the monarchy, and allowed the magic-wielders to live and practice safely on their land.

Of course, as your students know, the monarchy was only peaceful for a short time. It wasn’t long before the newly civilized Infracti did what civilizations always do: let greed lead them to war. 

–

You sleepwalk through your last two classes, texting Namjoon as promised as soon as you’re finished and solidifying plans to meet for a meal near campus. 

He’s there before you, standing absently on the sidewalk, scrolling on his phone with one hand in his jeans pocket.

“Hi,” you say, approaching. He looks up, clicking the screen on his phone off and sliding it into his pocket before reaching out to shake your hand. “I wanted to introduce myself a little better. I’m -”

“I know who you are,” he says with a smile. “You have a bit of a reputation. Your jaunts around the world with my grandfather are well-documented for the curse-breaking community.”

“Your grandfather?” you echo, and then realize you should have connected those dots. You’d read his business card - Kim Namjoon. “Ah, I should have realized. So, you’re continuing the family business?”

He laughs at this, leading you inside and asking the seating hostess to place you at one of the tables outside. 

You each order a drink and settle in before he finally answers you. “In a way, yes,” he admits. “I was just always around that stuff growing up. I thought it was interesting. Following that interest into college seemed natural, and the fact that it pleased Grandfather so much to have me follow in his footsteps… that was a bonus, of course.”

“That must be nice,” you muse, not really meaning to reveal so much as you add, “My family thinks I have a death wish. They don’t think anything I study has real value.”

Namjoon considers this as the waiter places his beer in front of him, the glass covered in heavy condensation. “That’s sad,” he says finally. “Curse-breaking literally saves lives.”

You shrug. “They don’t see it that way. Neither do I, really. Curse-breaking is just… calculations.” 

He smiles wryly. “I like to think of it as following a recipe.”

You laugh a little. “Without the wiggle room. Imagine following steps like a pinch when working a counter-curse? We’d blow ourselves up.”

He laughs too. “Okay, so it’s not cooking, it’s baking. The measurements matter.” 

You lapse into companionable silence, sipping your drinks, watching the late afternoon slip into evening bit by bit. 

“I need to admit,” he says finally, speaking out into the twilight instead of at you, “I’m really not sure about this.”

You nod. “It’s a lot.”

“Grandfather said you have a lot of knowledge on the Infracti,” Namjoon says thoughtfully.

You nod. “I do. But studying something in books and theory is not the same as walking among them. And the stakes are high.” You sigh. “He’s right… it’s dangerous.”

“Great payout though,” Namjoon mutters, as if he didn’t necessarily mean for you to hear it. And he’s right. The living members of the royal family have been around for centuries. You don’t live that long without amassing a fortune. Whatever reward the King of Ruin has promised, you feel sure you’d never have to work again.

Though you know you still would. 

“That’s true,” you agree quietly. But you’re thinking about the prince, and the curse. Of course the pay-out speaks to you - you have bills to pay, after all. And you’re only human. But the thing about what you do is… well, you love it. 

You love curse-breaking. You love the puzzle, the pieces clicking together just right as you uncover the components of the original curse one at a time. You love the thrill of building your own magic to push back with, love the sizzle of power beneath your undeserving, human fingertips as you cast something meant to strip away someone else’s hatred and leave calm in its place. 

You love having something you’re good at, something you can claim as yours, something to enter a room before you do and demand a sliver of respect you’d never experienced before.

Not to mention… you’ve studied the Infracti and their history and culture for your entire adult life. To get to go there and see it all in person, with the promise of protection, is something beyond your wildest dreams. Infracti can come here if they go through the proper channels - for business or for pleasure, as long as that pleasure isn’t hunting.

But humans typically don’t go to Infracticus. It’s simply too dangerous - statistically, there’s bound to be some rule-breakers, and you’d be walking into their home. This is an opportunity that has never come before, for anyone you’ve ever known in the field.

You think again of your conversation in Dr. Kim’s office earlier. You’d been chosen not for your talent as much as your anonymity. Success on this case would bring you prestige among the curse-breaking community. You’d make a name for yourself, by yourself - not attached to Dr. Kim, overshadowed and forgotten.

“I think I want to do it,” you murmur, and when Namjoon whips around to look at you, wide-eyed, you realize you’ve spoken out loud. 

“You should sleep on it,” he says, repeating his grandfather’s words from earlier. “Y/N, you could be walking to your death.”

“That’s the case every time,” you point out. “Besides, the royal family obviously wants us to succeed - they want the prince to be healed. I’m sure they’ll use their wealth and power to keep us safe. If anything happens to us, he’s screwed, right?”

Namjoon shakes his head, runs his hand down his face. “This is insane,” he intones. “This is insane. We can’t just waltz into Infracticus and pretend we belong there -”

“Again,” you say, more firmly this time, more and more sure of your decision by the second. “They want our success. They’re going to do everything they can to mitigate the risk of our cover being blown, right? They have more to gain from our success than we do. Seriously, think about it.”

“Oh, I’m thinking,” Namjoon mutters.

“I’m going to tell him yes,” you say decisively. “No pressure. Make the decision that’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mutters, swirling the last dregs of his beer around the bottom of his glass, voice glum. “Yeah. I’m… I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

–

Your first class the next day is early; you clutch a travel mug of coffee and watch the city pass by outside your window with barely-open eyes. You’re even earlier than normal, because you want to stop by Dr. Kim’s office on your way and give him your answer.

His door is open when you arrive, and you knock, though normally you’d just stroll in.

He looks up, startled by the noise, then softens when he sees it’s you. You feel a rush of affection for the old man; over the last ten years of your life, he’s been more of a father to you than your own family. 

“I want to go,” you tell him, proud when your voice comes out sure and steady, when inside you feel uncertain and wobbly. 

Dr. Kim takes off his glasses and places them on the desk before him, rubs at his eyes, and replaces them. “I don’t know how to feel,” he finally admits with a chuckle. “I both want you to accept, and don’t. On one hand, I know you’ll handle the situation, and I’ll be so proud… but the danger…”

“I trust the royal family,” you say evenly. “If they say they’ll give us protection, I’ve got to trust that. I can’t not help - not if I’m their best shot at success.”

Dr. Kim shakes his head, looking out his window at the rising sun to the east. “I suppose I trust the royal family, too,” he muses, “or I wouldn’t have even told you about the case.” He turns to look at you again, seems to brace himself, snap into business-mode. “Very well. When do your classes end today? We have many things to debrief before you leave.”

–

You spend almost six hours in Dr. Kim’s office after giving your last lecture of the day - so long, in fact, that he orders delivery and you sneak bites of dinner between textbook pages as he helps you prepare for the trip as best he can. 

You review Infracti niceties - greetings, things that are considered polite, habits, mannerisms. You also get a crash course in current affairs, learning everything the human public knows about the current royal family. 

“Prince Taehyung was born Infracti, not turned from human,” Dr. Kim explains. “His bloodline - the bloodline of the royal family, of the Ruins - goes back… beyond written history. His powers will be strong, and so will his influence.”

“Did they tell you any details about the curse? What symptoms he’s exhibiting?” you ask curiously, flipping the page of the book you have open on the table.

Dr. Kim nods slowly, thinking as he speaks. “It appears he loses his sense of self between midnight and dawn each day,” he explains. “Becomes… the basest of his kind. They’ve been keeping him quite literally locked up each night to stop him from harming others.”

You ponder this, unable to get Namjoon’s words from yesterday out of your head. “I suppose if you wanted to dethrone a prince… turning him into a murderer might be one way.”

“Our job isn’t to solve who caused it,” Dr. Kim reminds you gently. “Just to cure him.”

You spend the rest of the night poring over brittle texts, taking pages and pages of notes on similar cases, curses that only show up in the afflicted at certain times, curses that cause violence or the desire to do harm, curses that make you lose sight of who you are. You write down the causes, the layers that may be present. You write down how they’ve been busted in the past, tactics that have proven successful.

You write down a list of everything you may need to pack. 

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you’re startled by a light knock on the office door. You look up from where you’re scrawling shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, bar soap, to find Namjoon standing in the doorway.

He greets his grandfather warmly and gives you a polite nod hello.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to tell me you want to stay home,” Dr. Kim says dryly, and Namjoon gives him a sheepish smile.

“No,” he admits. “I’m going to go.”

Dr. Kim sighs, nodding like he expected this all along. “Very well,” he says, waving a hand at the papers you have spread across the table. “Come take a picture of the packing list. I’ll escort you two to the Ostium tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”

The Ostium is a temple built from sand-colored stone, guarded by carved stone lions, fangs bared in a roar. You’ve been inside twice before, for your studies. You’ve never seen it in action. Right now it’s too dark to see the statues clearly - it’s hours before dawn. You napped more than slept, and it was fitful at best. 

You pull a wheeled carry-on size piece of black luggage, and you see a bulging duffle bag hanging across Namjoon’s back. Dr. Kim comes empty-handed and long-faced. You’re surprised that someone is there, now, when it is technically the middle of the night. But, then again, your arrival was scheduled - you are invited, expected. 

The woman who stands before the altar at the rear of the small room is obviously an Infracti. She doesn’t hide behind mortal eyes, as she could if she chose to. Instead of whites, her eyes are fathomless pools of black, swimming and shifting like inky ocean depths. There’s an unearthly quickness to the movements her body makes, as if she has to remind herself to move slowly and forgets each time a move is instinctual instead of deliberate. 

“Welcome,” she says. There’s a heaviness to her accent, a give-away that whoever she is, she’s old enough to have spoken the Infracti’s original language. “What business?”

“Good morning,” Dr. Kim says, and all three of you give a quick nod hello. “I am Dr. Kim from the university.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding in recognition. “We were expecting you. Welcome. You’ve come with the curse-breakers?”

Dr. Kim opens his hand, indicating both you and Namjoon. He introduces you both by name and she inclines her head in greeting. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says to you both. “Do you know how to cross?” 

Your pulse sings; you don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous about anything in your life. 

“In theory,” you tell her.

She gives you a tight half-smile. “It’s quite straight-forward. In that case, you can say goodbye here and I’ll escort you through.”

You’re surprised when Dr. Kim wraps you in a hug. “Please be careful,” he begs as he releases you and turns his attention to his grandson. “Don’t let your guard down. Do the job, and leave. Watch each other’s backs. Don’t get tangled up in anything besides breaking the curse.”

You exchange an uneasy look with Namjoon over Dr. Kim’s shoulders. In over ten years of your professional relationship, you’ve never seen a display of emotion from him. Not even when you and he were in the thick of the rainforest, faced with a nearly impossible puzzle and never-ending, bone-chilling rain.

The Infracti woman opens a door to the left of the altar, sliding a slab of stone sideways with just the wave of her hand. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was simply a sensor. You step through, Namjoon behind you, and she pauses in the doorway. The door slides shut behind you, leaving you alone. 

A smaller altar, made of the same sand-colored stone, sits unassuming in the center of the tiny room. A curved blade, no longer than your own hand, with a bejeweled hilt sits atop the stone. 

You give Namjoon a grim, sideway look. “You know what to do?” you ask him.

He nods, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says.

“It’s archaic,” you grumble.

“They didn’t want humans landing there by accident.”

“I get it,” you admit. “But still.”

He lets out a second slow breath between his teeth, shaking his hands a little as if to rid them of nerves. You feel yourself slide into your professional self.

“You want me to do it?” you offer. 

He considers this, then nods. You each stand on one side of the altar, and you lift the blade. No sense in delaying it, you slice through the palm of your hand quickly, hissing between your teeth as you do. Namjoon is ready, palm extended.

“Sorry,” you mutter in advance, and then imitate the cut across his large palm. He makes no noise, but clenches his jaw as you set the blade back where it came from.

“Right to left, not left to right,” you remind him quietly. “At the same time. You ready?”

He nods, curt, and then in one motion you each wipe your bloody palms across the stone - the red smears creating parallel arcs, a cave painting, an ancient expression of your will.

To your left, there is no sound or sign of motion. But the stone wall that closed you in is no longer there.

Now you’re the one battling nerves. You feel your hands shake at your sides, and you fumble for the handle of your luggage. Namjoon comes up beside you and places a gentle hand at the top of your back.

“We’ve got this,” he assures you. 

You nod, looking up over your shoulder to meet his gaze. “Yeah,” you say, though you’re not sure if it’s a lie. “Okay. Let’s go.”

–

You did not go down, and yet you pass through the door and stand in an Ostium close to the grand palace of Infracticus, the underworld inhabited by all of the Infracti - the Ruins, the Scorns, the Leaves, and all the families whose names didn’t earn a spot in history books, but who have been here all along regardless.

You step into the tiny atrium, pulling your little suitcase behind you. An Infracti man greets you, asking to see identification. As if the wrong person could accidentally slice their hand and magically enter. 

“There’s transportation waiting just outside,” the Infracti tells you after he verifies that you are indeed the humans he was waiting for. “We ask that you wear these to conceal your identities.” He hands you each a hooded cloak. You bite back a joke that it’s the vampires who are supposed to wear these, not the humans, but the tiny smile plays across your face unchecked. 

The Infracti must understand your expression, because he leans in a little and lowers his voice. “Please understand that we were charged with keeping your presence an absolute secret. This is why we’ve scheduled your arrival for the middle of the night, why we are trying to hide your faces from anyone who may be out and about at odd hours. This is for your own safety as much as anything.”

You wonder at the truth of this. What is the priority - protecting you, as a human? Or protecting the prince’s secret? 

Outside, as promised, you’re greeted with the sight of a carriage, like it’s dropped straight out of a historical drama. It’s hard to see, as dark as it is, but you glimpse swirling gold patterns along the trim. Two Infracti men jump down from the front and take the luggage right from your hands. Wordlessly, then move around to the back of the carriage and begin placing your bag and Namjoon’s into thick trunks with ornate carvings that seem to match the carriage’s.

“Have we gone back in time?” Namjoon asks you, barely audible.

Of course the Infracti can hear him. One of them turns, black eyes narrowing. “There is no need for your technology here,” he says flatly. “Our command of magic does more than your electricity and internet ever will.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Namjoon says, a little stilted. The Infracti doesn’t reply, face blank and unreadable, and shakes the trunks once to make sure they’re latched properly before walking back towards the front of the carriage. You shoot Namjoon a sympathetic look.

Most humans back home can go their whole lives without really interacting with magic or magical people. Of course it’s there, but people with no relationship to magic tend to not notice - their minds explain away the magical. If you hadn’t been interested in Infracticus, you wouldn’t have learned about their magical abilities, wouldn’t have followed that interest into introductory courses on curses and curse-breaking that would end up shaping your life. 

It’s a shame, though. Like you, non-magical people can still use and manipulate the universe’s magic if they learn how. The skill is called borrowing - and while there’s theory and procedure behind it, anyone should be able to borrow once they know how. You’ve never understood why so many of your kind turn away from this possibility. It wasn’t easy for you to learn, necessarily, but it wasn’t impossible either. 

“We’ll be at the palace in about twenty minutes,” the remaining Infracti, the shorter of the two, tells you. “You’ll be entering through a lower-level entrance - not the main doors. From there, we’ll take you directly to your chambers.”

“Okay,” you say. “We understand. Then once we’re there - then what? Will we be meeting with the prince?”

“You’ll have some time to unpack and sleep more, if you wish,” he says, tilting his head as he considers this. “I was told that you have an audience with the royal family before the midday meal. You will be escorted there by your guards.”

You and Namjoon both murmur your understanding, and the Infracti reaches to open the carriage’s side door, indicating that you should enter. 

As you step closer, you find yourself freezing in place, eyes going wide as you notice what’s pulling the carriage. The hooves of their front two legs paw at the ground restlessly, as they toss their cerulean manes. Their eyes swirl black like the Infracti who domesticated them. Their muscular bodies taper to powerful, curled fishtails that float about a foot above the ground, held aloft by their own magic. 

“Are they… sea-goats?” Namjoon asks next to you, inching closer to get a better look.

“They’re called amarisca,” you whisper, so awed you can barely speak. Something else you’d only read about in books, something else that had felt like fairy tales, myths, not something that would ever appear in front of you, so close that you can smell their animal musk, the unpleasant tang of their saliva as they chomp at their bits. “They’re not half goat, they’re half horse - look at the faces.”

You’re mesmerized, eyes scanning the beautiful animals, examining their wild eyes, the hues of blue in their fur, the tough scales of their rippling tails. The Infracti holding the door open clears his throat impatiently. 

“Sorry,” you say, and Namjoon moves to the carriage. You stay one more second, entranced, before hurrying to follow him into the carriage. The Infracti closes the door behind you and moments later the carriage jerks into motion, carrying you towards the palace of Infracticus. 

–

You don’t speak in the carriage; you’re exhausted, you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated. It’s all too much, and none of it meshes well together. You don’t think you could carry on a rational conversation with Namjoon if your life depended on it. Luckily, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. You don’t know if he sleeps, but by the time the carriage finally comes to a stop, you haven’t spoken at all. 

The door is opened by the same man who closed it, and he holds out a hand to help you down, which strikes you as nice. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. It’s still very dark, and the taller Infracti hurries you through an opened stone door. The other Infracti follows, carrying the trunk holding yours and Namjoon’s belongings as if it weighs nothing.

To him, it must not. 

The two men lead you deeper into the palace, wordlessly stalking down corridors, around corners, down nondescript, stone stairways. 

After you’ve walked for what feels like quite a while - long enough that you are thoroughly lost - they stop before two decorated doors. The doors go from floor to ceiling, ornate patterns carved into the thick wood. The golden handles gleam in the low lighting. 

Two more Infracti - one a woman, one a man - stand guard, flanking the doorway, their backs ramrod straight, their black eyes fathomless. 

“You’ll have security at your doors at all times,” the shorter Infracti tells the two of you quietly. “This is Satuel and Dansoo.” He indicates the woman, then the man respectively as he says their names. “As well as keeping you safe in your quarters, they’ll also be your point of contact should you have any requests.”

“The concierge,” you joke, and you’re cowed into silence when four sets of emotionless black eyes turn to you, silently. Beside you, Namjoon shifts just slightly away, as if to distance himself from the embarrassment. Traitor. 

Satuel and Dansoo move to pull the doors open, and you enter, letting them fall closed behind Namjoon, who takes up the rear. The guards stay in the corridor, keeping the monsters out. Or, at least, the bad ones. 

You look around the main room. Everything drips in deep jewel tones and gold plating. Even the furniture seems too expensive to be real, too expensive to touch. Two couches and a wingback chair circle a low table, all of which sit beside a large heath with a roaring fire. Behind the couches is a high table with two wooden chairs - an eating area, you think. The far wall sports a water feature - water trickling down the wall and ending in a peaceful fountain, rich with floating plants.

You come back to yourself when Namjoon nudges your elbow, shooting you an apologetic look that seems to say, sorry, but I had to. 

“Your personal rooms are this way,” the Infracti is saying, in a tone like perhaps he is repeating himself. “You’ll find space for sleeping and bathing, as well as a small study.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking around. “This is beautiful.”

He bows his head at this, pleased. “If there’s anything you need, just inform one of your guards - they’ll see it done. For meals, if you have any particular preferences, you can tell the staff and it will be prepared for you, going forward.” 

This is wild, you think. This must be a fucking dream. It feels like you’re on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, the kind you would never be able to afford in real life. The only catch is that everyone at this destination has the ability and natural instinct to want to eat you. 

“Thank you, that’s very considerate,” Namjoon says to your right, and once again you’re flooded with relief that he’s here with you, that one of you can be normal.

The two Infracti start to make their way towards the doors, prepared to leave you alone. “Someone will fetch you before your audience with the royal family,” the spokesperson tells you. He indicates what time you should be ready, and they slip from the doors, leaving you and Namjoon alone. 

Your wounded hand drips onto the floor. You’d forgotten about it - in the Ostium, in the carriage, in your new rooms. But now, in the quiet, you remember that you’d paid in blood to enter this dream.

“Do you think it’s hard for them?” Namjoon asks, eyeing his own bloody palm. “To resist?”

You leave your suitcase in the middle of the open room and start poking around for a bathroom. “It might not be hard,” you call over your shoulder to him. “If they’ve followed the protection laws, then they may have never hunted a human in their entire lives. But I’m sure they notice. I think it’d be like walking past a bakery and being like, damn, those rolls smell good, but you don’t break the window and murder the rolls, you know?”

Namjoon laughs. “I guess that’s true. If you want one bad enough, you go in and buy it.”

“Exactly,” you say, a bit of triumph in your voice as you find a bathroom. You wash your hand, letting the blood rinse down the drain, and then return to the main room, kicking over your suitcase and unzipping it, rummaging for a t-shirt you can use as a bandage. 

“Go wash that,” you instruct. “I’ll rip this and we can share it.”

“My hero,” he says dryly, and disappears into what you assume is a mirror-image of your own bedroom and bathroom. 

The Infracti who’d brought you here had recommended that you get some more sleep, and you know it’s a good idea after the barely-three-hours you’d logged last night. But you’re too anxious and keyed up to even hold still, let alone rest. Instead, you spend some time unpacking - putting your clothing and toiletries away, and then setting up books and paper in the small office. By the time it occurs to you that you might want to clean yourself up before being presented to the royal family, it’s too late. 

This time, your guards escort you. You walk in silence, full of nerves. You want to try to chat with the guards, pepper them with questions, but you get the idea that they aren’t meant to be too friendly with you. 

When you reach the throne room, the guards that are already in place move over, making room for yours. They stand, straight-backed and stoic, and the woman - Satuel - lifts a hand to show that you should enter. 

You take a shuddering breath and look sideways at Namjoon. His face has gone a funny color, and his jaw juts slightly as he clenches it.

“We’ll be fine,” you tell him quietly. “Shake off the nerves. Let’s go be professionals.”

He looks at you like you’re a little crazy. Maybe you are. “No one’s ever done this,” he says a bit hollowly. “You know that, right?”

“Which part?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He laughs under his breath and starts to move forward through the decorated doorway and into the empty, echoing throne room. 

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thank you so much for reading!!! i promise taehyung is IN the next chapter lmaooo :') i hope you liked this one and you can expect things to start moving very soon!!

[byechristopher]

WITH YOU.

– Crhis Sturniolo angst (happy ending).

chris x f!reader.

Author's note: It's been so long since I've written something and I am s o r r y but I will never stop loving 'angst'. So you have to suffer with me too. It's l o n g and I haven't checked for any typos, so if I do have any, excusez-moi.

Warnings: Depression, mood swings, Chris is smoking, could be triggering to some, please do not read if it could affect you. ♡

Summary: Chris is so obsessed with you that he suggests you should break up for a bit now that he's leaving to study abroad (just the thought of other people being around you while he can't, seemed impossible to him). When he does, he realises what a mistake that was.

—

I stare down at my phone for a little bit and the screen goes off a few seconds later. I do not know how to feel or what to do, but I do know a small tear just runs down my cheek. Matt just called me – he said that Chris hasn't left his room in days; they're worried.

"Chris, are you serious?" I can feel my chest getting heavier with every second that passes.

"What the hell do you want me to think? What else is there to do?!" he explodes – his hands are buried in his hair and he gets up from the bed, "it's not easy for me either, but seriously! I can't fucking stand the thought of you being away from me.. I just can't do it. I will go crazy." he doesn't stay in place, he keeps moving anxiously, "what if.. someone flirts with you, what if you forget me while I'm away, so many what ifs – I just can't do this, I'm already fucking obsessed with you."

"Well, same goes for me, Chris! What are you saying then? We should just break up because you decided you wanted to study abroad?" I get up from the bed as well and I see him turning his back to me, his hands pressed against the wall in front of him.

"I didn't just 'decide' to fucking leave you! You know it's always been my dream to leave this goddamn place and study abroad!" he's almost screaming now and I want to hit the walls, I want to kick the doors, I want to grab him and never let him leave.

Instead, I grab his stuff and put them in his backpack, not being able to see clearly from all the tears that threaten to leave my eyes.

"What are you doing?" he sounds a little calmer now but I can feel my skin burning from all the anger, the sadness, everything all at once.

"Leave." is all I say before I throw his backpack outside my room and I turn around, not wanting to see him actually leave.

"Babe–" he starts but I quickly turn around, "leave!" I am shouting now.

Before he can say anything, I push him outside of my room and close the door behind him. And then, I break down. The heaviest weight is on my chest and it makes it so, so hard to breathe. The tears fully blurry my vision now and I almost pass out from how hard I am crying.

Two weeks have passed after that incident and yet, I can still feel that weight on my chest, let alone now.. after Matt's call. We did break up but that doesn't mean I automatically stop caring about him. I will always love him, whether he is in my life or not.

I start getting worried so I don't waste any time – I grab my phone and my bag, and with that, I quickly leave to go to Chris' house. While I'm in the car, I can't stop crying, Matt's words are on repeat in my head.

"I.. I don't know what to do.. we don't know what to say to him, he won't say anything to us.." Matt's voice is almost trembling and it's the only time I've ever heard him this worried.

"Matt, I just.. I am not sure if I can help after–" he cuts me off, pleading, "I know you guys broke up but please. We're begging you."

And here I am. Already outside their house, tears streaming down my face. I grab my stuff and before I can wipe away all the tears, the door opens and I'm met with two arms around me.

"We apologise for bringing you all the way here, we're just.. worried.." Nick says and I hug him back. I tell him it's fine and rub his back.

"Guys.. could I ask you a favor?" they both nod at the same time, "could you.. just leave for a bit? Once I make sure he is okay, I will call you straight away."

"Of course. Yes. We'll go grab a coffee. Tell us if you need anything." I nod and they both come closer to me, placing a kiss on both of my cheeks and I can't help but smile.

I leave my stuff on their couch and without a second thought, I immediately walk up the stairs, where Chris' room is. I knock on his door, even though I know he won't answer but I do anyway. I call his name – this is the only time I can actually hear something behind this big, wooden door. I say his name again. The door opens slowly and my heart breaks into pieces.

My beautiful Chris – he looks exhausted. He stands there with his usual gray hoodie, his pyjamas, his hair is a literal mess and there are eye bags under his beautiful eyes. I can see smoke coming out of the room, he smells like it as well – he's been smoking.

"What.. are you doing here?" his voice is hoarse, his eyes are so red, it makes want to cry even more.

"Why are you scaring me like that?" my voice is calm but my bottom lip is quivering.

"I'm sorry.." he says, although I'm not sure if he knows what he's apologizing for, "where's Matt and Nick?"

"They let me in and then I asked them to leave." I say but all I wanna do is hug him.

"Thank you.. uhm, come inside.. if you want." he mutters and attempts to fix his hair as he lets me into his room. I only see bottles of water here and there, I can also see burnt cigarettes all over his desk, there are clothes on the floor, journals scattered all around. His room is a mess, "sorry." he whispers.

"It's fine.." I say under my breath, and honestly, I don't know what to say to him. All I want to do is hug him and kiss him, and I would, but I am still hurt, too.

"You didn't have to come here." he murmurs and takes another cigarette in his mouth, lighter in his other hand. It's like he read my mind because he immediately opens his mouth to speak again, "you don't need to feel sorry for me. I'll be fine."

There's not much I can say to him, but I do move closer to him. He is seated at the edge of his bed and I am now in front of him, looking down at him. I slowly grab the cigarette, pulling it away from him and after I throw it in the ashtray, I pull him in for a big hug. He stays still for a few seconds but I can feel his arms wrapping around my waist just a few seconds later. His head is pressed against my tummy and I have my fingers buried into his hair.

"Do you know how scared I was to hear that you haven't left your room in days?" I whisper and I try hard not to let the tears run down my cheeks once again. I can hear him sniffling and my heart breaks all over again.

He doesn't say anything and I lean down to leave a kiss on the top of his head, "I am sorry I hurt you. I am just.. I thought that was the solution, but it obviously wasn't." he whispers and I can feel my shirt getting wet.

"I hurt you too, and I am sorry. I know how much you want to leave, I shouldn't be selfish. I just can't be away from you." a big tear leaves my eye and I squeeze him in my arms a little bit, "neither can I." he says as he looks up at me.

"Chris.. this is very hard for me, but if it means you'll get to chase your dreams.. then fuck it. I need to see you chasing your goals, I need to know you're happy." I get down on my knees in between his legs and I cup his cheeks, "and if we're meant to be, then we sure will in the future." with every word, it's like I'm stabbing myself over and over again. My hearts cries but my mind knows exactly what it has to do.

He looks at me with those blue eyes, uncontrollable tears falling from them and I just want to kiss them away, "I cannot believe you just said that.." he says, but he doesn't look hurt, if anything, he looks more.. in love?

He grabs my cheeks and pulls me closer, pressing his forehead against mine – his tears fall onto my skin as he wipes away mine, "come with me."

My heart stops. My eyes widen and in pretty sure I look a little crazy, "what?"

"Come with me. Let's move in together. Like we always said we would do when we grow up – now's the time. Come with me." he says and I can finally see a little smile behind that constant frown, "you can decorate our apartment. You can have as many plants as you want inside, you can watch all these fucking horror movies that you like to watch and I won't complain, ever! Please."

Our apartment. I feel like passing out, right here.

"Promise me you'll make up for all the damage you've done to yourself these past few weeks and I swear, I'll go pack my things right now." I whisper against his lips, I cannot stop crying.

He cries too, but his smile is so big, I feel like the whole room is shining. He caresses my cheeks and leans in, placing his soft lips against mine – my heart beats faster than it ever did before, "I love you so much." he says.

Before I can even say anything, he pulls me into his lap so that I'm straddling his thighs and hugs me tightly, looking up at me, "I love you too, babe." I say and lean in for another kiss.

"Sorry I kicked your brothers out earlier."

He laughs and I can't help but laugh with him, "it's okay, they'll be fine. Now come here, I've missed you."

[spectersgirl]

So like... truly not a single individual asked for even anything remotely this but I've had it sitting partially unfinished in my drafts since the day I started this blog. I'm debating turning it into like a 3ish part mini-series but please do let me know if you guys think I should just leave it alone or keep going! If I did continue this, know that future parts would be juicier and likely include a bit of angst as it would kind of work perfectly with a request I have in my inbox!

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)

Something More

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

You were in such a rush to get to work that you hadn’t bothered to check your phone until you were already on the train and headed to your office. If you had, maybe you would’ve put a bit more attention into your appearance on that particular day. Once you were in your seat, you finally pulled out your phone and noticed a rather… compelling message from none other than Harvey Specter. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest.

You’d very recently become a junior partner at the firm, which meant you’d be working just a bit more closely with him than when you were simply an associate. This thought both excited you and also freaked you out just a little. Harvey was the biggest of the big dogs in corporate law, and to say you weren't intimidated would simply be a lie.

The message Harvey had sent you was simple, as he didn’t tend to beat around the bush or waste any time when it came to much of anything.

“Come see me when you get in, I want to chat. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Oh, and there’s something waiting for you in your office.”

You pictured the smirk he had while typing out that message, knowing he'd made you nervous.

You fluffed up your hair a little and checked your lipgloss in the reflection of your front camera and before you knew it, you found yourself pressing the elevator button up to Pearson Specter, and clicking your heels as you walked to Harvey’s office. You decided to go straight there, wanting to get whatever this was out of the way. You paused when you reached Donna’s desk, unsure of whether or not you needed to check in with her first. You'd never been summoned to Harvey's office before.

“You can go right on in, hon. He already told me he’s expecting you.” She said with a slight smile, not even needing to look up from her screen to see who was there.

“H-how’d you know it was me?” You asked, visibly thrown off by her skill. You didn't have a ton of interaction with Donna when you were an associate, only here and there and you’d heard she was good at this type of thing, but damn.

She looked up and gave you the “Do you really have to ask me that” face.

“Right. Thanks, Donna” you said as you turned toward Harvey’s office, only slightly embarrassed.

You knocked on his door, which sat slightly ajar. He was reading from a file folder, but closed it when he saw you enter.

“She Donna’d you, didn’t she?” He asked with amusement present in his tone.

“That she did. But umm, you... wanted to see me?" Your stomach was doing flips, despite him saying you weren't in any trouble, you felt like you were anyway.

He smiled, gesturing at the seat in front of him at his desk. You cautiously sat down, your guard still up.

“I told you, you're not in trouble. You can relax, Y/N. I don't bite. I just wanted to congratulate you personally on making junior partner. I know we’ve never really crossed paths much since you started here, but I really look forward to getting to know you. From what I've heard, you do great work, Y/N. It definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by me, or any of the senior staff. You’re going to do great things here.” He said earnestly.

You were floored. Of anything you expected Harvey to call you into his office for, this wouldn’t have even cracked your top 20 guesses. Up until your promotion, you weren’t even confident he knew your name let alone knew about and recognized the hard work you constantly put in.

“O-oh! Really? Thank you! That means everything coming from you.” You replied.

"Of course 'really', I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." He said with a chuckle.

You relaxed your shoulders and sunk a tiny bit lower in your seat.

Harvey opened his mouth to say something else, but as he did, Donna poked her head in to let him know he had a call from a client.

You quickly stood up and smoothed your dress out.

“I’ll let you take that, but thank you again, Harvey. I really appreciate it.” You told him.

He smiled warmly and stood now, too, walking you the few feet to his doorway. You mentally noted how gentlemanly this was, saving the thought for later.

By the time you got to your office you had completely forgotten the other part of Harvey's message from earlier, that he had left something on your desk. Neatly placed in front of your laptop was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen, and a stack of business cards, embossed with your name and the new title. A post-it note sat on top of them with “Congrats!” written in Harvey’s handwriting. You smiled widely. To you, even these cards meant more than you could possibly describe. They were a physical manifestation of all the hard work you'd put in, everything you'd gone through and overcame. As for the flowers, well, they definitely were a shock to you. You didn’t take Harvey as a flowers guy.

You settled into your desk chair, smiling down at the stack of cards before signing into your computer, and getting started on the slightly mountainous pile of work you had to take care of. With a promotion of course came more cases and harder work, but regardless, you were still glad to have been promoted.

You were deep in your laptop typing up a brief for one of your cases when you noticed a presence standing in your doorway.

“Oh, Harvey! Hey, sorry I was just in my head. I was going to come by earlier and thank you for the flowers and the cards. They’re beautiful”

Harvey grinned and nodded his head.

“Of course, you deserve them! Though I can’t exactly take credit for the floral arrangement… that was all Donna.”

“What can Donna not do?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for the last twelve years."

"Did I hear my name?" Donna said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and making Harvey nearly jump out of his skin.

You smiled brightly, greeting the redhead and thanking her for the flowers. She lit up and told you all about her florist, telling you she'd get you a business card asap.

As the week went on, you found yourself having more run-in's like this with Harvey than you'd had in the entirety of your employment at the firm. Surely it was a coincidence, or at least that's what you'd convinced yourself anyway.

The remaining Harvey-free parts of your week didn't nearly live up to how your first morning as a partner had gone. You had been hitting dead end after dead end in all your cases and nothing was going the way you'd planned. The deposition you had scheduled for Friday got moved, so at the very least, you were able to head home a little earlier than you planned. You were wrapping up and grabbing your coat when a knock on your office door made you jump, the tension from your rather hellish week still rattling you.

"Hey sorry to scare you, I just wanted to see how your first official week as a junior partner went?"

You huffed a sigh in response, not wanting to make a big deal out of the tough day that surely you'd get over.

Harvey chuckled at this.

"That bad, huh?"

"I'll be fine, I’ll get it figured out it’s just everything I tried to do went exactly the opposite of how I wanted it to go."

"I would tell you we've all been there, but I wouldn't want to lie to you," Harvey replied, smirking as he straightened his tie. "Harvey Specter always gets what he wants"

"Mmm, I'm sure he does.” You mused. “Well Harvey, as much as I'd like to chat more, I was about to head home and have a very large, very strong drink."

"Funny, I was about to ask if you'd like to join me for a drink."

You paused for a beat, weighing the pros and cons of going for a drink with Harvey. On one hand, he was technically your boss and it wouldn't be the worst idea to get to know him better. On the other, it made you a little nervous having any alcohol in your system around him. For totally work-related reasons, of course, and no other reasons.

"Fuck it," you thought to yourself. "live a little."

“You know what Harvey? Sure. I'd like that.”

Harvey grinned in a way that made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

"Good, let's get out of here." He said, grabbing your coat off the coat rack and handing it to you.

You grabbed it from him, put your bag over your shoulder and flicked the lamp on your desk off.

Harvey stood by the door to your office, holding it open and letting you go first.

"Wow, and to think just yesterday I thought you were only a pretty boy with an ego. Harvey Specter is actually a gentleman?" You questioned teasingly. Harvey raised an eyebrow, smirking as you both walked toward the elevators.

"All I'm hearing is that you think I'm pretty"

"Not the point, Specter."

"It's the only point I caught. Did you say something else?"

"And suddenly I'm regretting saying yes to you"

Harvey chuckled now, pressing the lobby button as the elevator doors closed.

Not an hour later, the two of you were seated at a small table in whatever fancy bar it was that Harvey had taken you to. You'd forgotten the name, but apparently, it was somewhere Harvey frequented if the exceptional treatment from the staff and the fact that they knew his name was any indication.

You ordered the drink you always ordered, a whiskey ginger with a lime, and Harvey nodded approvingly before ordering his own drink.

Once your server walked away, he turned to you with an impressed look on his face.

"You're a whiskey girl?"

You shrugged. "I've become one, I used to be a vodka girl in college though." You said with a giggle, remembering all the nights stumbling home from parties with your college roommate after way too many vodka lemonades.

"I was a 'whatever gets me drunk the fastest' guy myself," Harvey said, making you both laugh. Your drinks arrived and you held your glass up to cheers before taking the first sip.

You were surprisingly having a great time with Harvey, he was really getting to know you and you were even able to squeeze a few stories out of him, too. As time passed and the more drinks you had, the more you let your guard down and finally admitted to yourself that Harvey wasn't the same cocky guy you'd heard about from the rest of the world. He'd already started to show this in the workplace, but now that all the stress of the office was gone maybe, just maybe, you were even starting to admit to yourself that you wanted something else between the two of you. You pondered this while Harvey ordered another drink for each of you, your fourth of the night.

"Okay that'll have to be my last one, I can assure you, you don't want to see drunk Y/N this early into knowing me. She can be a handful" You warned with a smile.

Harvey chuckled in response, nodding in understanding.

You each sipped your drinks as you chatted some more, giving him some more bits and pieces about your life.

Harvey flagged down the server when you were both finished and before you could even offer to pay for your drinks, Harvey had already handed over his Amex.

"You didn't have to do that, I'm more than capable of buying my own drinks." You stated, standing and draping your coat over your arm. The heat from your slight intoxication warming you enough as it was. Harvey followed your lead, standing from his own chair before responding. He stepped slightly forward, much closer to you.

"I know you are, I just wanted to celebrate you making junior partner and show you that I really enjoyed your company tonight," Harvey said softly, a genuine smile on his face.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire at his admission, and at the lack of distance.

"I happened to enjoy your company too."

You knew it was risky, and likely unrequited, to feel the way you felt right there in that busy yet intimate bar. You rationally knew that he probably was just being nice because he wanted to get to know you better for working purposes, but the drinks you'd had were starting to catch up with you and you didn't know how long you'd be able to take this closeness.

Harvey spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"Look, I know it might cause some talk around the office, but I'd like to have something more with you. So, if you're feeling what I'm feeling, I'd really like to see you again. I mean, I'll see you at work obviously. But I'd like to take you out again, more planned this time-" He stammered, making you smile.

"Harvey?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop talking."

Before you could think twice you were pulling him close, planting your lips on his, and he wasted no time returning the gesture. When you finally pulled away, slightly out of breath, Harvey tucked your hair behind your ear.

"So is that a yes?"

"That's definitely a yes."

[blingblong55]

Not the only one- Alejandro Vargas

A/N: something short...and a dream that came to me not too long ago

F!Reader, angst, established relationship, cheating

Two years of marriage and 5 years of dating all equal 7 years where love grew and grew, never seeming to end. But all great things in this world have to end soon, whether you want it or not it must all end.

The downfall of your love happened exactly 2190 hours ago. It was late November when he stumbled across her, he was working with 141 looking for El Sin Nombre when he found out that the woman he titled his first love was the 'man' they were looking for. Valeria Garza is the one to blame for the tears on your face and how as of right now you are in what was once called home. He swore he had moved on years ago, that it was the reason he fell for you and why you two started to process of creating a family.

All are ruined because of one weak man and his selfish needs. How did you find out? Simple, he left his phone with you, a message appeared on the screen, 'Just come over, tell her you have to go to base or something' the sender was named, "Rudy-new number". And you knew best, Alejandro always gave you Rudy's number because, in case of an emergency, he'd be the one you should contact if need be. So of course, the suspicion grew from then, you waited and waited until he made a mistake so you could call him out on it.

But the man is smart, never did he let the mask slip, always home on time, cuddles and kisses all the same, except for one thing, the rush of love you'd feel from each touch and kiss, all gone.

"What's wrong, cariño?" his voice called you back to your senses, you had been staring at the wall for nearly an hour, trying to deny the fact you finally had enough proof he had been unfaithful. One of the men that worked with him decided to speak up about it. He is an honest man, has a wife himself and knowing a friend of his was hurting a good woman such as yourself would not go unnoticed by him.

The proof consisted of videos and photographs of him and another woman. In a video Alejandro had been bragging about how he finally started to have fun with some woman, the other men cheered him on and he proudly took the compliments. Said soldier even apologised to you, 'No man or woman should be unfaithful to the one they claim to love, so I'm sorry, miss...I really am' the message read.

"Nothing, just a little tired." you finally respond to him, eyes teary and your only excuse was you hadn't blinked for so long they just burnt a little. "If you say so," he grabbed his mug and sipped from it. He had been home for nearly 2 hours before he had a 'meeting' he must attend. You knew where he would be heading to, decided to just let it be.

He kissed your forehead and soon drove away, with enough minutes left of sun you knew he'd be in her arms. Maybe she was an old lover, but you knew best. Old or new, feelings always get the best of any weak man or woman. You sat there, looking at old memories, thinking back to the days he promised you, you are the only woman for him. A wave of anger floods through you when you saw the jewellery he had bought for her in one of the pockets of his coat.

All the sweet nothings, vows and promises what were they said if only meant to be broken? They were all empty promises to him and to you, they were oaths. Kept every single one like your life depended on them.

By now, he is probably kissing her and holding her close like how he used to hold you, but one thing is different unlike with you, he means those kisses and touches. Valeria is a tough woman, she is capable of lots of things, and one of them is, slowly killing your heart, taking your soul and crushing it in front of your eyes. She is a cruel and cold woman, knows you exist in his life and will do any and everything to ruin that life you once had. Not that she is fully aware of the damages but she knows best. Women know best.

Maybe you won't be the one for him but it would've been fun if you could've been the one he loved, truly loved.

A/N: not much arguing between you two, but I think its at least good enough :)