#Feeling threatened because you guys are growing up and growing apart and you were supposed to be together forever

[toruro]

— ✧ crybaby

a part of the crybaby series !

pairing. lee chan x reader

description. you've always had a tendency to cry over minuscule things and chan kind of hates it—he thinks it's irritating and immature and stupid. it also doesn't help that he's fighting off the feeling that he might be super into it, because that would just be scandalous, right?

genre. smut (18+), minor angst, fluff

tags. *smut tags under cut* tattooist chan, crybaby reader, use of alcohol & weed, brief descriptions of pain, unrealistic portrayal of getting a tattoo done but who cares, chan is kinda mean in this but he makes up for it promieee

w/c. 7.9k

✘ smut tags. dacryphilia, fingering, semi-public sex, praise kink, petnames (baby, good girl, crybaby), brief condescension

You’re a crybaby—there’s no simpler way of putting it.

Glossy eyes and sticky cheeks are no stranger to your everyday life. Your parents thought you’d grow out of it, even when the tears followed you through middle school and were the root of some fucking embarrassing moments in high school.

Surely university would change things. Surely it’d teach you that the big girl world has no room for your whimpers. Surely you wouldn’t end up crying to your childhood friends, Jeonghan and Jihoon, because you tripped over your own laces even now that you’re in your twenties.

You learn that the thing about being a crybaby is that you never really stop being one.

So yeah. Here you are, in your twenties, knocking on Jeonghan and Jihoon’s door, as you try to hold back the tears that threaten to spill because you tripped over your shoelaces in front of the lobbyman on the way up to their apartment.

You were supposed to meet up with them and a couple other friends from your little circle, but of course you just had to mess things up for yourself, silently reprimanding yourself for letting something as silly and stupid as this get to your head.

You’re expecting Jeonghan to open the door—he’s usually the one by the door—so it’s safe to say that you’re just a little surprised when you see Chan open the door.

Chan runs in your friend circle—he’s a good friend of Jihoon’s, so naturally you see each other often. Though, you wouldn’t exactly call the two of you close. Chan’s a bit … intimidating. Tight lipped and narrow eyes, he doesn’t speak to anyone much, let alone you.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy him; after all, Chan is a nice guy, and he’s patted your back and soothed your tears on multiple occasions before. You’ve had some fun conversations here and there, usually when you two are the first to get to a spot and sit and wait for the others to show up.

Chan is also … handsome. Intimidating and kind and handsome—an odd mix, really, but it has your gears turning whenever you’re around him, so rest assured you’re at least a little frazzled when he opens the door instead of Jeonghan.

He glances at you as you furiously wipe away your tears and frowns. “What happened?”

You choke out a small laugh as your breaths finally even out, shaking your head as you move to the side of the couch so he can have some room to sit. “Embarrassed myself in front of the lobbyman,” you mutter, finally letting your hands drop from your face and by your side.

Chan just hums and nods, not prying any further, telling you, “I’m sure he didn’t notice,” before stepping to the side so you can shuffle into the room. With burning cheeks, the two of you make your way to the living room, and you’re grateful that Chan was the only one to arrive before you, so the only others in the room are Jeonghan and Jihoon.

Jihoon catches the sight of your tear streaked cheeks faces first, sighing as you sit down next to him. You can tell he’s about to ask you what happened, but you hold up your hand to stop him. “Don’t ask, it was embarrassing,” you mutter, sinking into the cushions.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue but pats your head from the armchair next to the sofa as Chan sits on the ground across from him. The four of you fall into conversation pretty quickly, and you soon forget all about your stupid laces and stupid tears and laugh along with your friends as the others begin to show up.

It’s how it always goes: the tears and then the laughter that always follows. You’ve grown accustomed to it, and as you adjust to the so-called big girl world, you learn that if your habits can’t be dumped, you might as well learn to live your life around them.

Your friend Soyeon greets you at the tattoo parlor the next day. Smiling, she waves you down to her counter, peeling her eyes away from the screen to look up at you. “Hey,” she says with a smile as you adjust the bag over your shoulder. “Was waiting for you to finally stop by.”

You chuckle and shake your head, looking down. “I know, I know … I’ve been saying I want to get something done since forever but I just never had the time or the cash but I finally caved,” you explain.

Soyeon’s a good friend of yours, and she works as a piercer at the parlor by your apartment complex. You figure she doesn’t have any appointments now, which is why she’s working at the reception, and to be honest, you’re glad it’s her and not some stranger who’s helping you out right now.

“You short on cash?” she asked with a brow raised as she scrolls through the screen, presumably looking through appointments. You reach into your bag and hand her a paper of the design you want. It’s simple, and small, and she examines the image before nodding and handing it back to you.

You shake your head. “Well, I’ve been saving up to see TWICE, so I was just being cautious but now that I’ve got the tickets, I can breathe easy now.”

“Hmm, yeah that makes sense. If you’re still interested in a discounted price though, you can book an appointment with the apprentice.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Who?”

Soyeon chuckles, and points at the design on your paper. “You know, a new tattoo artist. Like, the one we got has been doing it for almost 2 years now so he’s pretty good, but it’s still lower cost than if you got this done with the regulars. And since you have a really simple design, you can trust that nothing’s really gonna go wrong.”

“Really? That’s great!” you say, bouncing excitedly as you nod your head before pausing. “Like, is there a chance it might go wrong?”

“Hmm, I doubt it. Our guy is actually great, and like I said, he’s on his final leg of his apprenticeship anyways so I’d be surprised if he messes this up, honestly.”

“That’s nice then, can you book me for an appointment with him?”

“Yeah sure,” Soyeon replies, scrolling through the computer before holding a finger up. “He should be free two days from now in the evening right before we close. That’s when he usually works, but he doesn’t have a booking for that day … does that work?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” you agree, and Soyeon smiles as she pulls out a clipboard and a paper.

“I’ll write you down for six then. Sign this waiver, and then just come in then.”

You smile and nod. “Sounds good!”

It’s the next evening, and you’re pressing your back into a wall wondering how you got yourself into this situation. One overly sweet drink in a cup held close to your chest, people dancing and playing games, talking and screaming over the loud music that blasts into your ears and straight down to your heart, you stand in a corner twiddling with your fingers.

you: hey where r u?  [8:43 PM] you: kinda worried … ur still coming right?? [8:45 PM] you: jihoooon hello? [8:50 PM] jihoon: hey i’m rly sorry [8:56 PM] jihoon: i can’t go today [8:56 PM] you: what why?? [8:57 PM] jihoon: i forgot i promised jj that i’d go over to his tonight [8:57 PM] jihoon: i’m rly sorry [8:57 PM] you: :/ it’s okay [8:58 PM] jihoon: sorry again [8:59 PM] jihoon: i know chan and jun are there, stick w them , i’m sure they wouldn’t mind [9:00 PM]

Fat chance with the latter, since Jun is in the corner of the room with a girl grinding down on him as they eat each other’s faces off.

you: yeah, i’ll just go look for chan [9:02 PM]

And that’s what you do, clutching the red solo cup to your chest as you let the situation sink into your skin. You’re a little upset, of course. Jihoon didn’t intend to flake on you, you know that for sure, but it doesn’t really help the fact that he still did it.

Needless to say you’re feeling … oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Not this again. No way you’re going to start crying in the middle of a fucking college party because one of your friends didn’t tag along. You’re not even alone—there’s that nice girl from your chem in the kitchen and she looks perfectly sober and ready to hold a decent conversation, there’s the goofy guy from your freshman orientation group smoking in a corner and you’re sure he wouldn’t mind catching up, and then your eyes land on Chan, relief hitting your body in recurring waves.

He’s on the couch, dark hair pushed back so they don’t fall over his eyes as he sinks into the cushions. He looks relaxed and calm, and looking at the joint that sits between his fingers, you have a feeling you know why. His other hand holds his phone, and under the glaring artificial light of his phone and the alternating colors of the led lights that train the wall, he looks handsome.

The tears that poked at your eyes just moments ago seem to die back down as you approach him, glad to see a much more familiar face—one that isn’t being sucked off by another girl at the moment.

“Hey,” you murmur, sitting down next to Chan on the worn-out sofa (you’re pretty sure you knocked over someone’s drink as your feet shuffle on the ground, but you’re a bit too much in your feels to say anything about it). You think you see Chan’s eyes narrow at you when he looks up from his phone, but you can’t quite tell.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice low and gruff as he looks back down at his phone. You remember Jeonghan saying something about how they played basketball together today so you think he’s just a bit, yet you can’t help but feel that ugly knot tie up in your throat again.

(Are you just oddly vulnerable in this moment, or does Chan look at you with something a little more demeaning than just fatigue?)

“Uh—” Fuck, there’s that stupid feeling in your throat. The one that, no matter how many times you try to gulp down, it comes bubbling back up hotter and harder to avoid until you feel your eyes sting and face grow warmer. You want to forget about Jihoon and his stupid text that you let ruin your night, and you want to tell Chan that you like his shirt because that might be the only thing that stops the hot drops from pooling in your lash line and—

“Are you going to cry?” Chan asks you flatly.

If your chances of crying were fifty-fifty one moment ago, they’re definitely one-hundred-to-one now.

“What?” All creaky and hoarse, the words come out as a strained whisper—Chan doesn’t even need to look at the fat tears that are already rolling down your face to know the answer.

You expect him to sigh heavily. To give you a ‘I knew it’ sorta look, but without the meanness. To pat your shoulder and tell you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Chan scoffs at you, and you come to the conclusion that this is easily the worst night of your life.

He could’ve stopped there. The damage was most definitely dealt and as you hold your breath and try to hold back the tears amidst the crowd (it won’t work, it never does, but you’d be a fool to not at least try), you hold onto what shreds of dignity you have left and hope he doesn’t continue.

Because again, Chan could’ve stopped there. He was right. Those five words made their point, and the grief stricken look on your face is enough to tell him that you’ve gotten his message.

Chan could’ve stopped, but he doesn’t.

“Seriously like—” he scoffs again, running a hand through his thick dark locks before shoving his phone in his pocket and turning to face you.

Oh.

There’s that face; eyebrows knitted together and jaw taut, a sharp gaze and lips almost curved into a sneer. Chan is annoyed, and he’s annoyed with you.

Oh.

You think you’d get used to it by now: the snotty tears and soft hiccups for air as you try to breathe in a room filled with so many people while feeling so alone. You guess the funny thing about being a crybaby is that no matter how many tears you waste, you’re always pushed back to square one after each time.

“—D’you ever not cry?” You think Chan intends for the words to come out as a mean joke, and through the wavering thoughts and emotions that flood through your brain and send a rush through your ears, you commend him: mission accomplished, because this is one hell of a mean, mean joke.

“Chan—” It’s a fruitless attempt, you’re starting to realize, to try and stop him.

“Like is there a single day that goes by where you aren’t bursting into tears over every damn inconvenience? Fuck, it’s so annoying.” He huffs loudly when your mouth opens agape but fails to let any words out, reaching for the joint that sits on the coffee table in front of you. Chan holds the roll close to his lips, not bothering to even glance your way as he inhales heavily. The blow of smoke from his lips moments later fogs between you two, and for a second you’re grateful that he won’t be able to see your face.

“If you want someone to wipe your tears like a baby, go look for Jeonghan or Jihoon or something,” he says finally, the smoke clearing up and fading into the crowd of people in the room. Chan leans back into the sofa, black shirt clinging close to his skin, and you can tell that this is his way of telling you to get out. “Whatever you do, leave me out of it.”

You think about Chan’s words more than you should, honestly. And you cry over it, of course. (When do you not cry about it?) You don’t tell Jeonghan or Jihoon anything about what happened that night, which is a first. Then again, it’s not every day that someone you’d confided in, someone you’d trusted, someone you’d cried to, holds an impromptu announcement of his irritation with you.

Jeonhgan would hear this and correct you, saying, “Channie isn’t annoyed with you, he just … doesn’t like how you cry often,” to which you would say that this is you! This is who you are and if Chan doesn’t like that, then he can’t ever like you!

Jihoon would hear this and tell you that Chan was just high off his mind, to which you would argue that words said under the influence always do wear a ring of honesty. They don’t bear the barrier of a filter that the sober mind does, and you would go even further to say that the words Chan spat at you that night were as true as they come.

Still, you try not to dwell on it, mainly because you fear you’ll cry if you think about it too much, and that would just be proving his point. Instead, you focus on your plans for this evening: getting your first tattoo.

It’s exciting, really, as you put on a cute skirt and simple top, skipping down the street to make your way to Soyeon’s parlor. Maybe this is a new phase of your life, you tell yourself as you slip into the parlor. It’s quiet, and you recall your friend telling you that she booked your appointment near closing time.

“Hey!” she greets you happily when you walk through the door. “You look cute.”

Smiling bashfully, you look down at the outfit. “Yeah, thanks,” you reply with a giggle.

“You excited? You’re getting your tattoo cherry popped today, right?”

“Yeah! I’m a little nervous, but I’ve also been really wanting to do this for a while,” you admit.

“That’s great to hear … the guy who’s doing your thing is just cleaning up his area, and he’ll take you to his room in just a sec …”

There are a few thudding footsteps that you hear in the distance, and when you see who approaches from behind Soyeon at the counter, your heart drops.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“Hey Chan, you ready to take her to the back?” she asks, turning around to face the one person who you’ve been trying so damn hard not to think about. Clad in a tight fit white t-shirt and dark jeans, Chan looks up from his phone, eyes landing on you in an instant.

The evening sun beams on his skin and for a moment he glows. The memories of the night before flood back to you though, and suddenly it all seems dull.

“Uh …” It seems he’s just as surprised as you, and you can only thank the gods that Soyeon is looking at him instead of you, because god knows that he is doing a much better job at hiding it. He nods his head, near-black hair wisping over his forehead as he gestures to a room in the far end of the parlor. “Yeah, everything’s set up, so it should all be good now.” Fuck, how is he able to act so normal?

“Okay great, you two can head on back there. How long you think it’ll take?”

Chan shrugs—he’s too nonchalant, and you can’t seem to read him. “Uh, like an hour. I can close if you want.”

“Nah, it’s chill,” Soyeon replies. “I gotta stock up on some packages anyways, so I’ll be here for a while.”

Chan nods, and then for the first time he meets your eyes. “C’mon,” he waves you over when he turns around, and silently you follow him through the hallway and to a door near the back. “Didn’t know tattoos were your thing,” he says as you walk into the room. The walls are light blue and most of the equipment is dark and steel—it feels sterile, and the cold distance between you and your friend (?) is not helping to ease your nerves.

“They’re, uh, just something I’m trying out. Th-this is my first one.” Shit, this is so awkward.

Chan only hums and nods, closing the door and walking over to a desk space on the side that’s littered with equipment, ink, a laptop, tissues, a couple bottles of god knows what, and some papers.

“This is what you want?” he asks finally, breaking the heavy silence as he holds up a stamp with the printed shape of a crescent moon.

“Uh—yeah,” you say quietly as he gestures towards the chair beside him.

“Cool. It’s simple, so it shouldn’t take more than an hour with all the prep and clean up,” Chan tells you when he sits down on his own swivel chair next to the larger stationed one where you’re perched by. He moves back and forth as you settle down, and he soon brings over the temporary tattoo to your arm. “Show me exactly where you want it.”

It’s a few moments of you two going back and forth, pressing the stamp over different areas of your arm before settling it on a spot just above your elbow that you like. The setting is … oddly professional, although you’re not sure if you’re happy or upset about it.

Chan and you are friends—at least you thought you were until last night—so now you wonder how things would’ve gone today if he hadn’t been honest with you last night. Would you have sat in this same chair, laughing along to jokes or catching up on your lives? Would you have voiced your nervousness, and would he have comforted you?

You don’t know, and you realize that you’ll probably never find out.

After the final position is chosen, he transfers the stamp onto your skin to create the temporary template, cleaning the area on your arm and disinfecting his needles in the process. He doesn’t really talk to you, only letting a few words slip to let you know what he’s doing, and what he’s going to do next.

Are you overthinking things? This is a purely professional setting so there’s no reason for either of you to bring up what happened last night, and Chan’s made it pretty clear he’s not interested in your feelings anyways, so maybe you should let this all go.

Your mind fills with a race of thoughts despite your desperate attempts to tell your brain to shut up, and so naturally you find yourself fidgeting in your seat.

Chan watches you from the corner of his vision. As much as he hates to admit it, there’s something … endearing about the way you squirm in front of him. It sets his heart ablaze when you avert your gaze every time the two of you make eye contact, and Chan isn’t quite sure if it’s because he wants you to hold it or if it’s just because he finds your apprehension irritating.

“We’re gonna start now,” he says finally, slipping on two black gloves and holding up the buzzing tattoo pen. “It’s gonna hurt and all, ‘m sure you know,” he hums, holding your arm and scooting forward in the rolly chair so his face is dangerously close to yours. “Let me know if you want a break, yeah?”

Strictly professional, you remind yourself when you nod, helping him adjust the angle of your arm for his ease. Taking a deep breath, you watch carefully as Chan holds the need close to your skin.

It’s a small pinch at first, and then it burns. You bite down hard on your bottom lip and press your eyes shut tight as you silently curse yourself for not preparing yourself any better for this before. Oh well, there isn’t much backing out of this now.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts, and you choose to look away because actually seeing the needle pressed against your skin makes you feel a bit more dizzy than you’d like. You enjoy the few moments where Chan takes a break, fixes something with the gun, before going back in with a few short and warning words. It’s after a few moments that the pain returns, and you slightly jerk as an instinctive reaction.

“Calm down.” Chan’s voice is deep and low, but you can hardly hear it through the rush in your ears when a hand presses over your thigh. Fuck. Fuck. Why is his hand so warm? Is he burning or are you burning and—fuck. It’s so big, and splays over the plush of your thigh so nicely and— “I can’t do this if you keep fidgeting.”

“S-sorry,” you reply quietly, peeling your eyes away as he lifts off his hand. You’re half convinced there’ll be a burn spot in the shape of his hand from where it was placed. You two are awfully close, and if you weren’t so fucking vulnerable right now you might have basked in the pretty view that is his face.

Chan feels your tears first, hears your soft sniffles second. Dropping onto his forearm that sits under your face, when he glances up at you, you’re already wiping them away and turning to look at the wall on the other side.

There it is again. That weird feeling in his chest that he always gets when he sees you tear up, and now more than ever, Chan wonders if it’s something more than discontent.

“Sorry,” you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip hard. Fuck, this is embarrassing. You can feel the burn of his eyes on you, and you’re growing more and more impatient as you wait for him to turn away. It’s a heavy few moments, although it feels like hours until he finally lifts his hand off your thigh.

“It’s okay,” he finally says, his voice lower and quieter than you expected. “Is it the pain?”

“Y-yeah,” you admit bashfully once the tears have finally stopped falling. “I have a low pain tolerance but I thought I’d be able to handle without—”

“It’s okay,” he says again, and his tone is surprisingly soft, forcing you to look down at him as he holds your arm gently. His brown eyes are wide and kind—has he always looked at you so fondly? “Calm down, we’re almost done.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly, and Chan senses the anxiousness in your voice. He battles himself in his mind, before telling himself that if he doesn’t give in now, he might regret it forever.

“Here,” he murmurs, easing one hand onto your lap. “Hold my hand.”

“W-what?”

“Hold my hand,” Chan repeats, a little bit firmer, but he still shyly averts his gaze, as if he too is aware of how out of character this is. “And, uh, you can squeeze it when it hurts.”

Steadily, you nod, slotting your hand into his. A perfect fit, you both seem to think as he encases his fingers around yours, but neither of you comment on it as Chan brings up the needle to your arm again, pressing it to your skin.

You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s holding you now, or because of the sheer intensity in the way he looked at you, but the tense knots in your muscles seem to relax even though you’re in pain. Tears prick at your eyes once more, but this time you make no effort to wipe them away.

You whimper a few times, and you swear on everything that Chan grips your hand a little tighter, but in your dizzy haze you can’t quite pinpoint why.

It’s a bit of a roller coaster for Chan himself. Your hand is just so … cute in his, and the soft sniffles and cries that he thought he loathed are making him second guess everything he’s ever thought about you, and as he’s finishing up drawing the little moon on your arm, he’s hit with epiphany.

Chan never hated you, and he never hated your tears. When you shift under him, press the pads of your fingers into his palm and knit your eyebrows together in an attempt to keep quiet … Chan fucking loves it.

Whenever he saw you in tears, he never hated you for crying, he hated that you were crying for any reason other than him, and he hated how you went to Jeonghan and Jihoon to wipe your tears away instead of him.

It’s a sickening thought, really, that he let those venomous words pierce your skin the night before instead of realizing his own fondness for you. His fondness for the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your lips, your fidgeting figure and wide, glossy eyes.

“Almost done …” he mutters, and it only takes two more minutes before he lifts the needle and looks up at you, still clasping your hands together.

“Is it done?” you ask meekly, tightening your grip on his fingers as you anticipate your answer. When Chan nods up at you, he watches your shoulders deflate in relief, and the light that overtakes your tear streaked face sends his heart in a frenzy.

“Just gotta put the ointment and wrap.”

You chew on your lip, and Chan thinks he might just pass out. “Is it gonna hurt too … ?”

“A little, but then it’ll feel really good,” he says honestly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go and taking his gloves off so he can grab some stuff from the table. You miss his warmth, but wonder if it’s for the better. Chan may be acting rather … lovingly right now, but you also never noticed his irritation with you earlier, so you don’t think you can really trust your senses.

You watch him bring out a tube, pushing out a clear ointment onto his fingers before bringing it up to your hand and smearing it over your skin. You make a disgruntled sort of sound when he does, unaware of the initial sting it came with, quickly pressing your lips together when you realize Chan is still here.

He hums, not looking up at you but still murmuring, “Good job,” as he slides the ointment over the little symbol. “So good for me …”

Fuck, this is so dirty. It’s so dirty and so sexy, and even though every bone in your body is telling you ‘no! no! no!’ you can’t help but let the little depraved whimper that escapes your mouth at the praise. Chan hears it, and he definitely feels your desperation in the air. It’s suffocating in the best way possible, to say the least.

So, to test the water, he eases one hand back onto your thigh, slightly close to your knee as he uses his other hand to pull out the clear film. “It might hurt while I put it on but it’ll feel good afterwards, ‘kay?” And when his voice is so tender and sweet, how can you do anything but look at him shyly and nod, bottom lip clasped between your teeth.

As he places the sheet over the fresh tattoo, he lets his hand inch up your thigh. Your arm stings as the film sticks to your skin, but none of it compares to the flame he lights across your skin with his gentle touch.

Oh. Oh.

This is real. This is happening.

“Chan,” you whine, and then Chan knows it in his bones.

“Does it hurt?” he asks innocently, smoothing his fingers over the film to make sure it sticks before turning his attention to the hand back at your thigh. It’s awfully close to the hem of your skirt which is already ridden up to the max, brushing dangerously close to your core.

“Not really,” you murmur, finally meeting Chan’s gaze. He’s still sitting down now, right by your chair and head a bit under yours so you can see the white light reflect against his brown eyes as you both sit in the silence.

You could hear a pin drop, and the only thing you’re focused on is the shattering touch of Chan against you, so when he whispers, “You okay?” you know he’s asking something else. Is this okay?

When you whimper as his hand slips beneath your skirt, Chan gets his answer.

“Quiet baby, quiet,” he shushes, lips ghosting over your arm as he presses a thumb against your clit roughly, toying with the nub through your panties. “‘m gonna take care of you, but you gotta be quiet, okay?”

“S’hard Channie,” you whine before slamming a hand over your mouth. “Don’t think I can …” Chan gives you a warning look before sighing and starting to gain speed.

“Soyeon’s gonna hear you,” he murmurs, rubbing circles over your panties as he starts to stand up. It has your vision going blurry—the way his fingers are so methodical and his gaze is intense on your form as he now looks down at you from above.

You don’t even have time to think about what this moment means for the two of you because Chan is leaning down and using his unoccupied hand to grab your face, smashing your parted lips against his. 

You kiss him sweetly, and Chan feels himself melt right into your touch with the way your tongue plays around shyly with his. Holding one of your cheeks, he feels the moistness of your tears under his touch, only fueling his vigor as he licks into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips as he pulls away, grazing his fingers over your clothed cunt. You jerk against him, using one hand to grab his firm bicep, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Channie,” you pout, swiveling your hips in the squeaky chair as you chase for more relief. Chan hums, leaning down to graze his teeth over your neck before biting down lightly. Mewling at the pleasurable sting, you sink your nails into his arm tighter as you feel a warmth boil in your tummy.

“Promise you’re gonna be quiet, baby,” Chan murmurs into your skin as he peels your panties off and to the side of your slick core, exploding the fluttering folds to the cold air of the room.

“I—” you hiccup of your own moan, a few stray tears falling when Chan eases one finger into your pulsing cunt, his thumb still toying with your clit, “—I promise,” you tell him, as quietly as you can when you blink up at him.

“That’s my girl,” he mutters when you whimper as he slips in another finger, finding a rhythm when he fucks them in and out of you at an increasingly fervent pace. They’re long and thick, finding all the spots inside of you that have you writhing in his chair, curling his fingers into them until you’re biting down on your lip so hard you might have drawn blood.

Chan watches you carefully as a fresh mark blooms at the base of your neck, a filling sense of pride overtaking him when he sees your own tears fall on the mark. “Fuck,” he groans, drinking in your choked moans that break free, despite your obvious attempts to keep quiet. You’re trying so hard for him, it’s admirable and fucking adorable. “Crying already?” he croons, starting to grind the palm of his hand against your clit in tune with the swiveling of your hips.

“C-can’t help it,” you whimper, digging your face into his chest as a futile attempt to calm down your breaths even as you approach your inevitable high. “Feels s’good,” you confess bashfully, pulling away so you can crane your neck up to look at him.

Your lashes are stuck together and your under eyes are shiny, and Chan doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter. His jeans feel ten sizes too small with the way his hardness is pressing against them, and he aches for nothing more than to stick it in and fuck you until you don’t know how to cry about anything but him.

Fuck, he’s in deep. So, so deep.

Here you are, panting into his chest as he finger fucks you into oblivion, whispering words of endless praise into your ear—the two you of don’t know how things ended up like this, but you’re sure neither of you are complaining.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine, thankful that his shirt muffles at least some of the noise. If Soyeon were ever to hear this, you might just have to never speak to her again. “Fuck, I’m so close Channie.”

It’s the way you call for him—Channie—so sweetly and with such mind numbing passion that Chan starts to lose control. He told himself he’d take his time with you, working you up to a heavy orgasm but you’re already muffling sobs into his chest and he hasn’t even stuck it in yet. It’s a sight too pretty, too cute, and Chan can’t help but indulge in you, speeding up his fingers until you let out a squeak and more tears, cunt pulsing and clenching around his fat fingers.

“There you go, baby,” he praises, curling his fingers into all the right spots as you grow limp beneath him, sobbing through your orgasm. “There you go, fuck yourself on my fingers … feels good right? Made you feel good?”

“Good,” you slur, body drifting back so you lay against the headrest of the chair, Chan’s fingers still inside of you as overstimulation replaces desperation. You look at him as if he holds all the answers in the words, shiny eyes that are blown out, sweat stuck to your skin so it makes you shine and fuck, Chan thinks you look so sexy. Legs spread and skirt ridden up when he finally slips two fingers from your dripping core, slick coating the chair and the insides of your thigh.

“Messy girl,” he chides, and you whine at both the words and the loss of him inside of you. Your breaths are shaky still, recovering from the orgasm that wracked through your body, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of this situation.

Thoughts buzz through your mind at a million miles per hour and you aren’t sure what’s more dizzying—that Can possibly likes you or that he just fingered you in a tattoo parlor. Eyes glossing over your figure, you catch the way he looks at you with pink cheeks and a tent in his jeans. Oh god.

“Can we—”

“Yes,” he breathes out. “I just—” For once, Chan looks like he’s lost. You always thought Chan to be well composed in all situations. Cool. Chan was cool, and he was intimidating, and he was hot, but now he looks at you like he wants to lay with you forever and melt into your bones, and without a second of hesitation, you know that you want to do the same.

He kisses you with a new found vigor, as if to remind you that he’s still here, wiping away the tears that still linger on your face before easing one hand around your waist, running up and down along the side of your body. “Gonna make you cry,” he grunts, turning your body so your legs hang over the side of the chair instead of the front. Pushing himself in between your legs, they instinctively part and wrap around his waist, drenched panties pressing against his crotch.

“Shit,” you hiss at the friction, glancing up at him as you flip your skirt up so you can both watch the way your hips connect. “I—”

You’re cut off by knocking on your door, all your muscles tensing when you hear Soyeon’s voice. “Hey Chan, I actually think I’m gonna head out now,” she calls out. Chan doesn’t turn around, his eyes firmly set on you under him, and he tentatively juts his hips forward, pressing his erection against your clothed core even harder.

You almost moan. Almost. You narrow your eyes up at him, but the hint of a smirk tugs at his lips before opening his mouth and saying, “Yeah, go ahead. We still got …” Chan’s eyes glaze over you, and something in them darkens as he watches you struggle not to make a sound. “We still got stuff to take care of,” he tells Soyeon through the door. “I’ll close up, just leave the keys in the box.”

“Are you sure, because—”

“Yeah,” Chan says, a bit louder and firmer this time, causing you to twitch beneath him, reaching out for a hand to hold. Chan watches you fondly as you do so, fingers going in a grabbing motion towards him, and something inside him melts when he slots one hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. “Just go Soyeon, I’ll take care of everything. Just go.”

You can hear Soyeon mutter something about Chan being an asshole as her footsteps fade away, but neither of you care after Chan looks down at you again. “Fuck,” he mutters, letting go of your hand and grabbing the back of your neck, smashing his mouth on yours as he grinds into you.

“Wan’ it now, Chan,” you moan as you fruitlessly gyrate your hips, the action proving to be difficult when your legs are locked around Chan’s torso.

“Fuck, me too baby,” he grunts, pushing your shirt upwards so that they bunch up over your bra. You help him out, unclipping the flimsy material and throwing your bra off to the side. Chan takes this time to unbuckle the black belt secured around his waistband, wasting no time to shove his jeans down to pool at his knees, leaving him in nothing but boxers that are starting to look painfully tight.

His bulge is basically staring at you, and you feel your mouth water at just the thought of what hides behind the thin fabric. Growing impatient, you reach forward and help him out, tugging down his boxers as he fondles one of your tits with a large hand. A soft gasp escapes your lips when his cock is freed, springing up and against your hand, smearing precum all over your palm.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Chan groans when you wrap your hand around the base of his fat length, steadily jerking him off as you admire how pretty he is. You look so enamored with him, and Chan feels himself growing dizzy. Fuck, this is happening. This is really happening.

Firmly yet carefully, he pushes your shoulders back and then smooths a hand over your thighs before finally pulling your hips closer to his. He traces his touch over your soiled panties, admiring the wet stain and the way you jerk against him when he brushes a finger over your clit.

You hear the rip first. The feeling of cool air against your sopping pussy hits you a second later, and you gape up at Chan who yanks your now torn panties right off of you. You can’t control your moan this time, the depraved noise ripping through your throat as you lean backwards.

“You ready baby?” Chan rasps out, shuffling forward so the pretty pink head of his cock brushes against your folds.

“Oh god,” you whine at the contact. “Yes,” you blabber. “Ready, ‘m so ready Channie.”

Chan chuckles, moving his hips ever so slightly so the tip pushes into your throbbing cunt only barely before leaving you empty again. He’s teasing you, you can feel it, but watching the lust overtake his features, you know he won’t be able to hold out much longer. “I believe you baby,” he says quietly, securing one hand by your neck and the other at your waist. “Think you can take it?”

“Yeah,” you almost scoff. “‘course I can take it, I—oh.”

Shit, he’s so big, stretching out your pussy as his cock bullies its entire length into you until his balls are pressed to your skin. “What were you saying baby?” Chan chuckles again, using his grip on your neck to pepper kisses by your collarbone as you hiccup.

“Channie,” you gasp out as he stills inside of you. You’ve never felt so full of anything before, and it’s numbing all your senses, a burn exploding through your entire body as your eyes sting.

“Oh baby,” he coos condescendingly, when he pulls away and looks at you. “My poor baby,” he murmurs, rocking his hips into yours so slightly but it still punches moans out of your lungs. “My poor, poor baby—crying already?”

“C-can’t help it,” you whimper, eyes shut tight as Chan starts to pull out further now, leaving you empty around halfway before filling you right back up. You really, really can’t help it—the way the tears flow from your eyes as if that’s all you were made to do: cry for Chan and his words that are so mean yet so nice.

“I know baby …” he huffs out, the strain in his own voice apparent. Your cunt is sucking him and and he wonders how you could be so perfect, crying beneath him from just a few strokes and dirty words—you were fucking made for him. “My little crybaby … looks so cute when she cries.”

You don’t know why, but his words only make you cry harder, choking over your own strangled moans and broken pleas as you tap his forearm and intertwine your fingers with his again. Chan thinks this is it for him—he’s fucking into you, thrusting so mean, but here you are mewling his name and gripping onto his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“Perfect,” he growls, using the hand on your hip to push you down so he can jam his hips into yours faster. “You’re so fucking perfect—my pretty crybaby.”

Your gummy walls pulse around him, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tight your vision starts to grow hazy. Your tears fall onto your shirt and something about the small stains has Chan going into a frenzy, snapping his cock into you so hard you swear it kisses your cervix every single time.

“So-o-o full,” you gasp out, feeling tears drop on your lips. Chan leans down, capturing your wet lips in a hot kiss, licking the saltiness right from your mouth. “I—I can’t wait!” you cry out when he curves his thrust into that spot.

“Channie making you feel good?” he groans, your wetness starting to drip down his pelvis, a squelching sound filling the room from every slam of his hips.

“Amazing,” you choke. “Love it, love it so much.”

“So much it makes you cry, huh baby?” Chan whispers through his own heavy pants. “Love it, love it when you cry for me …”

You can’t think, you can’t feel anything except for his cock hammering down onto you as you bury your face into his chest. “Only you, only for you, Channie!”

“Fuckin’ better be. Only I get to see you like this, right baby? My pretty crybaby. Say it.”

“Yours! Your pretty cry baby!” you cry out as you clench down on him so tight Chan thinks he might bust on the spot.

“Fuck, yes baby, yes—that’s my good girl, crying on my cock.”

“Channie—Chan! ‘m gonna—ah!”

It hits you like a truck. When you cum, it’s with tears soaking his shirt as you blubber for the impending release, your cum fully creaming his cock and making an even bigger mess between your lower halves, as he fucks it all into you. The squeezing of your gummy walls around him is more than enough for his own eyes to be rolling to the back of his head and once he’s sure you’re fucked through, he slips out of you and wraps a hand around the base of his cock.

Your face is aflame and your mind buzzes but something about the way Chan’s hands looks so prettier around his even prettier cock as you shuffling to the ground and on your knees in front of him. Still sniffling from the onslaught of stimulation, you close your eyes and hold your tongue open for him as his cock twitches.

His seed hits you in thick ribbons of white, warm as some lands on your lips and tongue, some mixing with the rest of the wetness on your cheeks. As he cums, Chan mumbles your name under his breath in broken and whiny syllables, the sound echoing off the walls in a beautiful pattern.

As he looks down at you, his cock successfully milked dry, he thinks he might just pass out.

You’re the prettiest girl in the world like this, face coated in tears and his cum. And when your lips curve up in a dopey smile and you look at him with puffy eyes, Chan knows that he doesn’t mind a crybaby as long as it’s you.

[rayofmisfortune]

Throwing this ask over for if you ever want to ramble about Bendy ✨/nf (we are getting fed lately, 3 more games??? A movie??? Ink demon at a rave??? What???)

BENDY RAMBLE PERMISSION? OH HECK YEA!!

We are SO getting fed! I can't wait for what the games have in store for us. With The Cage supposed to release some time this year ANS THE MOVIE??? OH DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT!

I love the Bendy series to bits. Like actually

I've been keeping up with it since chapter 3 of BATIM- haven't read any of the books sadly but that can be excused right???

ANYWAY

The Cage is supposed to be a look behind the scenes at what happened on the other side of things while Audrey was busy explaining the concept of personal space to Wilson, if I remembee right? Also supposed to be darker and gorrier SUPER EXCITED FOR THAT

Then... in Secrets of the Machine we get teasers for B3ndy and Bendy Silent Town...

I hope B3ndy's gonna pick up on where BATDR left off, Gent taking away the Ink Machine to GOD KNOWS WHERE??? With Bendy now being out in the real world... it begs the question of who the role of big bad and smiling (traumatized, very much traumatized) will fall on... As for who we may play as.... maybe it could be this Riley Wells (hope I got the surname right) character we found out about in Secrets of the Machine? They ended up being a GENT employee so it's not completely out the question? They were employed at Joey Drew Studios before but- got fired because their ideas were too grotesque and dark for Joey's liking (EXCUSE THEM for having trauma you entrepreneur a-hole).

As for Bendy Silent Town... I feel like that game may be a look at mayhaps the genre of Bendy cartoons Riley had scripted? As I said, their ideas were dark. And what is Silent Town? A complete turn to the left at what Bendy games are. Unsure if the hand in the teaser image is Bendy's but- the char has a revolver named Alice FJFJ does that say anything? I dunno! Fjfjfj Getting to shoot cartoon bad guys in a cartoon tho? Aw heck yea! I suck at shooters but I'm willing to try my hand at one if it's Bendy

This is getting long lmfao

AH I haven't realized, but Secrets of the Machine came out on 4/14 (cuz- not american, use a different date format heh) which is the last loop that took place before Wilson or Audrey right? Some significance there

Oml I'm gonna fall into rambling about Bendy and the Ink Demon aren't I?

When you break all the cutouts in Secrets of the Machine, you get instakilled by the Ink Demon. Which. Deserved. I ended up doing that a lot cuz I didn't KNOW what I was supposed to do??? And destroying the cutouts was the quickest way out nfjfjc sorry Benders I promise it wasn't personal.

Anywho- yea it's been over a year YET I'M STILL NOT OVER HOW THE INK DEMON LITERALLY HAD BEEN TORTURED BY THE KEEPERS??? Like- YOU CAN'T JUST THROW THAT AT ME AND NOT EXPECT ME TO WEEP LIKE A BABY- My man's gone through literal hell even before he's been carelessly thrown into the machine "because he was imperfect" my ass, I bet the worst he ever did while in the Real world was walk around and be curious about everything while the only thing decisively threatening about him was his appearance... WHICH ALSO he had nothing to do with??? That's all on Joey and GENT for fucking up and only looking at the outside and not the inside. Is it obvious how much I need this guy to have a happy life?? He has a chance for that with Audrey now which I'm honestly so damn glad for nfnfnc Poor guy had been forced to follow a predetermined script where he was cast as the villain... tbf.. wouldn't anyone end up embracing that role when they've had to go through it for hundreds of loops?? I'd grow tired of trying to change anything as well.

Can... can you imagine? A little scene with Audrey and Bendy in B3ndy where they're just hanging out with eachother in Audrey's apartment.... PLEASE

Ah this got long hehe nfnfjfb

ALSO still not over Henry. My favorite father figure. Pls be a dad to them I beg

I STILL DUNNO WHAT THE RAVE IS ABT 😭😭 Haven't seen anything abt it YET- BUT AYYYYY

AND OML YEA THE MOVIE PLEASE GIB SOME BEFORE THE INK WORLD SNIPPETS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE?? Could you imagine? Just- getting to see how the studio was before it all went to hell??? I- GETTING TO SEE THE PROGRESS ON THE INK MACHINE??? MAYBE EVEN BENDY'S CREATION????? And and oml SAMMY before he went "My Lord, My Saviour, coocoo in the head" THE VAST WORLD OF POSSIBILITIES

[madsworld15]

Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me Chapter 3 Part 2: June

QAF, Brian x Justin, Asexual Spectrum Representation, Season 2 re-telling. Part 2: 3k words

As always, thank you @winderlylandchime and @maryp50 for your support.

“What is your problem?!” Brian tried his best to keep himself from exploding.

“Nothing, I just think it’s weird how we are all bending over backward to make sure he’s comfortable.” Michael didn’t care about yelling. “When I broke up with David, no one batted an eye. No one cared!”

“This is why you’re upset? We didn’t hug you and say, Poor Mikey, his relationship fell apart?” Brian shook his head and left the table. He went to Debbie’s backyard so that he could have a smoke.

A few seconds later, Michael followed him.

“You don’t get to just walk away!” Mikey yelled at him, his perturbed facial expression on the verge of being comical.

“I wasn’t invested in your pity party. You’re comparing apples to oranges, Mikey. A breakup sucks but is nowhere near on the same level as nearly dying!” Brian glared at his best friend.

“I’m your best friend. It’s always supposed to be me and you against the world.”

“You left first. In case you forgot, once you started seeing Dr. David, he felt threatened by me, so he convinced you to stop hanging out with us!”

“He wasn’t threatened! And besides, that's not the same thing.” Mikey stomped his foot and clenched his fists. 

Brian shook his head, took a drag from his cigarette, and laughed. “How is your relationship different from me looking after Justin?”

Michael stood there thinking for a moment. Brian knew he would have to say something he dreaded in order to prove his point.

“You don’t get it, Mikey. I’m in a relationship with Justin. I care about him. And in case you forgot, you stood there and watched while those guys beat the shit out of him. He almost died.” Brian took another long drag from his cigarette. “So excuse me if I’m not scrambling to stroke your ego about your failed relationship with the good doctor.”

Brian half expected Michael to walk off in a huff bent on complaining to his mother. Instead, he stepped even closer to Brian and started yelling at the top of his lungs.

“YOU WANT TO BLAME ME FOR WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THEY ATTACKED?!”

“FUCK YOU MIKEY!” Brian put all his energy into not succumbing to the guilt Michael was trying to stir up. “I’M THE ONE WHO GRABBED AND PUSHED THEM OFF OF HIM. IT’S BECAUSE OF ME THE AMBULANCE WAS CALLED!”

Brian dropped his cigarette at that point and calmed down slightly to try and get the upper hand in the argument. “You have never liked him. You have always been jealous of him, and it got in the way of you actually being the kind person I know you are.”

“I’m not fucking jealous. I just don’t like the person he’s changing you into. The Brian Kinney I know doesn’t do relationships. He sucks and fucks and doesn’t give his heart to anyone.” Mikey calmed down slightly, too, but Brian knew something bigger was coming.

“People change, Mikey. They grow up.” Brian sighed. 

“That’s a laugh. The poster boy for childishness and immaturity telling me how people change. Well, don’t kid yourself. You’re incapable of change.”

“YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT MATURITY? YOU LET YOUR JEALOUSY GET IN THE WAY OF HELPING JUSTIN THAT NIGHT! YOU FUCKING FROZE MIKEY!” Brian knew he was reacting a bit dramatically, but it was either this or punch Michael in the face.

“You’re right. I froze up. But you’re putting the blame on me when it’s not even my place to look out for him. You’re only with him right now out of the guilt you feel.” Brian watched as Michael walked away toward the house, passing Justin as he went.

Brian pulled out a second cigarette and lit it up. His chest felt tight, and he could hardly breathe; not exactly the best time to be smoking, but he needed to let out some of his frustration, or else he risked saying the wrong thing to Justin. The blonde inched closer to him and put his hand out, silently asking for a drag, too. Brian acquiesced, extending his hand out to Justin’s.

“Is that why I’m here?” Justin’s voice finally came, smaller than Brian could have ever imagined.

“Mikey’s just jealous.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the answer Justin was looking for, and Brian knew it. He still didn’t have his head on straight, and so that was all he could offer.

Brian blew out some smoke, handed the rest of the cigarette to Justin, and walked back into the house. He knew he was fucking everything up big time, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. Justin’s security was something that meant the world to Brian, but right now, he is extremely hurt by the actions of his best friend. Having been raised by two verbally cruel alcoholics, Brian was used to hurtful words, but in the almost two decades that he’d known Michael, they’d never once come from him until now. Tears stung at the back of Brian’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. 

He walked into the kitchen and pulled Debbie aside. She looked him up and down, confused. Michael was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well. Brian couldn’t handle seeing him right now.

“Could Justin stay here tonight?” Brian choked on his words, but he knew it was best for both of them. “I just…I need some space.”

Debbie, bless her heart, didn’t question him for a single moment. Instead, she wrapped him in her arms and whispered. “Don’t you dare believe a word my ungrateful son said to you. Go get your head on straight. I’ll look after Sunshine.” Then she planted a kiss on his cheek, and that was that. 

Justin POV

Justin finished up Brian’s cigarette. Not because he still wanted it but because he could tell Brian needed time to make his escape without any attention. Justin figured Brian needed a few minutes to cool off, and then they would go back to his loft for the night, calling the festivities a wash. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked back into Debbie’s kitchen was to see her and Vic sitting around the table and Brian nowhere to be found. Justin couldn’t even hear him in another corner of the home. He looked around, confused. Mel and Lindsay must’ve left, too, because they and the baby were also gone. Emmett was still lingering in the front room, but with his coat on, he appeared to be on his way out with Ted.

Vic cleared his throat, capturing Justin’s attention. He barely knew the older man but could already tell he had a good, kind soul.

“Why don’t you sit and have some dessert? It’s chocolate cream pie.” Vic pushed a small plate with a hefty slice toward the spot at the table closest to Justin.

He took a deep breath and plopped down.

“Brian asked if you could stay here tonight.” Debbie finally said, her voice taking on that motherly tone Justin had always been able to trust. 

After placing a bite in his mouth, he chewed and looked between the brother and sister. His heart fell. Ever since Michael had said what he did, he’d been hanging onto a faint hope that the man was wrong and Brian was just a terrible communicator.

“So, Michael was right,” Justin stated once he’d swallowed his bite. He sniffed and coughed to will his emotions not to make themselves known.

“No,” Vic responded fervently. “My nephew…” He started and then stopped as if he wasn’t sure how exactly to say what needed to be said.

“I don’t know how much you know about Brian, but you have to understand that he was raised in a home where words of cruelty and malice were used to communicate. Brian never learned how to express his emotions properly. So, he shut that part of himself down a very long time ago. Usually, when something gets under his walls, he bites back using words of hurt and pain. But he doesn’t want to do that to you.” Vic finally managed.

Not really knowing who Vic was or where he was coming from, Justin had a very hard time believing him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I have seen Brian be short-sighted and sharp to men who expect more than a one-time ride with him. His words could cut down even the strongest-willed person.” Vic gave Justin a small smile before he continued. “But, tonight, Michael said what he said to Brian, and instead of lashing out at anyone, Brian went home.”

“But not before making sure you were looked after,” Debbie muttered quietly.

“He might not be able to say it or even admit it, but Brian cares about you.” Vic continued. “He never lets anyone stay the night, much less live with him.”

Justin sat there, quietly contemplating what Vic had just said and eating the rest of his pie. The kitchen fell silent, but it wasn’t a cold silence; it was comforting. In fact, Justin kind of felt like he was back in his own mom’s kitchen while she cooked dinner and he drew a picture. It was a nice thought, but soon enough, it broke his heart.

“What is he still doing here?” Michael announced his presence.

Justin looked up in time to see Debbie stand up, wagging a finger at her grown son. 

“Michael Charles Novotny! I think you’ve done more than enough this evening. Go home!” 

Michael started to protest, but then, with one look from Debbie, he turned around and walked out the front door.

“So,” Debbie turned to Justin and gave him a smile. “How are your hand exercises coming along? Gonna come back to the diner soon?”

“My hand exercises?” Justin looked confused from Vic to Debbie and back. “You guys know about that?”

“Brian talks.” Vic shrugged and grabbed all the plates to take them to the sink.

“He does?” Justin felt like he was learning more and more about the man he was sharing a living arrangement with than he ever imagined there was to learn.

“To Emmett.” Debbie clarified with a swat at her brother as he walked past her. “And then Emmett titters on about it all to us.”

Justin grinned at his lap with a chuckle. “Okay, that makes much more sense.”

“Em said you were struggling with seeing the purpose of doing them.” Vic sat back down at the table.

Justin looked at him, really looked at him. At that moment, he saw a man who understood. A man who would never say it out loud but could see his perspective and frustration.

“You know, when I first got sick, like really sick, I had to quit my job as a chef in New York City. It was terrifying times, and my boss wasn’t willing to see reason, let alone have compassion for my needs.” Vic started, his voice even and soft.

“I needed work in order to afford my medical bills, but I could hardly stand up some days because my whole body was at war with itself.” He continued.

“I would send him as much money as I could at first,” Debbie spoke up.

Justin hung onto their every word. He’d heard all about AIDS and HIV from science class and the after-school queer group he went to in secret a few years ago. But he’d never experienced someone who lived with it. Justin wanted to learn everything he could from Vic. 

“For a while, I managed to make things work, but then I got so sick I couldn’t afford to live on my own anymore. So, I moved back home, and here I am. It’s hard having to give up your autonomy for something you never asked for. So, fight like hell to get it back.”

“Vic’s never backed down from his fight. He was on death’s doorstep not two years ago. Look at him now! He’s baking again, and pretty soon, he’ll be working, too. Just you wait and see.” Debbie cupped Vic’s cheek and gave him a warm, loving smile.

“Thanks, sis.” Vic returned the smile. “Justin, don’t give up. Where there’s a will, there is always a way. Even if it’s not the same way as before.” 

Vic gave him a wink and added, “Besides, you’re much too beautiful to hide yourself away forever.”

Justin ducked his head with a blush and smiled at his lap.

Brian POV

Brian walked into the backroom at Babylon, looking for his prey for the evening. He needed someone that would allow him to be unrelenting and rough. He was angry at Michael, but more importantly, he was angry at himself. 

Justin had somehow gotten in under his walls, and it terrified Brian. While Michael rarely ever fought back whenever Brian used him as an emotional release valve. This time had been different, and they both knew it.

Brian looked around and found his prey. He was a scrawny man, similar in build to Emmett but shorter. The twink had bright eyes and an enthusiasm that told Brian he would be willing to do just about anything Brian asked. Brian smirked as he bracketed the guy with his arms.

“Hey,” Brian nodded at him. “You look like you’re here for a good time.” 

Mr. Bright Eyes nodded way more times than was necessary. Brian shook his head and flipped him around so that he faced the wall. Without much more spoken between them, Brian whipped out a condom and his dick and penetrated Mr. Bright Eyes.

A few hours later, Brian stumbled his way into his loft after paying the cab driver more than enough for the ride, having left his Jeep parked on the street near Babylon. He dropped his keys no less than five times as he tried to unlock the door. If Justin had been home, Brian was sure he would’ve woken him up with how loud and uncoordinated he was being. For a fleeting second, Brian considered he might have a drinking problem, but then, much like every other thought after his fifth shot of whiskey, it fizzled and disappeared.

Brian stopped at his desk, where he spotted the picture of him and Michael about a decade before, having just gone to Babylon for the first time. There was a gentle innocence to how they smiled together, sucking on milkshakes at the Liberty Diner. Fuck, they were practically kids there. 

Brian snorted and then lobbed the frame toward his door. It hit the metal with a resounding thunk and fell to the floor, where the glass in it shattered. A crack now sat over the top of their faces.

Much like our friendship. Cracked and broken. Probably never to be repaired.

Brian crossed to his answering machine where there was a flashing 2 beckoning to him. His brain was extremely fuzzy, so he was sure none of what these messages said would stick, but he played them nonetheless.

The first one was from Michael.

Brian. I know you went home. Jesus, are we really never going to talk again? You’re just pissed because I’m being honest with you, and you don’t like it. Justin is changing you. You're forgetting who you are and what makes you happy. You meet this blonde twink, and all of a sudden, it’s adopt-a-trick, and you’ve stopped fucking everything that moves. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Are you really going to end all that for some trick who won’t even let you fuck him?

Brian ended the message and immediately deleted it. The next one was much more pleasant. It was from Justin.

Good night, Brian. I know our arrangement is that I sleep on the bed, and you sleep on the couch. Tonight you can sleep on the bed, it is yours after all. Anyway, Vic and Debbie told me I shouldn’t worry that you were just overwhelmed by everything and needed some time. I get that. I get so overwhelmed sometimes my hand starts to shake and I can’t get it to stop. Anyway, please sleep. You need it.

Brian couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his lips. It was just after 10 pm, and had only left Debbie’s a few hours prior, but he already missed Justin’s incessant talking. Even when Brian wasn’t listening to him, the younger man would go on and on about whatever topic of conversation interested him at that moment. 

Before Justin moved in, Brian never would’ve guessed that he’d actually crave the presence of someone else in his loft. There was so much about Justin that didn’t make sense to Brian. And yet, he couldn’t get enough. The thought of coming home to Justin every day got him through some of the worst client interactions he could imagine. For the first time in Brian’s life, he knew what it was like to have someone actually interested in what he had to say and cared how he felt.

Brian decided it wasn’t too late to call Justin back. Debbie’s house was open at all hours for any of her boys. After two rings, Debbie answered and then called Justin to pick up the line.

“Hello.” Justin’s voice came through the speaker. Brian felt his drunkenness melt away and his brain clear.

“I just wanted to call you back to wish you a good night.” Brian sucked his lips in over his teeth, “And to see if you were okay.”

Brian knew he should apologize, but that wasn’t something he did. Apologies were useless.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Vic fed me some chocolate pie, which always makes everything better.” Justin chuckled softly.

“Yeah, Vic’s desserts are pretty great.” Brian agreed, his smile stretching as he lay down on the bed on Justin’s side.

“How would you know? In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you eat anything remotely unhealthy.” Justin’s tone was playful, and Brian found himself wishing he was in the loft with him.

“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it never happens.” Brian stretched, putting his arm behind his head. “Besides, I’ve known Vic most of my life. I used to live on nothing but sugar and blow jobs when I was a teenager.”

“Sure you did.” Justin shot back, not believing a word Brian uttered.

“Ask him if you don’t believe me.” Brian loved how easy it was to talk to Justin and how much fun he had doing it.

“Maybe,” Justin paused to yawn. “Maybe I will. I think I’m going to stay here while you’re in Chicago. I’ll have Debbie bring me by the loft in the morning for some clothes.”

“Okay.” Brian didn’t say it out loud, but he was relieved Justin chose to stay with someone. Based on Justin’s final words he knew that Justin heard him loud and clear, regardless.

“You don’t have to worry now.” Justin yawned again. “Anyway, good night. Best of luck in Chicago.”

[coramatus]

there were no instructions or fine print (part 6)

“To restore the lost, find my form and sacrifice yours”

Or

That time Ingo got turned into a Sneasel because there were no instructions or fine print on the ancient mystical artifact

Based on ideas of the Transfer Error AU by @rosebloodcat on Tumblr

part one | two | three | four | five | six

scribbling

tw/cw: depiction of a mental breakdown

The second that Emmet steps back into the apartment, he finds himself unceremoniously ambushed. He shouts in alarm as a horde of Pokémon practically pounce on him all at once. His many heavily-laden grocery bags are deftly snatched from his grasp and passed down from one to another until his hands are left bare. Emmet gapes at the Pokémon in bewildered confusion and starts to say something about their sudden desire to help with chores when Chandelure and Eelektross both barrel into him from behind.

“What has gotten into you guys?!” Emmet yelps as he is shoved to the living room.

Neither Pokémon pays him any mind and eagerly pushes him towards the sofa. Totally unprepared for this, Emmet goes stumbling forwards with a yelp, tripping over his own feet and landing gracelessly on his face. Groaning, he is about to give the two a piece of his mind when he hears a chirrup over his head.

Freezing in place, Emmet slowly raises his eyes to find Ingo sitting on the couch, awake, alert, and peering down at him with perked ears.

“I-Ingo! You are finally up-!” Emmet says, offering a faintly apprehensive smile as he gets back to his feet. He reaches out to pet the Sneasel’s head but stops short from making contact. For a second, his hand hovers there in indecision before quickly withdrawing.

“Ah, you probably would rather not be touched yet,” he mutters, taking a step back, carefully avoiding eye contact to seem less threatening.

Ingo watches him do this and feels his ears lowering in disappointment. Emmet must think he’s still that hissing, spitting Sneasel he rescued back in the forest. Frankly, Ingo doesn’t blame him for being cautious, but it is a bit disheartening…

Well, no matter. He’ll fix that soon enough.

He holds up a whiteboard and squeaks loudly to get his brother’s attention. Sure enough, Emmet’s head jerks up from brushing himself off to stare in confusion at Ingo. Seeing nothing terribly wrong, he looks away again.

Only to do a double-take.

Because written in dry-erase marker on the whiteboard are the words:

HI EMMET

The script is wobbly, messy, and oversized, but unmistakable.

Emmet’s jaw drops as he stares at the words, his eyes widening in shock. With visible effort, he tears his gaze away from the board to look at Ingo.

Ingo looks back up at him, his broken ear feather perked with hope.

“I-Ingo…?” Emmet’s voice trembles.

He receives a loud squeak in return as Ingo nods excitedly, a small hopeful smile lighting up his face.

Ingo can hear Emmet’s breathing picking up as it slowly sinks in. His eyes shine with forming tears as the corners of his mouth twitch upward, a choked laugh escaping him.

But the next words to come out of his mouth are a slap to Ingo’s face.

“N-No… Th-this can’t be real…!” Emmet says breathlessly between increasingly pitched, hysterical laughter, “I’ve finally lost my mind-!”

Ingo’s heart falls to his stomach. He calls out to his brother, “E-Emmet?!”

The sound of his frightened squeak only makes Emmet back away with shaking steps, his eyes wide and unfocused. His mouth is technically still smiling, but there is no joy in it, only panic. His laughter is worse: a hollow brittle cackle, cracking around the edges and growing steadily louder and more frenzied. He doesn’t even seem to notice his back hitting a wall, falling into a manic laughing heap as his legs give out from under him.

“No, no, it never works like this…! Good things aren’t supposed to happen to me-!” Emmet frantically mutters to no one as his laughs finally crumble into whimpers. He draws his knees up to his face to curl into a ball. His fingers grip his messy, gray hair, tears spilling from unseeing eyes as he rambles, “I’m dreaming! This isn’t real-! It’s not real!”

Ingo has never felt as useless as he does now. His long lost brother is falling to pieces before him and he has no idea what to do. All he knows is that he needs to do something.

Struggling to his paws, Ingo has to clutch his aching side as he clambers down from the couch and limps over to Emmet. He doesn’t need to move very far when Eelektross offers a clawed fin for him to hold onto.

With Eelektross’s help, the short trek to Emmet’s side is far less arduous. Emmet is still curled up, wailing into his arms, ignorant of their presence as they approach him.

“I-I’ve never seen him like this…” Eelektross frets as he watches Ingo let go of his fin and limp to Emmet’s side.

“I do not understand what is happening here either,” Ingo admits, watching Emmet with heartbreak in his eyes. His small frame straightens as his iron resolve guides him forward, “But if his derailment has to do with me, perhaps I can help him get his train re-railed.”

Not that he has any idea how to do that.

But he has to try.

What kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t?

That thought tickles a faint memory at the back of his mind, one where Emmet had been almost as inconsolable. It had to do with a break-up, one of his worst. Ingo remembers offering to punch in the ex’s teeth, but Emmet’s response stuck with him.

“I need my big brother to hug me, not run off and commit assault!” he had wailed.

So Ingo did exactly as his little brother asked.

Looking down at his claws, Ingo wonders how he’s going to do that here as a rather small Sneasel. Although, if there was one thing Hisuian Sneasels excelled at, it was climbing.

Before he can second guess himself, Ingo is already clambering up Emmet’s form, heedless of any holes his claws make in his clothes. Framed between his brother’s bent arm is a small window exposing his ear and cheek. Ingo pulls himself up to Emmet’s covered face and aggressively nuzzles this spot, hoping the physical contact gets through to him.

Ingo feels a touch of relief when Emmet finally looks up at him.

However, his stare is bleak and filled with pain.

Ingo noses Emmet’s face in worry.

“I’m sorry… but please go away,” Emmet hoarsely whispers. He buries his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking violently as he sobs, “I can’t do this anymore… How am I supposed to stay on track if the gauges keep changing on me?? Are you dead? Are you alive? Are you a Sneasel? Are you still you??”

“I am! I’m here! Please, you have to believe me, Emmet!!” Ingo pleads with him, even as he hears his own words come out as more distressed, chittering squeaks.

But Emmet just curls up on himself further, crying, “Please… this is too cruel…! I can’t take it!”

Listening to his brother cry, Ingo’s ears droop as he reluctantly releases his hold on Emmet, dropping back onto the floor. He’s doing more harm than good this way.

He hadn’t realized just how much his disappearance had sent Emmet’s life into turmoil.

Emmet worked in absolutes. The inclusion of ifs and maybes was never good enough. Ingo was either alive and there or he was dead and gone. Emmet could work with either. But to be caught in limbo for years with no real answers must have driven him to the brink of insanity.

Add to that the entire Sneasel situation?

Ingo isn’t sure he would have done any better in Emmet’s position.

His baby brother has been hurting for a very long time.

This can not stand.

Taking a quick look around, Ingo is a little frustrated to see that he left the whiteboard on the couch. Just as he’s about to make the walk back, the board and its marker are wreathed in cool purple flames, floating up into the air and directly into his claws. He looks up to Chandelure and nods to them in thanks before getting to work.

By now, Emmet’s crying has died down to sniffling whimpers. It still takes a few pokes of his knee to make him look up and find Ingo holding up a new message:

EMMET THIS IS REAL IT’S ME INGO I SWEAR

“Prove it,” Emmet answers thickly, his tired, reddened eyes staring into Ingo’s, “Tell me something only my brother would know.”

That gives Ingo pause. He taps the edge of the board nervously, his ears folded back. Emmet has no idea how much of a tall order that is. He might as well tell him so….

WILL BE DIFFICULT HAD AMNESIA

Emmet scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you did…” he shakes his head with a wet cough, sniffling as he wipes his face on his sleeve, “That is just perfect…”

Frowning at his reaction, Ingo goes digging through his freshly unearthed memories. He can recall a phrase that often characterized his brother best. What was it again…? Oh! Right!

Emmet’s kneecap is poked again by the board and he looks over at the new message.

YOU LIKE WINNING MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE

“That is verrry general,” Emmet mutters lifelessly, “Lots of people like winning.”

Ingo feels his spirits drop. He’d been proud to remember that. He scribbles another message out.

NOT SURE HOW ELSE TO PROVE IT TO YOU

“Then don’t,” Emmet’s dull wavering voice told Ingo. In despair, he buries his face in his arms, his words small and muffled as he whimpers to himself, “This is all just a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and you will still be gone no matter what I do…”

This is going downhill so quickly. He needs to remember! Something only the two of them were aware of… Maybe something they only did with each other? Or something that meant a great deal to them both…?

Gradually, a faint memory starts to surface. Of a subtle protocol repeated between them so many times that it was almost muscle memory. A low-key signal to each other to request aid. But along with it came a very specific memory of the protocol’s origin.

Without another thought, Ingo bites his brother.

It isn’t a hard bite, just a sharp nip on the muscle of his left shoulder with no skin broken. Emmet’s hoodie received more damage from his claws climbing up to his shoulder than he himself did.

Their odd little signal had developed from when they were much younger, back when their years were still in the single digits. The inciting incident had long been lost to the passage of time but the motivation was simple: Emmet was overwhelmed, too young to know how to properly express it, and Ingo had been ignoring him. Unable to communicate his feelings, he acted in the only way he knew would get attention: by biting his brother as hard as he could.

It ended in Ingo’s shoulder needing stitches.*

Emmet had been beside himself, hiding away in shame while Ingo was in the hospital. He’d hurt his big brother over basically nothing. He felt like a monster.

But the moment Ingo came home, he practically tore the house apart looking for his scared little brother. The second he found Emmet, he tackled him in a loud crying hug. Even at the age of six, he easily forgave his one and only brother no matter what.

From then on, all Emmet ever had to do was lightly squeeze Ingo’s left shoulder whenever he felt overwhelmed and needed help to find some space. Sometimes the roles even reversed and Emmet never once questioned him.

Even as he hops off Emmet, Ingo can hear his breathing shift. Turning to look up at his brother, he finds that Emmet is now staring at him, eyes wide. With barely a whisper, he says,

“I-Ingo?”

Ingo sheepishly writes in a new message.

REMEMBERED THAT JUST NOW

Wordlessly, Emmet reaches out with a shaking hand and touches Ingo’s cheek. His touch is featherlight, uncertain, so Ingo presses his face into the cup of his palm, looking up at his brother and projecting as much love as he can.

Something in Emmet’s expression seems to crumple as he lets out a soft, choked laugh. But where before he looked at Ingo with terror and paranoia, now a dawning wonder is slowly spreading across his face.

“How…?” he whispers, his thumb softly tracing Ingo’s facial markings.

Ingo smiles back warmly at his brother as he writes something new on his board.

EMMET I AM BACK AND I AM HERE FOR YOU

A small wobbly smile appears on Emmet’s once stricken face, a spark of hope returning.

“Y-you’re really here…? This is real?”

Ingo nods emphatically. He quickly scrawls out a new message.

I PROMISE I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU AGAIN

Emmet bites his lip in an attempt to keep his composure. But he quickly gives in and scoops Ingo up in a big weeping hug. Holding him tight to his chest, yet still mindful of the injuries, Emmet cries into Ingo’s fur as years of repressed pain come spilling out. In a voice only Ingo hear, he whispers a litany of apologies,

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m so so sorry…”

Ingo simply hugs Emmet back, his smaller arms embracing his brother’s neck. He nuzzles the side of his face, a burst of overjoyed purring escaping him as his breath hitches. He feels tears forming in the corners of his eyes as something finally seems to go right for them both.

———————————

As Ingo and Emmet were engaged in their proper reunion, their Pokémon helped put the shopping away. A bit messily and some food was definitely snuck off but overall a decent enough job.

Then Emmet’s breakdown happened.

They all wanted to help but Chandelure and Eelektross held them back. Adding twelve Pokémon to the mix was not going to help anyone. Not when Emmet was having a meltdown. Most retreated to their balls, reluctantly agreeing that it wasn’t something they could help with right then. Only Chandelure and Eelektross stayed out to monitor their trainers, making sure things didn’t get too out of hand.

From the sounds of things, the two must have come to some kind of understanding for the apartment was now quiet, save for the natural sounds of the building.

Eelektross is the first to poke his head out into the living room. What he finds makes him gasp and gesture to Chandelure to come over and take a look too. The scene they find makes them let out a heartfelt ‘aww’.

Emmet lays asleep on the couch, curled up protectively around Ingo’s slumbering form.

As the two Pokémon float over to check on them, Ingo’s feathered ear flicks and rouses him enough to look up and find them there. He offers them a sleepy smile,

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Anything for you two,” Chandelure reassures him. In a more somber tone, they add, “I’m just glad you kept Emmet from spiraling any further. He’s never gotten this bad before…”

A thoughtful look crosses Ingo’s face. He clearly has questions. And difficult ones at that.

Just as he starts to say something, he abruptly stops and frowns. Before either of them can ask what’s wrong, an enormous yawn escapes him. Ingo limply plops his head against Emmet’s chest with a confused grumble.

“I don’t get it…” he whines to them, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, “It’s only noon. Why am I so sleepy? I barely did anything…”

Eelektross chuckles at him, “Hey, now, you're just a little elver right now! And an injured one at that. Your body needs sleep to grow and heal.”

All that earns Eelektross is Ingo blinking dumbly at him, looking lost.

Realizing their trainer might not be aware of certain circumstances, Chandelure chimes in, “I don’t know if you know this, but your body is just a juvenile right now. A Sneasel… hmm, what was the word again?” They tap a curled metal arm against their glass thoughtfully, “A… uh, kit? Right, that’s the word! A kit!”

“B-But… but I’m an adult…” Ingo protests, even as he squeaks from another big yawn.

“Not with this body. Not anymore,” Chandelure gently points out.

The notion seems to take a little longer for Ingo to process as he looks down at himself, puzzled, “I thought I was just small…”

“Nope!” Eelektross cheerfully informs him, “But think of it this way: you get to grow up again!”

The look of dismay on Ingo’s face is enough to make the two snicker at him.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” he groans like a petulant child fighting bedtime, “Ugh, nooo… puberty was the worst. Can I skip that station this time?”

“Probably not,” Eelektross quips.

“You’re no help…” Ingo grumbles, already sinking back into slumber.

Chandelure softly pats his head, “Just go to sleep, Ingo.”

Ingo doesn’t offer any more words besides an annoyed mumble. With the pull of sleep dragging his eyes closed, his mind drifts off to the warmth of his brother’s embrace.

*It actually helped explain something he’d long wondered about in Hisui. A scar on his left shoulder, two mirrored, almost crescent lines long gone pale and smooth with age. Lines shaped suspiciously like a human’s bite. Examining it only ever brought out a knot of emotions that flashed by too quickly to be quantified.

[valeriasfragments]

Fragments About Sacramento and the Castle

[1]

She's standing at baggage claim turnstile of Sacramento International Airport sending her 13th unanswered text while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. 

Crestfallen and broken by the deafening silence. She wants the girl she has fallen in love with to at least answer her phone and reject her directly but instead she never hears from her again. Aching, wounding silence.

She wheels her baggage into a bathroom stall and cries so hard she feels like she's going to throw up, even gags a few times, her knees wet from the disgusting bathroom floor. 

This one hurts her for a long time, years of wondering what she could have done differently. She goes over every wrong thing she said.

They had talked for hours and hours, made each other laugh long into the night at the possibilities of the future they were growing together, and she never plans a future again, too afraid to curse all the good things she ever wanted.

And now she's here retching into the large bathroom stall, doesn't know what she is going to do since her return flight is 15 days away, 15 days she was supposed to spend with the love her life, or who she thought was the love of her life, now just a ghost in the shape of a pretty girl. 

She's trembling when she stands, spent too long on her knees and now they threaten to dislocate themselves under her weight. She leans in the corner of the stall for a few minutes, waiting for the blood to recirculate, and spends some time soaking up the piss from her knees.

When she gets back out to the curb she is crying again but now it's a gentle leak of her face dripping on her shirt. She starts texting everyone she knows in the city and luckily her friend takes her in for the duration of her stay, the endless kindness and generosity of the girl who loves cows with the rambunctious but lovable dog. She sees her first Rocky Horror shadow cast, eats amazing food, and makes the best of things as they were.

[2]

"So what brought you to Sacramento?" She asks from the bar, her bar. Her apartment is very nice, probably the nicest domicile I have ever been in. She has a great view of the town here as I sit on a white leather couch less than 10 feet from the bar, her bar. 

"Oh, just a little vacation in a city I always wanted to visit." I lie, not wanting to ruin the mood with more crying. I just wanted to do something fun, maybe memorable, and so I am doing something I would never normally do. 

Not that long ago I was standing in a dingy rented dance studio watching the Rocky Horror shadow cast rehearsals. My pervert brain is trying so hard to not look at the gorgeous woman changing mere feet from me and I almost fail, but I am saved from my own deviance when my dating profile receives a notification. “Hey, I’m a little drunk and you’re a lot cute, wanna come over and chill with me?”

I've been chatting with this girl for a few days, I'm gonna call her June because it's not even close to her real name, and I let loose that I would be in town for about 2 weeks and she told me to let her know when I had free time. And I do. I did. “I’d really like that :3 ”. Like I said I'm not a one night stand kind of gal, but I am trying to experience new things.

I meet her at the curb and she pulls up in one of those James Bond rich guy cars, a Bentley maybe, it's not important and I’m not a car gal. What is important is the car is easily over $100 grand. 

“Get in, cutie.” She smiles at me, takes a drag off her cigarette, I hear the automatic lock disengage the mechanism, and I fumble awkwardly with the door handle. I throw myself in, I am just closing the door and we are off like a rocket sending me scrambling for my seat belt.

I don’t immediately notice, it’s a block or two, but she’s very obviously intoxicated, too intoxicated to drive, and now I am in this car with her. And she is driving like a maniac. The entire time I'm trying to act natural while I am on the verge of screaming. 

Oh and this is where she mentions that her family owns a fucking castle in Scotland. She definitely has a faint British accent, a Brit would tell me where exactly it originally came from and how posh she sounded. Also she talks a million miles an hour.

When we get to her apartment I finally get a good look at her, everyone looks a little different in person vs photos, something to do with perspective probably. And my goodness she is incredible looking, I fight to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

June is a 5’1'' Asian girl, black hair braided down to the middle of her back, sexy black dress with the super hot leg slit that is my FAVORITE, and a clutch purse decorated with glittery skulls. Her thick black lipstick stains her clove cigarettes when she takes a drag, and she wore sunglasses but was always looking over them to see.

She pours me like a scotch or something, I hardly drink it because that was never my thing. She puts a hand on my knee at some point and my anxiety almost escapes my mouth but I choke it down. My heart is beating a million miles an hour. This is so new to me, I am dying inside and incredibly turned on; a maelstrom in my mind. I am afraid of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing, I don’t know how to act cool, calm or collected and I’m not a one night stand kind of gal.

Near trembling I think she senses my apprehension. She leans in, our lips meet, I can feel her hot breath on me, it reeks of alcohol, she leaves a bit of lipstick on my lips, I can taste her cloves, and then…  and then she pulls away, runs to the balcony and vomits the contents of her stomach off her balcony above the city. She calls a cab to take me home after a few tears and a million apologies. She never talks to me again. 

[ettaevie]

I know Chuuya x Shirase is unpopular for obvious reasons but if we think of their relationship as a middle school romance then their entire dynamic and everything that happens between them becomes par for the course

[38riku]

never forget

synopsis — trying to end the “relationship” with your professor gojo satoru is harder than you expected

warnings — 18+ content minors do not interact. age gap (reader is 21) breeding. pet name. mentions of alcohol. office sex.

the first time was a mistake. you were drunk and looking for a good time which is how you found yourself entangled with your professor the next morning. you woke up scrambling, gathering your things and leaving, not noticing the clothes you wore were in fact his until you made it back on campus.

the second time you were clear headed. events of that night played through your head like a broken record, many parts were blurred but a few held crystalline details that had you squirming in your seat. his long, teasing digits had you writhing under him as he stretched you out. normally loud and boisterous voice was replaced with a candy-coated tone that made you putty in his hands. and his eyes — a scintillating sapphire that made pleasurable shivers run up your spine whenever he gave you that look.

you were laid on the plush couch he kept in his office that day. his face buried beneath your skirt as he devoured you senseless. nose brushing the oversensitive bud to elicit the sweet sounds that inflated his ego. having the prettiest thing on campus falling apart on his tongue and coating his chin with her juices.

this continued for the entire semester until you started seeing someone. you began to bail on him more and more and when he caught word that some absolute douche of a guy was dating you, pissed was an understatement. his homework assignments became lengthier, tests and quizzes growing in difficulty, to the point where you were falling behind.

the only issue being that you were the only one facing this problem.

confronting him was the only option. you practiced your argument more times than you could count, but here you stood, dumbstruck at his audacity and patience growing thinner and thinner each time he opened those filthy lips of his.

“you know you can get fired for this or even put in jail.” you huffed, sick of the overconfidence he emitted. it was as if he thought he was above all consequence or law. the rules not applying to him because he was gojo satoru — the most esteemed educator on the east coast.

his brow raised, almost daring as he rested his palm beneath his chin. “I am well aware that I could be fired. but what about you?”

“it was consensual after all, and sleeping with someone like me is bound to make headlines. you’ll be known as the girl who slept with her professor, exposing their relationship because … the workload is too much? is that right?”

your mouth went dry at his words. the thought never crossed your mind that everyone would know, you being the resident slut on campus, kissing graduate school and your pride goodbye. how would your parents — reluctant to send you here in the first place — react?

you had no idea you were crying until you felt him wipe them away, his touch gentle and dare say affectionate as he cupped your cheek. “poor little bunny, thinking you were all big and bad threatening me like that.“

you swatted his hand away, frustrated tears continuing to fall from your eyes. “don’t call me bunny, I don’t hop and you don’t own me.”

the corners of his lip quirked upward in a smile as he took a few steps back, leaning on his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “i don’t? as far as I’m concerned, your entire reputation— academic and social — is in my hands, is it not?”

gojo watched as you gnawed on your bottom lip, thinking the predicament you were in that was undoubtedly in his favor. your fist unclenching and clenching at your side as a mixture of hurt and anger befell your features.

he would never do that to you. you worked too hard, your determination and ambition unmatched. but what was he supposed to do? waking up with you beside him the next morning made him feel something he has never felt. and he was sure if you gave him a chance you’d feel the same way.

“do you regret it?” your eyes snapped up to his, his melancholic tone taking you by surprise. “I would have liked for us to be sober but other than that,” holding out his hand he gave you a shaky, hopeful smile in return. “I really did cherish my time with you.”

your heart swelled at his confession. his words were genuine, nothing like you have ever heard from guys your age. perhaps it was your fear mixed with the anticipation of what could be, but you found took his hand and he stole your breath away with a kiss that had you swooning.

gojo was overwhelmed, much like he was whenever he was in your presence. his hands holding you like porcelain, caressing each curve and crevice that he could as if he has not seen it. his lips sliding over yours and taking in all of your muffled, breathy noises.

ever so gently he laid your back his desk, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he never separated your molded lips. skilled hands unbuttoning your top and exposing your bare breast to the cool air. he detached his lips, kissing down your chest before taking a nipple in his mouth. teeth grazing it just the way you like, making your back arch off the wooden surface.

flipping your skirt to fold over your abdomen, he teased your folds through the fabric of your underwear. smearing your arousal that would surely stain the cotton. your impatient whines made him chuckle, causing him to stand and unbuckle the belt you were fiddling with.

coating his length in your arousal, he slid it in and hissed from the familiar feeling of your cunt already making his mind hazy as he eased his way in. “pussy made for me ain’t it?” he seethed, holding your thighs as he used them for leverage with each bruising thrust, brushing your sweet spot purposely.

“answer me bunny, whose is it?” his heavy balls slapped against your backside as he demanded you answer him, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the small space. your hands clawed at his button up, gripping his shoulder as you cried out repeated chants of his name.

there it was, that satoru that drove him crazy. the one that replays when woman approached him, when his old friends asked if there is someone in his life; it was you and will always be.

“gonna have you walking out of here with my cum dripping down your thighs. maybe then you’ll think twice about being defiant.” his voice was low and you were too fucked out to comprehend what he said. the faint tone of jealousy falling from his lips mixed with a tinge of possessiveness.

he felt your legs shake as your orgasm rake through your body, your juices coating his shaft as he never slowed his pace. the overstimulation causing you pull him down by his neck, wanting a kiss.

gojo indulged in your request, his cock twitching as he delved his tongue in your mouth that spurred on his release and painted your walls white. he groaned at the feeling, chest heaving from both exertion and the adrenaline leaving his body.

the evening bell rang throughout the campus, the only people on campus being admin at this time of the day.

“my little bunny.” gojo whispered, kissing your nose as he began to clean your fatigued body. grabbing a pair of sweats and a hoodie of his for you to wear, slyly locking your soiled panties in the locked drawer of his desk.

just in case you forget.

tags @thathoneybee3 @gabzlovesu @pervysenpaix

©2022 38riku. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy/repost or plagiarize my work.

[morsking]

is shirou a mary sue? the guy is universally well liked, cooks like a pro at 17, has the most op power from all fate (and arguably one of the most cool powers on media), nothing ever happens to him on the true/canon path of each route, he does many stupid things but no one cares 5 minutes later, other times like in salter vs rider he is just a tactical genius out of nowhere

he is not.

shirou is well-liked but he isn't particularly popular. he is known at school for being helpful and handy but otherwise not that many people are aching to get to know him or involve him in their lives. most people only know shirou very superficially. he is not sought after as a person, only as a handy man. there's a really neat scene at the beginning of hf1 where people are talking about shirou in the dojo and see that while he's earnest, hard-working, and talented, he's a bit odd and intense and that makes him a little difficult to approach casually. the only people who really like him are those who sit down and actually spend time with him. apart from the heroines of the story with whom he has time to develop a romantic bond, you don't see other girls falling head over heels for him. in fact, in hollow ataraxia the homurahara trio and mitsuzuri are quick to write him off as someone they are vehemently not interested in romantically whatsoever.

he only cooks like a pro because he had to teach himself to cook since he was 8. it's vital to understand that since kiritsugu became increasingly disabled and was utterly incapable of living as a normal human being, shirou was forced to grow up well before he was ready to take care of his adoptive father. he learned to cook, do the dishes, do the laundry, and clean the house because there were no other real adults in the house. shirou's domestic usefulness didn't come out of nowhere, it's a set of skills he took on out of necessity and came at the expense of his emotional growth.

shirou's power also isn't op. it's stated multiple times in the story how difficult it is for him to tap into it. he's not a natural mage with strong magical circuits, and neither does he have any real "useful" magical alignments that would make it easy for him to use conventional magecraft. every training session shirou has is a life-threatening act where he pushes his body and mind to the utmost limit for the low chance he might succeed at strengthening or projecting something. whenever he grabs hold of an ability that elevates his combat skills, it's either a) done with saber's help in the fate route, b) acquired as his soul inherits experience from his proximity to archer in ubw and receiving mana from rin, or c) obtained at the expense of the integrity of his mind and body as archer's arm starts to supplant his existence in heaven's feel. and even then, there's limits to what he can trace and project. he can't trace divine constructs normally as seen with ea, and his projections eat through his mana. think about what happens in heaven's feel too. every time he projects something with archer's arm he leaps closer to death because he can't handle the strain.

to say nothing ever happens to him in canon is also disingenuous. he doesn't die in a permanent sense, but take a moment to consider the amount of mental and physical pain he suffers that forces him to confront something about himself and change. did "nothing" happen when he faced gilgamesh and heracles with saber? is growing closer to her to find the best way to help her assert her personhood "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought archer? is realizing the truth of your ideals and grasping the resolve to realize them anyway in a healthier and more self-aware manner "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought heracles, saber alter, and kotomine? is saving your loved ones and claiming your life as your own after years of not seeing yourself as a human being to protect those dear to you so they too learn to love and accept themselves "nothing"?

take a moment to consider in what ways shirou is stupid that aren't contradicted by him being smart in others. shirou is socially inept and utterly incapable of asking for help because he is a traumatized teenager who doesn't know what a normal life is. he has few friends. he survived a fire. he is constantly trying to make up for being unable to rescue anyone in the calamity that destroyed his childhood. he constantly jumps in front of danger to save others for that very reason and refuses help because he doesn't want others to get hurt because of him until he learns to overcome that fear of being destroyed and seeing others be destroyed. he is dumb at being a person because he's never let himself be one. he is smart in a fight because he's at least been able to process his stress and trauma in a way that helps him rationalize his way out of a crisis.

i feel the need to stress that a protagonist having special qualities fit for the narrative isn't them being a mary sue. it's them simply being a main character with agency, a main character that is engaging and interesting. how boring do you think shirou and the story would be if he was really a shit-ass mcnobody with no talents, personality, qualities, or meaningful connections to the setting? he'd be no different from every other harem protag the cishet male audience can use as a self-insert. he is supposed to subvert ideas of masculinity by being domestic. he challenges conventional ideas of heroism by showing how his ideals are flawed and how important it is that he self-actualize.

shirou faces consequences for his inaction and inexperience multiple times too. saber gets frustrated because he won't (tell her why he really won't) fight and that causes a rift in their relationship he must fix with honesty and mutual understanding. shirou's inability to protect himself from hypnotic suggestion gets him kidnapped by caster and forces archer to rescue him, and in turn their shared stubbornness elevates their conflict to deadly levels until they're forced to fight to work out their differences. heaven's feel shows you how his unwillingness to forsake who he is to properly scold sakura and save her makes the situation worse when sakura loses faith that shirou will keep his promise to her until he decides he will fulfill it for both their sakes. people do care! saber cares when her master doesn't see eye to eye with her! rin cares that shirou is too willing to throw away his own life for others! archer cares that he is at risk of becoming that which archer can't forgive himself for being! sakura cares because seeing the man she loves come home bruised and bloodied every night is wrong! illya cares because he is her only true family! rider cares because if shirou can't be sakura's ally then she's as good as dead! everyone cares because shirou has to learn to care too, and he does!

i'm going to ask you to try to engage with media without trying to uncover flaws under rigid standards like this because all it does is keep you from properly understanding what is being shown to you. you cannot hope to judge a story and its characters for all their flaws or merits if this is how you approach things.

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[lonelyl00n]

Je T'aime | Yandere! Joy

Summary: When your childhood bully won't let go of you.

Warning: manipulation, abuse of power, controlling relationship, jealousy, mention of killing

wc: 1.5K

This is was inspired by my favorite song Je T'aime by Hey. When I found out that Joy did a cover of that song, I got the creativity to create this. I wanted to get all of this out of my head, so it may feel a bit rushed in some areas.

You were in the library when you felt someone put their hands over your eyes. “Guess Who?”

“Hmmm.” You joked as you tapped your finger on your chin. “Is it…Namjoon?”

Your eyes were uncovered the second you said that. You laughed at Joy’s angry expression. “I told you not to mention him.”

“Sorry, sorry. What brings you here.”

“What do you mean what brings me here? It’s our night out.” Joy gasps.

“I’m sorry Joy, I don’t think I can do it tonight. Namjoon was supposed to be tutoring me, but I’ve been waiting for like thirty minutes.”

“I’m one of the smartest kids in the school. I’m in the Top 10 you know. Why didn’t you ask me?” Joy pouted.

You laughed at her outburst. “First of all, your parents would sue the school if you weren’t in Top 10, so that doesn’t really mean much.”

Joy's father was the CEO of a famous luxury brand, while her mom is a retired actress who was popular in the late 80's and 90's. Her parents had more money than you and your family could ever dream of. Growing up bouncing around from different relative’s basements made a lot of the kids at school growing up, make fun of you.

Especially Joy.

In 4th grade, is when she would begin to make your life a living hell. She would steal your lunch money and give you foods that she knew you were allergic to. She would constantly call you fat and make rude comments about you to her friends.

It got worse in 10th grade, when she made an announcement over the PA system that whoever talked, touched, or even looked at you would get beat up. She bought you and her matching rings at cost more than $1000, and would make you wear it all the time. She bought you clothes, gave you money, and even managed to convince her parents to buy your family an apartment with three bedrooms and a balcony.

 She basically owned you. You weren’t allowed to go out on the weekends because of her security guards guarding your apartment door. When you did try to leave the apartment, which you never succeeded, you would be taken by the guards to the Park Mansion and have to sit on Joy’s lap as you two watched a movie, as punishment.

You hated the power she had, you always did, she even forced you to go to the same college that she was going to, by threatening to hurt your Aunt Irene.

You reluctantly agreed to her ‘idea’, not wanting to hurt your family members that helped your family so much.

So now you followed Joy around the campus like a little puppy, while everyone else thought that you guys were just close friends who liked being near each other.

“And second of all.” you continued. “We are supposed to be working on a project together.”

Joy furrowed her eyebrows while thinking. A project? With a boy?! She thought she had already told all of your professors to not give you any partners at all. Especially a boy.

“I know what your thinking.” Y/N claimed, seeing the looked on Joy’s face. “But we went to London for a whole month, and this was a month-long project. I can’t do it alone.”

“Fine, then I’ll help you.” Joy suggested.

“But Namjoon has to get this grade too.”

“Why do you worry about other people so much, come on let’s just start this.”

You and Joy spent all night, researching, printing, and decorating your poster board. By the time you guys were finished it was 2 a.m.

“Well, that was quicker than I expected. I guess I’ll have to make a new reservation for tomorrow.” Joy sighed. “Let’s go home.” She said as she intertwined your hands and walke out the library.

As part of the deal, Joy had you move into a luxury 2-bedroom apartment that was about an hour away from campus. Joy demanded insisted that you shouldn’t use public transportation anymore because now, with the help of her money, you were worth a lot. Throughout your high school experience, Joy never let you get a driver’s license, so she has the pleasure of driving you to and from campus, always knowing your whereabouts.

You looked out the car window without having anything to do. As punishment for talking to a boy, Joy had taken your phone claiming that the only person you needed to talk to was always right beside you. “What do you want to eat.” She asked you.

“McDonald’s.” You say robotically. McDonald’s was the only fast food place that Joy allowed you to eat. It was the place she found your family at in 10th grade.

It was on a rainy day that your Aunt Irene had kicked you, your parents, and your little brother out of her basement for being a burden, which you didn’t understand because just a week ago your Aunt had said you all staying there was the best thing to happen for her since her illness was starting to worsen.

So, with no where to go and barely any money, your parents took you all to McDonald’s to split one box of 20 piece chicken nuggets, and 4 small drinks for each member of the family.

As you were told by Joy, her family's trailer had broken down on the way back home from the airport, so Joy offered to walk to the nearest building while her parents berated the driver. The nearest place just so happened to be the McDonald’s you and your family were at.

You instantly recognized Joy when she walked through the door, just like how Joy instantly recognized you. She sat a table across from the booth your family was at, and pulled out her phone. Gosh, were you so amazed. You had never had a phone before. Your parents only had one that they shared, and you didn’t have friends (because of Joy’s rules) to let you use theirs. Joy smiled at you awe-filled eyes and continued talking on the phone.

You didn’t even realize that you were staring at her until your mom slapped your wrist and told you to stop. When the phone call ended, Joy stood up and walked towards your table. You looked at the ground, afraid that she too would scold you. “Hello L/N’s. I’m Park Sooyoung.” She started. You heard a gasp in front of you and looked at your parents, who were looking at the entrance doors. A tall man wearing a suit, and a woman carrying a Chanel bag. Walked through the door.

Joy looked back and laughed. “Oh, those are my parents.” They came up to your booth, both shoke hands your parents and stood behind Joy. ”We wanted to give your family a place to stay, would you let us.” You mother, being the biggest fan of Joy’s mother growing up instantly nodded, while your father thought about it for a few seconds before evening his Wife’s beautiful smile. A smile he hadn’t seen since their wedding day. He agreed as well.

That night was significant to you because not only did your family get a place to reside, but it was also the first time that Joy was nice to you. Since that day she started treated you better, still not letting you talk to anyone else, but she was nice.

Although Joy would never tell you this, it was that night that she fell in love with you, completely.

After eating. You and Joy got into the bed that you two shared. Yes there were two bedrooms in your apartment, but you couldn’t sleep in a room by yourself.

You had slept in a room with somebody your whole life, it felt uncomfortable. So on the first week of living here, you asked Joy if you could sleep with her, even okay with sleeping on the ground. Joy let you into her bed, and sang you to sleep.

That became your routine every night after that. However tonight was different, you feel asleep the minute you got into bed. Joy snuck out of the bed and turned you alarm off. You didn’t need to go to school tomorrow, you wouldn’t have time anyways. Her makeup crew that were going to come today were rescheduled to come tomorrow. The day she had been waiting for since that night was going to happen.

 All of you and her family members were going to be at that restaurant and would watch as she would get down on one knee, just like in the romance movies, and propose to you. Just thinking about tomorrow made her heart flutter. Yes, she was furious about the change of plans today, but she would never take it out on you. Instead, she took it out on that Namjoon guy behind the library. Ugh! Just thinking about him getting close to you was sickening. She had her men take care of his body for her.

She kissed your cheek and whispers in your ear, “I love you.”

Everything was set in her plan. She loved you, and you…would have no choice but to love her. You were hers after all. Hers to love.

[unwrittenlibrary]

Champagne Problems

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

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

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

-

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing 

Champagne Problems

-

March.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The kids missed you.” You say quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would shower in the kids bathroom. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be ridiculous for him to say he was. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry lets out an empty laugh. Wouldn’t everyone? His mother loved you. She had since the two of you had met in college. When you had found out you were pregnant a semester before graduation his mother had been nothing but supportive; Especially when your parents had poorly hidden their own disappointment. 

Gemma thought of you as the sister she never had. Her and Harry were close, but over the last almost twenty years you and her had grown closer. 

His mind drifts to the kids. How could he do this to the kids? Force them go through what had been devastating to him. He may not practice family law, but he knew how it worked. You worked from home all the time and had been taking care of them their entire lives. 

They would ask the kids where they wanted to go, they would refuse to leave their mother. Harry would too, you were home to everyone in the family. Life without you sounded meaningless. 

Why did you do it then? He shakes his head. He doesn’t know. It wasn’t like you had stopped giving him attention, there was no time for sex and work got in the way of dates. It was his fault. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The word repeats itself over and over again in his head. . Even if he could find ways you had ignored him or cast him to the side it would be pointless. It would be placing blame on a blameless person. It was his fault. 

He crawls under the comforter. It’s nowhere near as soft as the one you had chosen for the bedroom. The sheets weren’t slept in so they didn’t feel as soft and worn. Harry thinks of having to find his own sheets and bed, his heart drops. 

He doesn’t sleep. Unable to stop the back and forth of how do I fix this and will she even let me try? 

-

Harry’s fingers tap incessantly on the drivers wheel as he makes his way home from Serena and Oliver’s school. Persephone had been pretty silent to entire drive to her high school, but Oliver had done more than covered for her with his stories. 

How had it gone from breakfast together at least once a week and and family game nights to Oliver wanting nothing more than to be in his mother’s car and Persephone sitting in pure silence. 

Harry’s mind trails back to you as he drives. You had barely spared him a second glance as you sat down to join them at the breakfast table. He had felt his hesitant smile drop when you looked away from him. And even though talking to the kids all morning had caused his happiness to jump, there was still pain steadily flowing as he thought of what your plan was. 

Would you kick him out? Selfishly, he thought that was his biggest fear. Not having you and the kids to come home to everyday and losing the comfort it had always brought him. he had taken advantage of it and now that it could slip through his fingers at any moment he felt disgusting. 

The drive allows him to wallow in his thoughts, but pulling into the driveway is a far worse feeling. Knowing that you were inside and could give him news that would kill him.

Was he allowed to feel that way? He asks himself. Like you leaving him would kill him, when it would be because of his own choices. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to straighten himself out as he steps out of the car and begins the walk towards the front door.

He mumbles apologies and empty words as he walks up. Unsure of what he could say to you to break the silence. When he opens the door, you’re sitting with Jack as he babbles and plays with his toys on the floor. 

“Forgot how much Olly could talk.” Harry settles on starting with. He lets out an awkward laugh as you stand and lift Jack up before placing him in the play pen. You lean down and tickle him gently. “Please don’t escape, little Houdini.” Once you let him go and step away the young boy crawls away with a giggle. 

You make your way towards the kitchen silently and Harry walks behind you with a nervous buzzing feeling in his chest.

You take a deep breath and Harry watches as you slide a piece of paper over the counter and towards. As his eyes scan down the list he feels a sliver of hope creep into his heart.

“What’s this?” He asks quietly. It’s names and phone numbers that have his heart beating a million miles per second.

“A list of marriage counselors.” His eyes follow your finger as you point towards each name and number. “For us to see once a week.”

The hope in him is growing by the second as words keep coming out of your mouth. “You’re not leaving me?” He blurts out in shock.

Your stance turns defensive and Harry takes a deep breath trying to calm himself. “No.” You answer quietly. “Not yet anyways.” Harry can’t help the furrow of his brow as the words hit him. It wasn’t definite and this was a test. You sigh which forced Harry to move his attention back to you. “We have four kids together. A life. And no matter how much you hurt me, I still love you.”

Harry bites back the smile threatening to cross his face. Because despite everything, you love him. You still did. You both glance at your ring finger when he notices you twisting the ring around it. “You’re the love of my life. I don’t want to throw that all away without trying first.”

Harry can’t stop the smile this time as happiness bursts inside him. “Y/N.” He says quietly.

He kind of zones out as he watches you go over what you want to do from here. Counseling and cutting hours back at the firm. Neither a punishment in Harry’s mind.

“I’m not sure if you like, ended it with her.” You start and he nods hastily. “I have. I did last night. I’ll never talk to her again.” He promises. He feels guilt again but part of is held back by the unadulterated hope he has now.

He debates taking the steps towards you before finally deciding it was necessary. When you don’t move away, he pulls you into a cautious hug, one that he’s shocked to feel returned.

“Thank you.” He whispers and you nod.

He would fix this. He swore it. This wasn’t a maybe in his head, it was necessary.

-

Your heart was glass I dropped it.

Champagne Problems.

-

Notes:

Just a small piece while you all wait for third main part to wkm! thank you for the endless patience. hope you all are safe & healthy.

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

[cazimagines]

Try not to forget me

Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’

Word count: 8.5k

Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.

Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,

‘My princess, my everything’

His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice

‘I need you, all of you’

His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.

You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.

His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’

You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.

But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.

Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.

On the third ring, he picked up.

“Sam?” you ask

“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”

“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”

You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”

“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”

“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice

“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”

“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”

That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.

You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.

“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh

“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”

“Well I’m here now”

“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”

The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.

“Y/n, you look good for your age”

“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.

“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.

“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”

A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.

It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.

“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”

You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.

Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.

That’s why the break-up was so messy.

You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.

At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.

You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?

You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.

“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.

He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.

But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.

Zemo was first to speak.

“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”

“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms

Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”

Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.

“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky

Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”

Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”

“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you

“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo

“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”

“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.

Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.

As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”

There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.

As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.

Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.

And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.

“Oeznik” you whisper

He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”

You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.

You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.

A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.

You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.

“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.

“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.

Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.

He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.

And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.

But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.

He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.

“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.

Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky

Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers

Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”

“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”

But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.

“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.

“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”

Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.

“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words

“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.

“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.

“I see”

“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”

If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.

“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’

You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.

Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.

“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”

“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies

“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward

“I liked it”

“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky

Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”

Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.

-

“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”

“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains

“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you

“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”

“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”

Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.

He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.

“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.

“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”

Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”

You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”

Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.

“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.

He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”

He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”

You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.

You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”

Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.

As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”

You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.

“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him

He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”

He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.

“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”

“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.

“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you

“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips

“Isn’t that right princess?”

You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.

As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?

But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.

The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.

Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.

A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.

“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,

“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky

“Or bring Selby for a chat”

The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.

“A power broker, really?”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”

“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”

Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.

After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.

You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.

That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.

Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.

“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”

You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.

“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”

But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.

“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.

-

Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.

Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.

“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.

“Is something the matter?” he asks

“You and y/n. What’s up with that”

Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”

“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”

Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”

Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”

“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”

Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”

“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam

“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”

-

With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.

You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side

You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap

“May I come in? We need to talk”

“I don’t want to talk”

You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.

“Let me”

You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.

“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.

“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”

He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”

You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”

His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”

It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”

He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”

“I had to leave” you whisper

“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”

Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”

“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”

“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.

“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.

You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.

His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.

His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”

You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.

He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’

While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.

He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.

As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.

“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”

You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.

“It seems I do remember correctly”

“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.

He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’

“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.

You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.

“Strip for me”

He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.

As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”

“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”

“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.

You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.

“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”

With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.

He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.

“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.

“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.

“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.

“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”

And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.

He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you Helmut” you whisper

“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”

TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @multiyfandomgirl40 @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @barneswidow @checkurwindow @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s @mylifeispainandiloveit

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[fatui-gf]

Childe x Dom!Reader

this work will contain femdom, slight bdsm, bondage, light degradation and overstimulation, so if you're uncomfortable with any of these, don't read!

the reader IS NOT Lumine or Aether, they are an adventurer from the guild but have no relation to the protagonists of the game, they are over the age of 18

Everyone knew Childe as somewhat of an unpredictable and dangerous man. He was quite the problem childe, easily ending up in fights, getting a kick from danger. That's what really got him excited, the uncertainty if he'll even make it alive. Always ignoring all of this pain, sometimes even enjoying it which he wouldn't like to admit.

But he felt something special, something more while fighting with you. There was something so alluring about the way you would move and gracefully use your weapon of choice while still remaining gentle about it. He could see that you never wanted to hurt him, even though you knew he was trouble and a fatui, not the guy to be trusted.

As the days went by, you've developed an interesting relationship. Childe would surprise you when he got the time, taking you out to eat or just have fun in the city, always being the one to pay for everything, of course. Gods, this man loves spoiling you.

Slowly, this turned into a friendship but you wondered if this could turn into something more. He would sometimes make dirty jokes or some suggestive remarks but never something that would make you sure that he's into you. He looked like a player after all, he was quite hard to decypher.

This day, you were in your apartment in Liyue, you've just finished cleaning yourself up after getting done with the commissions for the day when you saw a familiar man's face looking at you through the window, standing on your balcony as if this was normal behavior.

As soon as he saw you, he started tapping on the glass, wanting to be let in. You sighed and opened the balcony door. He just laughed nonchalantly

"Hey girlie, long time no see" he said with a smile on his face.

You wanted to ask how he got up there but then realized that it might be better not to. You shot him a small warm smile.

"Are you bored again or injured from. a battle?" you asked.

He laughed "Not this time, I wanted to be better and was more careful this time, for you. But I can see that you like acting as my little nurse though, huh? Do you really love me this much?" he giggled softly, teasing you.

You felt warmth on your cheeks. Again not being obvious, this man... Trying to hide your initial response, you just rolled your eyes and sat on the bed. He followed, still not taking his gaze off of you. He rested his hand against his cheek with a grin. He looked so adorable, it was hard to believe that he was a fatui harbinger.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about you lately. You have no idea how much I've dreamed about those hands of yours around my... I meant to say, your hands intertwined with mine"

Wow, was he bold. You didn't know how to interpret this but you've had enough, all of this teasing and remarks, it drove you insane at this point. You firly grabbed his chin, positioning it so that he would look directly at you. There was no turing back from this point. You could see his eyes widening from surprise and a pink flush appeared on his face.

This boy was so caught off guard and damn, did he look absolutely adorable like this.

"Playing rough with me, girlie? Just don't be surprised if I bite back" he teased you again.

He truly was a one hell of a brat. It filled you with excitement, how endearing it would be to tame him.

"As I expected from a dog like you, all you ever do is bark and threaten to bite but as soon as I'd raise my voice, you'd turn into a puppy".

Childe felt his length harden in his pants. You could notice it too but focused on his embarrassed expression.

"I'd like to see you try, make me" and so he provoked you.

You gently pushed his shoulders so that he fell on his back on the bed. You started to kiss him deeply while undoing his shirt and tossing it aside.

You could see all the healed scars on his stomach as well as two pink nipples. You gradually made your way to them, sucked and bit on them resulting in a few moans escaping Chile's mouth.

You then unblucked his pants, paying attention to his glowing vision. It looked so pretty glistening in the rays of setting sun. You gently put it away, trying not to damage it and just wondered if using it in some form to play would be too much. You then used his belt to tie him to your bed.

"Confident, are we?" he laughed, his blue eyes staring at you from underneath his long eyelashes.

"I'm just doing what had to be done since long ago, you're always talking, always looking like the cocky guy but truth be told, you're just a little bitch when someone finally knows how to handle you properly".

You could see him gasp, probably never been told something like this before. But saying that it didn't arouse him would be a lie.

"Then turn that little bitch into your bitch" he winked at you.

You removed his pants and looked down at his bulge. You slightly poked it with your foot, slowly stroking it which made him breathe more heavily, a few moans escaped his lips. You kept going as you took off your top and later your bottom, keeping only a beautiful new lacy lingerie. You wanted to just feel fancy today, chilling at home feeling confident in yourself with this new set on but it turned out to be so convinient.

He practically could eat you with his gaze, he loved how it looked on you, you looked like a goddess. You then pulled down his underwear, allowing his dick out, it was pink and very erect, leaning towards his stomach. You placed your hand on it, caressing it with your fingers and you could feel the precum on them. You looked at them and then at Childe and put your finger in his mouth, making him taste his own precum. Due to the humiliating nature to what you've just done, he would like to admit that he got off to the taste of himself but he did. He closed his eyes and sucked on it. He looked so desperate.

You went back to touching his member, picking up on the pace and put a few fingers inside his ass. This made him moan the loudest and you could see his eyes get a little bit teary.

"Y/N please-" he somehow muttered between the moans.

You were practically milking him at this point, going rough with no mercy.

"Please what? Use your words."

He felt so embarrassed but managed

"Please make me cum, please- I feel like I'm so close, I will do everything to you, I'm your personal slut".

It was hard to believe that Tartaglia would say such explicit things in this manner. You then stopped which was met with a displeased groan from Childe.

"You have to earn it".

His eyes sparkled as you unblocked his hands.

"On your knees".

He complied and stepped from. the bed to then kneel right in front of you, his cock painfully twitching. He moved his hand to your thighs getting high of the smell of your skin. He wanted you. So bad. At this point he felt like a bitch in heat, lost all of his self control as he spread your legs open, his tongue basically automatic, going on your clit. It took you by surprise that the harbinger knew what he was supposed to do right away.

He was skilled or maybe just the heat got to his head so much that he tried his best. This didn't really matter though because anyway it felt so good. Not only did you make such a dangerous man get on his knees but also serve you. You were truly special and he had masochistic desires but let's just focus on you being special.

He kept going with all his might while also caressing your thighs. You felt the pit in your stomach growing as you grappled his hair and pulled on it. You came right on his face.

"Such a good boy..." you whispered.

You then tugged on his hair again and placed him below you. You then took your panties and placed them on top of his dick. Childe gasped. You then proceeded to stroke him with the lacey panties right on top of his length.

"I wonder what the other fatui would think of this pathetic image. Tartaglia, the great harbinger getting jerked off with panties as he pants and moans like a slut. You're so embarrassing" you teased him which finally brought him to his climax.

Sharp breaths accompanied his moans. You tossed the cum stained pa tied away, will probably make him wash them later. You then placed yourself right on his cock and started moving.

"No! Wait, you can't do that i-it's- fuck.... It's too sensitive!" he exclaimed breathily.

You kept on going as he basically screamed underneath you.

"Fuck, this hurts so much that it's good" Chile's eyes practically rolled back, he was such a mess, teary eyes, drool rolling down his chin.

But he was your mess, your adorable boy. You kept going as you felt him cum again, feeling his warm semen filling you as he gasped and moaned and groaned. You touched his cheek lovingly, wiping the tears with your thumb. You got closer to him and placed a lot of kisses on his face. He was wrecked, in a good way.

"Soooo... does that make us, like, a thing?" you asked while looking away. You really did fall for him and didn't want it to be just purely sex. You wanted more of him.

He pulled you closer, putting his shaky hands in your hair as he gave you a peck. "Does that answer your question?"

You cuddled him, holding him very tightly and close, making sure he stays with you. You both fell asleep like that, curled up together. In the morning when you woke up earlier than him, you made sure to make breakfast for the both of you. It felt so warm and domestic. Childe felt like home to you.

Author's note I had to move blogs because I wasn’t satisfied with it being a side blog, I wanted to keep it as a main so if you’ve seen this ff before, that’s why! Also, this is my first fic so please don't be too harsh on me dhdhjdnd. I'm posting it at 5am for me because I couldn't sleep so I'm sorry if I missed any typos, feel free to correct me! And I hope you liked this little scenario, pls share your thoughts about it with me 💗

[effeminateboyninja]

I had a dream last night that I had an unrequited crush on Shikamaru since forever but he and Temari had started dating.

(In the dream I had me and Shiki we’re walking and joking then Temari came over and then they went for dinner together. As Shikamaru’s friend I was like -arm punch- go on bro, have fun. And they walked away together leaving me feeling heartbroken, inadequate and inferior.)

You can do any scenario you want. I literally have an unrequited love playlist lol 😂❤️

oh anon, i've been there 😭 let us wallow in our unrequited love for Shikamaru together

~ Almost enough ~

(Shikamaru x fem!reader) angst // 1.7k words

Ten years. An entire decade with Shikamaru by your side, getting into the carefree mischief that defined such childhood friendships and growing so close people were surprised to see one of you without the other. More than half of it spent trying to ignore the butterflies and daydreams that would force you to admit you wanted him to be more. In hindsight it seemed inevitable, the way he’d snuck into your heart before you could even notice. With his striking intelligence and those penetrating eyes, the way he so readily discarded his lazy demeanor and replaced it with hardened determination when his friends needed him — how could you not love him?

You accepted it too late though, spent too many months agonizing over how to tell your best friend that you were head over heels for him, and by the time you were finally brave enough to take the plunge and make your confession he had one of his own. That day was cemented in your mind now, a stinging reminder of your own inaction. Against your better judgement you drifted back into the memory...

It was beautiful out, the warm air offset by a gentle breeze that carried the spring blossoms through the wind as he sat across the shogi board from you, his sharp brow furrowed in concentration as he analyzed the pieces to determine his next move. One of the petals caught in his dark hair and your hand moved to brush it away, but before you could he sat back with a sigh, “Do you wanna do something else? I’m not really into the game.”

“Why? Because I’m winning?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes and cracked a small grin. “You’re only winning because I’m not giving it my all,” he objected.

“Sure, sure,” you threw a light punch at his shoulder and you both laughed. He looked so pretty when he laughed. Not the snarky chuckle he used so often in public, but this unapologetically cheerful one accompanied by a toothy smile that was so carefree and genuine it transformed his serious face into something softer, more innocent. The words never seemed easier to say than it that moment, and without your permission they slipped through your lips as the laughter died out.

“I love you.”

He didn’t even skip a beat, returning your confession with an eye roll and a gentle shove. “Shut up dude, I love you too. You’re my best friend, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Your heart sunk a bit at his misinterpretation and you parted your lips to explain that yes, he’s your best friend too but he’s also so much more, but before you could he went on, “Speaking of love, I wanted to ask for some advice... about Temari.”

His eyes darted to his hands and a soft blush crept across his cheeks. You’d have thought he punched you in the stomach, not timidly asked for your help by the way your body tensed at his words. You didn’t know disappointment could feel so tangible until that moment, the way your stomach dropped to your feet and your hands went cold. “Temari?” you questioned, clearing your throat to rid it of the lump that had formed, “you love her?”

He jolted up and the red in his cheeks deepened. “Nono of course not!” he stammered, “I just… I like her a lot and like, you’re a girl right? How do I win her over?”

For the first time in your life you regretted being so close to him. Couldn’t he have gone to literally anyone else for help with this? Why did it have to be you? To him you were the only one he could approach about such an important topic. It wasn’t just because you were a girl that he asked, but because he valued your opinion above anyone else's. It was because even if it wasn’t the way you wanted, he wasn’t lying when he said he loved you too. So you pushed it all aside — all the heartbreak and sadness that threatened to overwhelm you — you buried it deep down inside for the sake of your friend, looking so nervous and vulnerable as he sat in front of you and put on a fake smile as you did your best to be what he needed in that moment.

“Well you’re a catch so it should be easy, but if you really want to impress her you should…”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Shikamaru waved his hand in front of your eyes, pulling you out of your recollection and back to the present where you walked easily beside him through the streets, no real destination in mind.

You blinked a few times to reorient yourself and apologized with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted today.”

He snickered, “Who has their head in the clouds now, huh?”

“You’ve been a bad influence on me,” you retorted with a smirk and he laughed.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “Hey, do you remember when we were kids and we would skip class to go cloud watching?”

He wore a thoughtful smile as he posed the question, his eyes lost in a content nostalgia. God, why did he have to look so damn perfect when he smiled?

You cleared your head and scoffed, “Of course. I still get grief from my mother about all the absence notes Iruka sensei sent home.”

He snorted, “You actually gave her those?! I always ripped mine up before she could see them,” his sentence trailed off into a laugh, one of those real ones that you lived for the sound of and you joined him, forgetting momentarily about your unrequited feelings.

But of course the moment ended much too soon. You noticed her at the same time he did, and you were glad the Nara man’s intense gaze was so singularly focused on the blonde woman ahead that he wouldn’t notice the way your face fell as your laughter cut off abruptly. She waved excitedly from her position a few blocks down and rushed towards you guys, her short pigtails bouncing behind her as she ran.

“Hey you guys!” she greeted the two of you excitedly as she arrived, giving Shikamaru a quick peck on the cheek, causing a small wince you hoped went unnoticed. “Ready for our date?”

“Shit! I almost forgot,” he palmed his forehead and turned to you apologetically, “we’re supposed to get dinner tonight, we have a reservation and everything. Sorry to leave you like this but we’ve gotta go.”

“No worries!” you flashed them a bright smile, one that was uncharacteristically wide in an attempt to compensate for your disappointment. “Go on and take your girl out. Have fun.”

You shoved him towards her lightly and Temari smiled, “Yeah! Listen to (y/n), she’s got the right idea.”

He looked at her the way you’d dreamed he would look at you and laced his fingers through hers, moving to lead her away in the direction of the restaurant. He looked over his shoulder and called back, “See ya tomorrow!” They both waved before turning back ahead, swaying gently as they matched each other’s steps.

“See ya…” you whispered to yourself, their shared giggles echoing off the buildings as they turned the corner and disappeared from your sight.

Nowhere else to go and not wanting to return to your empty apartment you turned to continue walking the sandy streets of the village and ponder. After a while you found yourself at a small pond, where you sat at the edge and peered into the calm water that reflected the crescent of the rising moon in it’s glossy reflection.

What was it about her? Why her and not you? Maybe it’s because she’s so beautiful, you thought forlornly as you traced the lines of your own plain features in the watery mirror below. You hit your hand over the surface to disturb the picture of yourself, water splashing back and mixing with tears that had started to fall on your cheeks.

That wasn’t it and you knew it. Shikamaru wasn’t that shallow. If he was this might be easier. He was with her and not you because she was perfect for him. Even you could admit that in spite of your own feelings she was his ideal match. He just lit up around her in a way that he never did when you were together, and as painful as that was there was an unselfish part of you that appreciated her for it.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to hate her. Trying to find a reason, any reason that they shouldn’t be together to justify telling him your truth and ruining it all — but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Underneath the hard exterior she really was kind, extremely so. She was more perceptive about matters of the heart than he was, and you suspected she knew of your true feelings for her boyfriend… but she never once made you feel bad about it or told him. Not that she needed to try to make you feel guilty, the feeling overwhelmed you everytime they were around, and even more so when it was just the two of you.

The small part that was left of you still concerned with self-preservation told you to cut them both off. To just stop answering his calls and disappear from their lives before you could slip up and lean in for the kiss you imagined millions of times. But he was addicting. No one else made you feel so at ease, made you laugh so joyfully except him. So you’d wade through the guilt and the knowledge that you were only hurting yourself just to spend a few minutes with him whenever you could, even if it meant watching him fall in love with someone else. Being his friend was enough. Almost.

[viastro]

second life | xu minghao

ミ★ synopsis: in which jun and jeonghan pick out a book titled, Second Life, and find a message written to someone on the title page. it’s only then that they learn the untold story of two lovers who met at a library 35 years ago.

ミ★ genre: soulmate!au (kinda ?), multiple lives!au, fluff, light angst

ミ★ warnings: major character death (it’s not bad i promise)

ミ★ word count: 4,219

ミ★ pairings: xu minghao x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! when i wrote this oneshot, i couldn’t think of any other published book, so i decided to reference @sunlightwoo​‘s series, Second Life, which is really good so make sure to check it out ! i’m going to be a bit busy these upcoming weeks because i have finals soon, and i also just got a job as a boba barista ! i’ll try to post a oneshot at least once a week, but we’ll see how that goes HAHAHA as always, make sure to give lots of love to minghao <3 i hope you guys enjoy this one !!

“Who would wanna go to the library over the amusement park? And why is it you instead of Minghao?” Jun rolls his eyes at Jeonghan’s questions as the two of them step into the city library. They bow their heads in the elderly librarian’s direction, before walking further into the pretty empty space.

“Minghao keeps telling me to read more cause he’s tired of me bothering him.” Jun mutters as his eyes trail across the numerous books on the shelves. Jeonghan purses his lips, before nodding his head in agreement, knowing that Minghao is on the verge of possibly committing homicide if Jun barges into his apartment one more time unannounced.

“This looks nice.” Jun says quietly to himself as he pulls out the story titled, Second Life. He opens the cover, only to tilt his head at the writing scrawled on the title page. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at Jun’s confused expression, so he leans in close to check out what he’s looking at. 

for yn,

as a reminder for a fairly wonderful day. i hope for many more to come. 

affectionately yours, 

xmh

“I guess this book was donated?” Jeonghan asks, glancing down at the page to see that it was published long before the two were alive. Jun nods his head, and they head over to the front desk to rent the story. 

“Ah, no one’s checked out this book in a long time.” The librarian says softly, hand grazing slightly over the written words. Jun and Jeonghan share a glance, before turning back towards the elderly woman. “Do you perhaps… know the person who wrote that message?” 

She glances up at the two handsome men, seeing their curious expressions on their faces. The librarian lets out a smile, nodding her head as she stamps the sticker in the book and slides it back in Jun’s direction. 

“They were a beautiful couple. I was just a young girl starting my first job as a librarian when they first met here, actually.” Jun finds himself growing more intrigued, as does Jeonghan since the two appear to be holding onto the librarians every word. 

“Can we hear their story?” Jeonghan asks, and they watch as the librarian smiles, before nodding her head. She gestures for them to move towards the couches, and she walks out from behind the desk and sits in front of the two. 

“It’s a bit of a long one, if that’s okay.” The librarian warns, and Jun and Jeonghan shake their heads, telling her that it’s no problem. She lets out a sigh, glancing out the window to see the yellow rays from the warm, summer sun shine into the library. 

“It was a beautiful spring day when they first met.”

Fucking hate pollen, you think grumpily to yourself as you rub your nose in an attempt to hold back the monstrous sneeze that threatens to escape if you inhale one more breath of the spring air. You notice the library around the corner, and quicken your pace as you walk over to escape from the allergy infested air. 

Once you’re there, you practically rip open the door and jump inside the quiet building. You let out a sigh of relief once the door closes behind you, and you pause, realizing how loud you must’ve been when you entered the library. So you turn your head slowly, just to find the relatively young librarian standing there with wide eyes, and you let out a small smile. 

“I’m so sor-” The words die in your throat when you feel that familiar feeling in the back of your nose, and you quietly try to fight it back. 

god, please. I’m in the place that’s supposed to be quiet, so if you humiliate me and make me sne-

You let out a loud sneeze that resembles the sound of the large stampede of wildebeest that killed Mufasa in the Lion King, and it makes you want to shrivel up and die right in the entrance of the library. You wouldn’t mind, really. It’d be a peaceful way to go out, just right here. In this library. Actually, it’d be rather pleasa-

“Do you need a tissue?” You turn your head to see the young librarian holding out a tissue box from her desk, and you let out an embarrassed smile. Shaking your head, you lift up your hand to tell her that you’re fine, only to stop and turn when you hear the door open from behind you. 

A tall man walks in with long red hair that’s parted down the middle. He’s wearing a black turtleneck with a sheer blue button down over it. Running a hand through his hair, he glances up from the floor and locks eyes with you once the door closes.

Love at first sight. You never believed it, didn’t understand the concept, really. Even thought it was stupid. How could you fall in love with someone just from a first glance? 

So why is it that you can’t seem to be able to breathe as you stare up into his deep, brown eyes that seem to hold millions of thoughts as they bore into yours. Feeling heat rush up to your cheeks, you turn away first, and he quietly coughs into his shoulder. 

“Sorry.” You mumble as you step to the side, feeling embarrassed for just staring at the ethereal man with an awed expression. You’re sure that he thinks you’re weird, and you debate on ways to escape the library while also being able to handle your allergies.

if i just shove the pieces of tissue up my nose, then i won’t sneeze every five seconds. brilliant.

However, the thoughts come to a stop when you find his hand outstretched towards you. Slowly, you glance up at the man, just to find a small smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Hi, I’m Minghao.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly reach out and grasp his hand softly, letting out a grin when you do so. You watch as his eyes seem to twinkle in the sunlight, and you wonder how someone can be so ethereal as you say, 

“Hi, I’m yn.”

“This book is taking a rather tragic turn.” You mutter as you turn the page, and Minghao glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He bites back a smile when he sees you upside down on the beanbag chair, reading Romeo and Juliet as you do so. Letting out a breath he responds, “You’ve read that book three times already, you should know that it’s not a good story.”

Rolling your eyes, you close the book and shoot the pretty man a glare. Minghao giggles when he sees you grumble to yourself about him always attacking you whenever you pick up any work of Shakespeares. You don’t blame him, Romeo and Juliet sucks, but you read the story for entertainment purposes. 

“Always ruining my fun.” You complain as you move to the aisle to pick up another story. Minghao grins, placing his book down after marking his spot and following after you. 

It’s been three months since you and Minghao met at this library, and the two of you have been meeting here almost every weekend just to read together. You’ve discovered that Minghao is not only physically pretty, but his talent and personality is truly unmatched. While Minghao has noticed that you shine brighter than all the stars in the sky whenever you speak of a book you’ve come to love. 

Secretly the two of you have developed feelings for the other, but as always, neither of you have made a move.

“Are you going to pick out another boring story?” Minghao teases from beside you, and you shoot him a glare, “You stink.”  

Minghao smiles, about to poke fun at you again, only to stop when he takes notice of the young librarian standing at the end of the aisle, holding up two glasses of water. You turn to glance in the direction Minghao is staring in, and immediately grin when you lock eyes with Areum.

“Areum! Are you going to read with us today?” You ask as you and Minghao walk over, quietly thanking her for the beverage as you both take a sip. She grins, shaking her head, and you immediately pout. “Why not?”

“I’m still on my shift, and I know how much you two enjoy your time together.” Areum says with a wink, and you feel the warmth rising to your face in an instant, quietly cursing Areum for her comments about you and Minghao. 

Minghao clears his throat when Areum wiggles her eyebrows at him, and she smiles brightly at the two of you. “I’ll try and join you guys when I finish my shift, but just come to the front desk if you need anything.” 

You both nod your head and watch as Areum turns and leaves the aisle. Letting out a breath, you turn and pull out a soft yellow book from the shelf, before walking back over to you and Minghao’s designated reading spot in the back of the library. 

“What lame book did you get this time?” Minghao asks, and you scoff as you sit back down in the comfortable chair. You turn over so that you’re upside down, and he giggles at your strange position. “You’re lame.”

“Rude.” You grin at his response before holding out the book you chose, watching as the silver letters of the title reflect back at you. “It’s called, Second Life, I actually haven’t read this one before.”  

Minghao purses his lips at the unfamiliar name, and you turn the book around so that he can also get a good look at it. Nodding his head, he pulls open his book again, “It seems interesting.” 

“Wow, that’s the first time you didn’t call one of the books I chose, lame.” You joke, and Minghao chuckles. He shrugs his shoulders, turning to glance at you, only to find you already staring back at him. 

Feeling the air shift between the two of you, you turn away after staring at each other in silence, and open up to the first page of the story. Minghao bites the inside of his cheek, before looking away and going back into his book as well.

The three unspoken words are left lingering in his brain as he glances over his book to take a peek at you, only to look back down.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” You ask as you watch Minghao look through the numerous books on the shelf to try to figure out what to read. He halts his movements, turning to glance down at you. “Do you?” 

Shrugging your shoulders, you glance down at the book you hold in your hands as you recall what you felt the first moment you and Minghao locked eyes. The pretty man purses his lips, feeling his heart thump within his chest as he finally pulls out a book he decided to read. 

“I didn’t, originally.” Minghao begins, and you raise an eyebrow. He stays quiet for a second, debating on whether or not he should continue as you tilt your head to the side at his silence. Running a hand through your hair you ask, “What happened that made you change your mind?” 

Minghao turns towards you, and your eyes widen slightly when you take in how nervous he looks. He bites the inside of his cheek, rethinking his decision one more time. 

you can back out, there’s no reason to say anyth-

“Then I met you.” Minghao says softly, completely ignoring his rampant thoughts, and the two of you stare at each other in silence for a long time as you let his words soak in. He lets out a sad laugh at the shocked expression on your face, running a hand through his pretty red hair as he nods his head with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay, I understand-”

You take a step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, making the rest of Minghao’s words die in his throat. A smile forms on your face when you feel his arms tentatively wrap around your body, his hand moving to cradle your head. 

“You love me too?” Minghao asks, sounding breathless due to the shock of the feeling being mutual. You nod your head, closing your eyes when you hear his rapid heartbeat against your ear. 

“At first sight.” You mutter softly, and Minghao smiles at your words. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and the two of you stay like that for a while in the library aisle. Books that are in your grasp now forgotten as you hold each other.

Areum glances up when she hears the doors to the library open, and lets out a small smile when she sees you and Minghao walking in, fingers intertwined as you both immediately head towards the front desk to greet the young librarian. 

“Hi Areum!” You whisper excitedly, and Areum greets you and Minghao with just as much enthusiasm. Minghao watches with a fond smile when the two of you begin to discuss any strange customers walking into the library, and Areum grins when she catches sight of this.

You and Minghao have been dating for six months, and still manage to come to the library almost every weekend. Areum is sure that the two of you have read every single book in this library by now, but she doesn’t question it. She enjoys your guys’ company. 

“I’m going to set up our spot, are you gonna talk to Areum?” You ask Minghao once you and Areum finish your conversation on the guy who walked into the library just to look for any dust. Minghao nods his head, and you shoot him a thumbs up, before walking over to the reading spot. 

“Did you need something, Minghao?” Areum asks as she begins to sort through the books atop of her desk. Minghao nods his head, glancing over in the direction you walked off to see if you’ll hear anything. She raises an eyebrow when Minghao pulls out a book from the pocket on the inside of his jacket, watching as he places it in front of her. 

“Second Life? Are you returning this?” Areum asks, and Minghao shakes his head. He purses his lips, before pointing at the book with his finger as he grabs a pen. “I was wondering if I could buy it. It’s the book yn was reading when I confessed to her, and I think it’d be ni-”

“Of course!” Minghao’s eyes widen slightly when Areum scans the book, having not expected it to be that easy.

“Really? Are you sure I don’t have to go through a process to get the book or like-”

“Nope, just pay the cost and the book is yours. It’s not a big deal.” Areum reassures with a smile, only to internally slap herself when she realizes she’ll have to order another one later in her shift. 

Curse Minghao and yn for being the most precious couple ever.

“Thank you so much, Areum.” Minghao says as he hands her money to cover the cost of the book. She grins, nodding her head as she hands back then leftover change. Once the transaction goes through, Minghao open the book to the first page and clicks the pen. 

“Are you going to write a message?” Areum asks, and Minghao nods his head with a small smile on his face. She watches as the words make their way onto the page, and she feels her heart warm when he places the pen back down on the table. 

“Thank you so much for letting me buy this. I’m gonna go head to the back with yn, are you gonna join us to read later?” Areum nods her head with a smile, and Minghao shoots her a thumbs up. He turns and walks to the back where you are, and Areum lets out a happy sigh. 

“Never thought soulmates could be real until I saw those two.” Areum mutters to herself, chuckling when she hears you let out an awe, most likely due to Minghao handing you the book as a present. 

“Maybe I should leave the painting to you, huh?” You say as you take a step back to stare at your canvas, and Minghao hums when he turns around from his own creation to take a look at yours. He lets out a smile at the numerous smiley faces and flowers you painted, thinking that the painting is rather endearing. “I think it looks nice.” 

You scoff with a playful grin, pointing over at his painting that numerous different colors, all splattered onto the canvas. You don’t understand how he was able to make paint splatters look beautiful, but this is Xu Minghao we’re talking about. The most talented man you know. 

“Says the reincarnated Picasso over here.” You joke, and Minghao rolls his eyes. He places his paintbrush into the cup and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around the back of your shoulders and resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Yours is sweet, it speaks volumes on your personality.” Minghao explains, grinning at the excessive use of yellow. You squint at the painting, turning to glance up at your boyfriend, causing him to smile down at you. “Which is?”

Minghao purses his lips, glancing back at the painting once more to think about his response. He giggles, looking back down at you with a teasing smile on his face. 

“Someone who doesn’t know how to paint.” You reach out and slap his stomach, making him double over in laughter as you chuckle in response. Minghao lets out a happy sigh, finally calmed down from his joke as he stands back up at his full height. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips, before pulling away and grinning. “I’m kidding, art is whatever you want it to be. I’ll hang this up in my room when it dries.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, watching as Minghao walks back over to his painting to start cleaning up. You watch as he quietly hums a song to himself, and you let out a content sigh, ignoring the pain in your head in order to enjoy what’s going on in front of you. Minghao feels your eyes on him, and he turns back to see you smiling softly at him. 

“Mmm, you’re staring again.” Minghao murmurs as he places the paint tubes back into their container. You shrug your shoulders, a sad smile on your face as you stare at your pretty boyfriend, “I just like seeing you.” 

Minghao pauses, a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he proceeds to continue cleaning up. You grin, before turning back to start cleaning up your area as well, grimacing from the growing pain in your head that you’re trying to ignore. Minghao turns and catches sight of the sunlight casting a glow on your face, and he smiles softly. 

“I like seeing you too, yn.” 

Areum walks over to the front desk, moving to check back in the books that were returned, only to hear the bells of the door. She raises an eyebrow, only to let out a smile when she sees Minghao walking in. 

“Hey Minghao! Where’s yn? The two of you haven’t been here for a few months.” Areum says cheerfully, only to feel her heart fall slightly at the sad smile Minghao sends her way. He bites his lip as he walks over and rests his hands on the top of the desk. 

His long red hair isn’t styled like it usually is, instead just laying over his forehead. She takes notice of the dark bags under his eyes, and the slight hollowness to his cheeks. Areum opens her mouth to ask if everything’s alright, only to stop when Minghao places the soft yellow book face up on the desk. She stares at the cover, and slowly looks up at Minghao, trying to see if what she’s thinking isn’t true when she locks eyes with the pretty man whose face always held a smile when he was in the library with you. 

“Yn’s gone.” Minghao mutters softly, thumb grazing over the letters of the title on the book. Areum clenches her fist tightly together at her side, refusing to believe his words. Minghao bites the inside of his cheek harshly, before pushing the yellow book he bought towards Areum’s direction. 

“It’s yours now. Thank you for the kindness you showed yn and I whenever we came here, I know she appreciated it a lot.” Minghao tells Areum, before turning around to walk out. Areum’s eyes widen slightly, and she walks out from behind the desk and stands right behind the tall man.

“W-why does this sound like goodbye? You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Areum asks, eyes frantically searching Minghao’s when he turns to glance at her. He reaches out and softly pats Areum’s shoulder, giving her a smile that no longer holds any light. “Maybe if my second life is kind to me, then I’ll be back.” 

And with that, Minghao turns and walks out of the library, leaving Areum to stand there, sadness overcoming her heart as she watches his figure slowly shrink until it disappears.

“His name is Minghao?” Jun asks once Areum finishes the story, and she nods her head, taking a sip of water to fix her parched throat. Jeonghan and Jun share a glance, before turning back towards the librarian. “Did you ever hear from him after that?” 

Areum nods her head again, letting out a small smile. “He sent me a letter from Singapore a few years after he left the library, but I learned that he got into a car accident a month prior to when I received it. He passed at an early age, but I’m glad to hear that he was doing alright. It’s been maybe, 25 years since he passed.” 

Jeonghan purses his lips, glancing at the book Jun grabbed. He leans forward in the seat, and Areum glances up at him. “We actually have a friend named-”

“I didn’t think you guys would actually go to a library.” The three turn to glance at the sound of the voice, finding Minghao standing at the doorway with a bright smile on his face. Areum’s eyes widen, and she slowly stands up from the couch in shock at the sight. 

It’s Minghao, she thinks to herself as she stares at him. His hair is now its natural shade of black, a contrast to his long red hair years ago, but it’s still a similar length. He looks up and locks eyes with Areum, and he tilts his head to the side, a smile still on his face as he bows in her direction. “Hello, I’m Minghao.” 

Jun and Jeonghan glance at each other when they see the shocked expression on Areum’s face, and the pieces of the puzzle slowly make their way together when suddenly the bell on the door rings again. The three of them glance at the door, and Minghao slowly turns his head, just to feel his breath get caught in his throat. 

Your eyes widen slightly at all the people crowded near the door, and you stop when you realize someone is right in front of you. You glance up and lock eyes with the prettiest man you’ve ever seen, and all the thoughts in your brain disappear at the sight of him. A familiar feeling floods your senses, one that you can only relate to the feeling of coming home. 

Unbeknownst to you, Minghao is feeling the exact same thing. Except he feels more emotional as he stares down at you, heart pounding against his chest when he catches the sparkle in your eye.

Areum’s mouth drops open when she sees the exact same scene she saw 35 years ago when you and Minghao first met. Her heart thumps against her chest, and she slowly raises her hand until it rests against her heart as she stares at the two of you. 

“You look familiar, have we met before?” You ask in a small voice, letting out a smile when you catch sight of the redness to his ears. Minghao clears his throat, smiling when he sees the brightness to your eyes. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment longer, before you extend your hand in his direction. You tilt your head to the side with a shy smile on your face, “Hi, I’m yn.” 

Minghao bites the inside of his cheek, grinning when he reaches out and grasps your hand. He feels warmth flood his features at the contact, finding you both beautiful, and familiar. It’s as if he’s experiencing deja vu when he says, “Hi, I’m Minghao.” 

Jun and Jeonghan turn and look at the soft yellow book resting on the table, and Jun let's out a breathless chuckle. He runs his hand over the title, smiling when he looks back towards you and Minghao. 

“His second life. He found you again in his second life.”