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lokissweater · 10 months ago

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i know your name ✭

{gojo satoru x f!reader}

summary: gojo satoru was practically everyone’s god as his shiny charming reputation has followed him ever since high school and through college— his band he had with his best friend suguru packing the local college pub every night just to see him sing and play the bass. unbeknownst to you, satoru has been keeping an eye on you, and when you officially meet him right before one of his shows, satoru just about falls to his knees over you.

warnings: MDNI. college au, CAR SMUT be patient!!, fingering, squirting, a bit of oral hehe, cursing, angst, FLUFFF, FILTHY DIRTY TALK, a sprinkle of degradation, tinyyy mentions of alcohol and drinking, gojo is obsessed with reader, afab!reader, jealousy.

word count: 8.8k

authors note: oh my goodness this one took me a FAT MINUTE but it’s SO SO CUTE and i hope you all think so too!! thank you thank you for all of your notes on my works!! MWAHH.

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“please come with me to the alley, i don’t think i can handle one moron and an even bigger moron by myself.”

shoko shimmied her jacket onto her shoulders, a disgruntled and pleading look on her face as she turned to face you. “they’re only playing a few songs, and you don’t have to drink!”

you laughed softly. “who’s they?”

“suguru and satoru, they’re playing at the alley.”

“gojo satoru?”

the cogs in your brain spun as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, a bit apprehensive. the alley was the place everyone went to at your college to get drunk and laid, and it also happened to be the place where the two boys played their band almost every night— satoru mainly having connections with the owner of the bar to even allow a bunch of college kids to trash the place to begin with.

you didn’t necessarily know satoru, but in your years of observing him back in high school, you knew he was viewed by anyone and everyone as a god, his reputation shiny and impressive as he had the greatest charisma and charm you had ever seen.

you remember back to when basically every other day he was getting confessed to in the halls or in class— or after school… or literally anywhere now that you thought about it.

but satoru has never been prideful or rude, even though it was something that was supposed to be written for him being the most popular guy— but he just simply didn’t follow it.

satoru was kind. really kind. and even though he got millions of confessions per year, he treated each rejection with gentleness and respect, never turning a cold eye to anyone as he apologized profusely and tried to help them feel better.

he always volunteered to do your class banners and plan your school’s activities, festivals, and field trips so nobody else had the burden of missing out on the fun. he always helped out the gardener after school and watered the plants with them (soon after practically taking over the entire shift for free and telling them to relax on a bench), tutored his friends and peers when they asked him for help, and made anyone that felt left out feel included.

that’s why he was so popular. gojo satoru was a ray of sunshine with bright blue eyes and white ruffly hair, with a gorgeous face that you never saw without a smile— loud and obnoxious and a little clumsy, but kind.

“i still don’t know why they started a band.. but they get pretty big tips every night so i guess that’s why,” shoko muttered, sipping the last of her iced tea as she got up from her seat— the cafe you were both sitting in quiet and warm as you copied her actions and stood. “or could be because satoru likes the attention.”

you weren’t close with suguru or satoru like shoko was, and you’ve never even properly met them either, but you always listened to her whenever she’d complain and understood her completely nonetheless.

you laughed at her last comment and smiled. “i’ll go… but i can only stay for two songs! i have class at seven am tomorrow.”

she smiled wide and threw her arms around you, “thank you thank you thank you!”

you’ve never actually been to the alley before, only having heard about it through the grapevine and from your other classmates that went, parties and concerts and drinking never really on the schedule for you. you honestly loved parties and concerts, and you loved the idea of hanging out with people and doing whatever your hearts desired until the sun came up.

but ever since you started college, your high school group kind of disappeared, and now you only really have one true best friend that you preferred over anything else, that being shoko. your nights are usually always calm and filled with studying or self care, your little life quiet and independent as you navigated through the days on your own.

and although you were a bit lonely at times, yearning for another soul to share your nights with, you learned to enjoy your own company.

the alley was a couple of blocks down from the cafe you and shoko were originally at, your ears already picking up on the vibrations of guitars and drums from outside as she approached the bouncer at the front, not even being able to get a word in before the big man was already telling her no.

“no?!” shoko dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “i was literally here last week, i’m friends with the band that’s playing.”

“sorry we’re at max capacity—”

“it’s okay, they both can come in. they’re on stage with us.”

your eyes snapped to the door and you recognized geto suguru, his long jet black hair cascading down to his shoulders as he sported an all black outfit— politely smiling at the bouncer.

the man moved to the side and ushered us in, shoko’s shoulders dropping in relief as you both walked in and over to a table by the stage. “thank you suguru.”

he nodded. “if i don’t, satoru will throw another fit again and say you don’t love him if you don’t show up.”

shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “you see what i mean?”

“shoko!” a loud, booming and enthusiastic voice rang through the pub as you turned, spotting none other than satoru with his long arms open, more or less throwing himself on her. “you came!”

“you threatened me—”

“i did no such thing!” he sprung back. “are you not here out of the goodness of your heart? to support your two best boys living their dreams?”

“no.”

“shokooo!” he whined and you giggled, which caused him to snap his head in your direction, finally noticing your presence.

her.

“oh! hello,” he smiled kindly to you and extended his hand. “i’m satoru, and you are?”

“y/n!” you grinned sweetly and politely to him, taking his cold hand in yours and shaking it.

“are you a friend of shoko’s?”

you nodded.

he cocked his head to the side, “how come i’ve never seen you around?”

“oh i don’t go out too often, that’s probably why,” you laughed lightly, a little embarrassed by your answer.

he beamed anyways, his smile so big and brilliant that you were starting to see for yourself exactly why everyone loved him so much, not that you didn’t already know the reason behind it in the first place.

“me neither!”

satoru was still holding your hand.

“yes you do!” shoko scoffed. “you’re barely ever at your apartment and i always have to be your designated driver—”

he gawked, glaring at her. “that’s not true! i was home yesterday!”

“because you were hungover.” suguru mumbled.

you laughed again, and satoru turned back to face you, a grin on his face.

just then, a rather large group of guys started making their way towards your area, all beckoning and calling for satoru while holding up several shot glasses, his head snapping towards their direction and flashing a dazzling smile.

“satoru come!”

“satoru take some with us!”

he gently let go of your hand and raised his, waving high as he readjusted his black round sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “give me a second! i’ll be over!”

satoru turned back to you, resuming the conversation.

“sorry, she lies. she likes to lie. i’m glad i didn’t go to high school with her.”

“yes we did— i’m going over to your followers and stealing a shot, goodbye.” shoko grumbled, throwing her purse on the table and walking away, dragging suguru along with her.

“we actually um..” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “we went to high school together.”

“oh i know.”

your eyebrows pinched together.

he knows?

“you used to water the garden on days i couldn’t afterschool, right?”

your eyes widened a little.

“oh! and you used to fix the class banners whenever i didn’t notice my fuck up, which was always.” he patted the top of your head and laughed, “thank you for that by the way.”

“you knew?” you murmured, a rosy tint to your cheeks.

“duh,” his eyes softened. “i’m sorry i never thanked you properly then.”

you shook your head dumbly, a little spaced out as you took in what he said. “no it’s okay.”

your eyes then fell to the instruments and band set up behind him, suddenly remembering that he was performing tonight.

“so what do you guys play?” you spoke up gently, hands wringing behind your back. “do you play original songs? or covers?”

“covers! 80’s covers.” he explained excitedly. “suguru and i switch off singing. i play the bass and he plays the guitar, and we have a couple of extra friends in the back playing the drums and keyboard.”

your eyes sparkled as you watched the stage set up process, black chords scattered everywhere on the ground in disarray as several individuals on the platform tuned their instruments or plucked out a few notes.

“80’s?” you perked up. “what kind of 80’s?”

“what kind?”

“yeah! morissey? the cure? new order—”

satoru was awestruck, mouth slightly parted. “you know who they are?”

you quickly nodded, a cute smile on your face.

“you like the cure?” he asked quietly.

“i love the cure.”

satoru practically had hearts in his eyes as he beamed down at you with a stupid face, his heart a little frazzled with a familiar feeling sparkling in his chest.

“satoru!”

he snapped out of his trance and spun around, suguru on stage beckoning him over. “sorry, we have to start.”

“okay!” he walked backwards as he quickly faced you again and smiled, a little frantic. “i’ll talk to you after we play! i’m gonna quiz you on it so pay attention!”

you laughed, your hand covering your mouth a bit as you nodded. “is it counting towards my grade? or is it extra credit?”

“extra credit if you go on a date with me after the show!”

you stopped.

“she can’t! moron,” shoko suddenly appeared beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “she’s only staying for two songs!”

gojo’s jaw dropped slack, his shoulders slumping as he got up on stage, arms out. “two?!”

you grimaced, an apologetic look on your face and kind of feeling like a lame grandma as you nodded, “i have class at seven am tomorrow!”

before he could even respond, satoru got pulled by tech crew to test out his microphone, and you and shoko gradually settled yourselves on the high bar stool chairs at your table.

“odd,” she muttered with a funny look on her face.

“hm? what is?” your eyes switched to hers.

“satoru’s never asked a girl out before.”

your eyes bulged open. “never?”

“never.” shoko sipped a little at her beer and gave you a comforting smile. “i’ve always seen girls try it with him and ask him out or simply just follow him around like a lost dog, but he’s never gone after anyone.”

you watched a little smirk spread across her face, and your hands grew a tiny bit sweaty as you swallowed thickly.

“if you’re interested in him, there’s a line. but i think you have a head start.”

the music started— suguru introducing himself, satoru, and the band calm and pleasantly before they began playing their first song. it was loud and rhythmic, vibrations murmuring through the floor as your glass of water shook on the table with every note.

they weren’t bad at all— they were actually pretty good, really good, and you found yourself not really wanting to admit it since it seemed like satoru was good at a million different things regardless of category or genre.

“do they have a name for their band?!” you yelled over the music, leaning your frame a little closer to her without taking your eyes off of the stage.

shoko snorted, “the strongest monkeys.”

you threw your head back and laughed loudly, looking at her incredulously. “really?!”

as he performed on stage, satoru noticed you laugh and he smiled against the microphone, a vision he connected back to high school, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he was internally a little unsteady as your pretty eyes watched him play and sing— feeling embarrassed whenever he would trip over a chord clumsily like he seemed to do at every freaking show, but feeling better seeing as it made you giggle.

by the end of their second song, you showed shoko the time on your phone and tried to stand as discretely as possible in attempts at not disturbing anyone around you, grabbing your purse from the arm of your chair and swinging it over your shoulder.

but when you looked up, satoru was already looking at you as suguru spoke through the microphone, his eyes wide and pleading as he held up his index finger.

“one more song!” he mouthed. “please.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip anxiously, your eyes darting around the pub and back to the time on your phone before they landed again on satoru.

“stay.” he mouthed again.

and for reasons you couldn’t explain, your body pulled you back down on the stool and you sat— shoko quirking an eyebrow at you in confusion.

satoru’s face broke out into the brightest smile, a smile equivalent to the blinding rays of the sun as he pushed up his round sunglasses and gave you a cute thumbs up.

“thank you.”

and your heart stuttered.

you eventually decided to stay for the rest of the show, seeing as it was already late as fuck anyways— and they played few more songs then, a mix of well known 80’s songs as well as a few underrated ones, your head nodding gently to the beat and swaying your little shoulders. in the midst of it, satoru had been watching and glancing in your direction so many times throughout the show, that he subconsciously started mimicking your little shoulder sway on stage as he performed.

college girls screamed practically every five minutes when the boys did anything, some even going as far as running up the platform and reaching up for satoru’s hands or ankles as he played, him smiling bright at each and every one of them with shoko shaking her head in disappointment— her forehead falling to the palm of her hand as you laughed.

ironically by the end of it, the band closed with the cure, and as the crowd dispersed and several took their leave from the alley— some shouting words of praise at the boys, you and shoko stood and walked over to the stage. satoru in a heartbeat noticed you coming over and hooked his mic quickly back on the mic stand, tossing the strap of his bass over his shoulders and setting it down before hopping off stage.

“did you like it?” he panted hopefully, trying to catch his breath as his forehead glistened with sweat, his hands on his hips.

you smiled gently. “i did! good job, you both played really great songs.”

suguru gave you a small smile in gratitude from the platform as he unplugged and untangled a few chords— and satoru beamed, nodding. “i’m glad! okay, here comes your quiz!”

“oh god.”

“we played the cure at the end…” satoru dragged out.

“mhm…”

“what song?” he tilted his head to the side, and your cheeks went pink as you grinned.

“pictures of you,” you replied softly. “it’s my favorite one.”

satoru’s forehead fell to rest against your shoulder, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“i would expect nothing less from you, y/n.”

you hummed out a laugh, and his heart did a tiny somersault at the sound before he picked his head back up and looked at you softly.

“thank you for staying.”

shoko bounded over to you then and looped her arm through yours. “ready to go?”

you nodded quickly before smiling sweetly at satoru. “i’ll see you around! thank you for—”

“wait!” he shot his arms out frantically with wide eyes. “what about our date?”

you froze. “our date?”

“unless you want the quiz to count towards your grade…” he mumbled lowly, eyes darting on everything and everywhere except you with pinky cheeks.

“i didn’t think you were being serious about that..” you spoke gently.

his eyebrows furrowed. “why not?”

“because you’re gojo satoru,” shoko butt in.

you quickly flicked her forehead— your lips pressed into a thin line, earning a little laugh from satoru as you turned your head to look at him again.

“i have an early class tomorrow… ill see you around though, okay?”

without thinking, satoru reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you to face him.

“let me take you to class.”

shoko and suguru exchanged a look and your lips parted, eyebrows pinching together.

“what?”

“i’ll take you to class in the morning,” he looked desperate. “and i won’t count the quiz towards your grade.”

you were skeptical, very skeptical, unsure of what satoru wanted from you in this situation. you had just met him, properly at least, and though you knew he was a good person, you weren’t sure if that was still relevant in the field of picking up girls.

you looked to shoko, who shrugged, and your eyes landed back to satoru’s pleading one’s, your entire body and soul hesitating.

“i—” you gnawed at your bottom lip, a nervous habit as you took in the way he looked like a sad little puppy the longer you took to respond, your heart not having the ability to ever say no to anyone, ever. not even him.

“okay.”

his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a puff of relieved air as he gave you the biggest smile, nodding hopefully.

“okay! h—here-” he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. “if i could— if i could have your number? and i’ll text you when im on my way and stuff…”

you shakily took satoru’s phone, the screen already opened up to the ‘add contact’ feature as you typed in your number before passing it back to him.

“thank you!” he beamed. “i’ll see you tomorrow then?”

he was so excited, and you really didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but give him a sweet smile of yours in return, nodding.

“see you.”

when you finally arrived home that night, it didn’t take satoru even ten minutes after that to text you.

(unknown): i have good news for you miss y/n

you stared at your phone, your heart jumping a bit as you typed back a response.

(you): and i have bad news for you satoru

(satoru): WHAT

(satoru): ok wait me first

(satoru): congrats you passed my class!! that quiz bumped up your grade from 0% to 100% ur so smart

(satoru): but if your bad news is you rejecting me i’m FAILING you

(you): HAHAHAHA

(you): silly silly

(you): my bad news was that i always have banana milk on my way to school in the mornings and unfortunately i don’t have any extra for you :(

(you): i ran out ;(

within the two minutes that it took for you to respond with your declared bad news, satoru was absolutely shitting it, wholeheartedly believing you were going to reject him and leave him to dramatically rot away all alone.

he replied quickly, a goofy smile on his face.

(satoru): that’s literally the only reason why i asked you out :(

(you): and how do you know i have banana milk in the mornings before school?

(satoru): OH

(satoru): SO ABOUT TOMORROW

you giggled, wiping the last of your makeup off and turning off your vanity light before jumping into bed, snuggling into your covers as the cool air softly touched your face from your open window.

(you): *address*

(you): pick me up at 6:30 please, if that’s okay :)

(satoru): i’ll pick you up at six miss y/n

(you): SIX WHY

(satoru): for a breakfast date silly!! okay goodnight xoxo

you hadn’t even realized the huge stupid smile on your face until your rosy cheeks started to ache.

(you): HAHAHA

(you): goodnight <3

a heart?!

satoru stuffed his face into his pillow, feeling like little love birdies were flying around his head and pecking at his hair.

the following morning, you ran your fingers through your hair and probably fixed your outfit a million trillion times before you were satisfied, a huge lump in your throat as you gnawed so much at your bottom lip that it drew blood.

you were nervous, but why? you didn’t know why. maybe because it was gojo satoru picking you up. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had a guy try to hit on you in what felt like a decade, the last time really being the last day of high school when you randomly found a note in your locker, the words literally illegible.

maybe it was the fact that satoru was the most handsome man you have ever seen.

but so was he to everybody else.

(satoru): i’m outside! :]

you wiped your clammy hands on your legs and stood, hiking your school bag further up your shoulder before walking down the stairs and out the door, seeing satoru seated in his car in your driveway.

you timidly opened the door to the passenger side and stepped in.

“hi!” he greeted cheerfully and proceeded to place his hand on the back of your headrest as he backed out, looking through his rear view mirror.

“hi!” you said gently. “you’re not tired?”

“nuh uh,” he smiled at you. “i had three energy drinks before i got you.”

your head instantly whipped in his direction. “satoru— three?!”

he giggled at your reaction, the sides of his blue eyes crinkling as he patted your head. “don’t worry silly, i’ve had maybe five at a time before—”

“five?!”

you slumped against the passenger seat and closed your eyes. “satoru, you’re gonna develop heart problems if you keep this up.”

“nah,” he reached into the backseat, his eyes still on the road. “i’m the strongest.”

and you snorted then, watching him retrieve two small bottles of juice from the back without taking his eyes off of the road.

“i got us orange juice— wait do you like orange juice? oh fuck maybe—”

you giggled and waved him off, taking both bottles from his hands. “it’s okay! i do like orange juice, thank you.” you settled them on your lap neatly. “i’ll hold them while you drive.”

“aww thanks sweets,” he murmured affectionately, and your face instantly went warm to the touch.

“i also got us breakfast bagels so we can sit and people watch before your class—” his eyes snapped to yours. “if— if that’s okay.”

your heart skipped a beat at his planning, nodding as you reached into your school bag and pulled out a little yellow carton, holding it out for him as he drove.

satoru tore his gaze away from the road momentarily and looked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“your daily morning banana milk?”

you smiled softly, nudging it towards him. “for you.”

he physically melted as he looked at your sweet sweet face and back towards the road.

“you’re giving up your banana milk— for me?”

you tore off the straw from the back of the milk box, sticking it through the little opening and offering it to him again.

“yup yup.”

he bit his lower lip as he gratefully took the milk box from you, giddy and flustered on the inside as he took tiny sips.

“an absolute delicacy, thank you miss y/n.”

before you even realized it, satoru was already pulling in to the campus parking lot, shifting his gear into park and turning off the ignition before opening his door.

“don’t move!” he sputtered suddenly. “don’t touch that door hold on—”

he slammed his door shut and you watched quizzically as he ran across the front of the car and opened the door for you, flashing an award winning smile that could shatter the earth if he wanted to.

you still couldn’t piece together why he was doing so much for you or why he was interested in the first place, but as you watched him set up the breakfast bagels cutely as you both sat on the bench, him carefully handing you yours along with your orange juice, you didn’t really have the heart to ask him why.

maybe it was the more selfish side of you, the one that always longed to share little moments like this with another being, the one that always spent her days alone watching movies or doing little crafts in her room to keep the time going, a bittersweet feeling in your chest every time you saw your classmates or casual friends post about their parties or outings.

you hadn’t realized that you didn’t respond to whatever satoru had said, and you snapped out of it.

“fuck— i’m sorry satoru, i spaced out.” you laughed softly. “what were you saying?”

he stared at you, his eyes examining your face. “what’s wrong?”

“huh?”

“what were you thinking about?”

“it was— it was nothing,” you took a sip of your orange juice. “i forgot.”

satoru shoved his face close to yours, your breath hitching and your cheeks growing pink as you watched his eyes scan every part of you, his expression concerned.

“something’s bothering you,” he hummed. “am i being too forward? i’m— i’m sorry sometimes i don’t even realize—“

“no!” you shot your arms out frantically and placed them on his shoulders, “no, it’s not that, you’re okay satoru. everything you’ve done has been really nice, so thank you.”

your voice was so sweet as you spoke to him, and even though it made him feel better to some degree, he still couldn’t shake the empty and sad look he saw on your face when you were spaced out.

he slowly retreated back and hesitantly nodded as you placed your hands back on your lap, your fingers then tearing a piece from your breakfast bagel and plopping it into your mouth.

“did you ever find…” he spoke in between bites. “a note in your locker the last day of high school?”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “how do you know about that?”

he swallowed, a sheepish look on his face. “that was me. i put that note in.”

your eyes widened as your body completely froze over, putting your bagel down— the wrapper crinkling underneath as you did so.

“really?”

satoru nodded, his flushed cheeks prominent on his pale skin as he suddenly found his bagel super interesting to look at.

“what did it say?”

he looked at you baffled. “what did it say? what do you mean?”

you giggled then, your hand covering your mouth as you leaned forward a little bit. “i could— i could barely read it. the handwriting-“

“oh my fucking god!” satoru threw his arms up in despair. “that explains so much. i was so sad i straight up thought you hated me.”

you stopped. “what do you mean?”

“i wrote my name and how i thought you were really pretty, and then i wrote my number at the bottom.” he dropped his shaking head in his hands, laughing. “but i wrote it really fast because i saw you coming so i just stuffed it in there.”

he slumped over his legs on the bench, his elbows on his knees as he moaned.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked softly.

he turned his head to the side as he was hunched over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he smiled gently. “very.”

gojo satoru thought you were pretty.

you smiled cutely at him, reaching out and pushing his sunglasses back up his eyes, yours warm and endearing. “silly.”

you leaned back on the bench and giggled. “to be fair satoru, even if i was able to read your note, i probably would’ve thought it was a prank.”

“a prank? why?” his shoulders deflated, an unamused look on his face. “because i’m ‘gojo satoru’ like shoko said—”

“no,” you pushed. “because you’re a good person. you always go above and beyond for others and i’ve seen that as long as i’ve known you.”

you crossed a leg over the other and smiled softly. “and because of that i’m really not sure why you like me satoru, i haven’t really done anything special but—”

“what you just said is a crime. the way you think about me is the way i think about you.” he cut in, eyes serious. “you think you don’t do anything special? i literally watched you all through high school bend over backwards for people, for me, like i did,“ he sighed through his nose. “but your intentions were genuine and pure, mine were not.”

he finished the last of his bagel and crumpled up the wrapper into a ball, tossing it in the trash can next to him as he leaned back.

satoru swallowed. “i feel like if i don’t do the things that i do for people, ill end up disappointing everyone i know. i feel like everyone’s built this image of me that i don’t even know where the fuck it came from—” he shook his head. “but i don’t want to tarnish that. i don’t want to let people down. so i just let them ask me for stuff. i don’t even like going out that much either, believe it or not. i just go when they call.”

he crossed his arms. “whenever people do do something in return for me, it’s like i’m forever in their debt and they’re always expecting something from me back.”

your sad eyes softened, the confession in front of you a reaction from him you realized must’ve been buried deep deep down his chest— without any prior chance of resurfacing until this very moment.

you never thought about his situation this way. you would’ve never thought that satoru could’ve felt like this about his own reputation, something you guiltily believed was a thing he was absolutely floored over.

“you never expected anything back from me though,” he murmured. “you fixed my fucked up banners and switched around reservations when i absentmindedly chose the wrong thing for our school field trips, and you never said a word about it to me or anyone, and you didn’t expect anything back.”

he finally turned his bright blue eyes in your direction, and looked at you so deeply, so sincerely, that your mind went completely blank.

“that’s why i like you,” satoru bashfully scratched his cheek. “you do special things everyday and— and i was moved.”

there was a moment of silence, satoru staring at the ground as you stared at him, a delicate and insecure side of him unfolding before you that you don’t think anyone has ever seen, and you intended to keep it that way— wanting this special moment selfishly just for you.

you slowly leaned forward then as you made him look at you.

“its natural for you to be upset and think indifferently about people walking all over you, toru. it doesn’t mean you’re not genuine or pure.”

raising your arm, you poked his pink cheek gently and gave him a little comforting smile. “it actually only further solidifies to me how much of a good person you are. because even though people take advantage of your kindness, you help them with what they need regardless, and do way more.”

his eyes softened.

“at the end of the day, even though it makes you a little mad, you want to help people, because if you didn’t, you simply wouldn’t do it.”

you nudged his shoulder playfully with yours, “but not anymore, okay? from now on when people are blatantly taking advantage of how nice you are, you have to draw a line they can’t cross.”

he smiled wide.

“i’d let you cross it.”

“no not even me,” you shook your head. “not that’d i’d ever anyways.”

he looked at you, and then unexpectedly, satoru slowly leaned in and pressed a delicate, soft kiss to your cheek— his lips lingering there greedily for a few seconds more before pulling away, your shocked bright pink cheeks making him burst out laughing.

you missed class without even realizing, but you didn’t have an ounce of care in your body, seeing as satoru was worth more than anything from that point on.

since then you both hung out a lot more, and you still had your little quiet nights of self care, arts and crafts, and movies— except now, satoru was present in every activity.

satoru longed for your lifestyle, and you longed for his— so the act of watching movies together until two in the morning, making horrific origami bird shapes that never looked like the pictures in the instruction manual and laughing, sorting through his 80’s cd collection in his apartment while he sampled a few for you on his bass, and singing the cure so loud through his car sunroof while he drove you aimlessly at night with a strong grip on your thigh, were all a perfect blend of exactly what you both needed most.

it was several months of spending every waking moment together that you soon eventually became a little thing with satoru. there wasn’t an official label, and you guys hadn’t even kissed, but the longer than normal embraces, kisses on each others cheeks, and intertwined fingers everywhere you went was an obvious sign that something was there.

you picked up on how people looked at you more often rather quickly ever since satoru started bringing you around his circle, wondering how you came out of nowhere and captured his attention when thousands had tried for years.

and though most welcomed you with open arms and kind smiles, the majority of his girl fan base was bitter.

shoko often told you to just shake it off and not pay any mind to it, saying that it was a bunch of mean girls with nothing better to do, but it got a little harder once a pretty black haired girl named lina started grabbing satoru for conversations almost every night at the alley.

and today was no different.

“hi sweets!” satoru greeted you enthusiastically, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as you arrived early to the pub to help him and suguru set up for tonight’s show. “you look very pretty today.”

“thank you!” you smiled wide and leaned up on your tippy toes, your body automatically pulling your lips to his until you quickly steered them to the corner of his mouth, pecking lightly before settling back down on the soles of your feet.

that wasn’t the first time you had almost accidentally kissed him, but it wasn’t just you, as satoru slipped up almost every second of every day when you both were together— the thought making you laugh internally as you followed him to the stage.

“don’t help out this time—” he pleaded gently with you as he took a high barstool chair for you and dragged it closer to the stage. “i want you to just sit and be pretty.”

you tilted your head to the side. “why toru? i don’t mind helping out i like it—”

“no i know!” he smiled sweetly at you. “but i want you to just sit there and relax and not lift a finger tonight. you’ll hurt yourself if you do.”

you giggled softly and nodded, hopping up on the stool and wringing your fingers together on your lap as you watched satoru set up his amp and readjust his mic stand, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched the way his biceps and chest looked in his black compression tee.

“are you thirsty sweets?” he asked, his eyes trained to the ground as he untangled a bunch of chords and threw them behind him. “i can get you something from the bar?”

“oh no!” you shook your head quickly. “it’s okay toru you’re busy—”

satoru hopped off the stage and jogged over to the bar, him exchanging a few words with the bartender that you couldn’t quite make out until he jogged back over with a cold glass of sugary iced tea, placing it on your table under a coaster.

“for you.”

you smiled sheepishly, “thank you.”

“if you need—”

“satoru! hey!”

you snapped your head over to the entrance and saw lina, her wave a little flirty as she bounced over to the both of you.

lina only spared you a glance before her sparkling suggestive eyes landed back on satoru.

“oh hey?” he looked over at the clock on the wall. “im sorry, the alley doesn’t open for another two hours—”

“oh i know!” she twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. “i just wanted to stop by and see if you needed any help? you know, setting up?”

what.

your eyebrows pinched together and you looked at satoru, waiting for his answer.

“oh! um— sure! thanks!” he smiled at her, and you felt a pang of annoyance through your chest as you watched him lead her on stage and give her directions, much like how he did for you when you helped out.

you crossed a leg over the other and looked away.

satoru wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t like you could say anything or feel the way that you did… but then again, isn’t he kind of? you didn’t know, and the more you wracked your brain to try and figure out what exactly the both of you were, the angrier you got at the situation in front of you.

satoru flashed lina his world famous dazzling smile, cracked joke after joke and made her laugh, helped her when she went “confused” and helpless, and even showed her basic chords on his bass when she asked.

you pursed your lips, eyes narrowed. satoru was smiling at her the way he smiled at you and cracking jokes the way he joked with you, and your jealousy only grew as you let your mind wander if the way satoru treated you was actually anything significant if he was willing to do it for some random girl.

you sat there for what had felt like forever, people starting to pile in for the show as the alley opened, and you hopped off the stool bitterly to cool off in the restroom, not bothering to let satoru know.

just as you got in line, you felt a hand tug at your wrist.

“y/n!”

you turned around and spotted shoko, smiling until she took in your annoyed expression.

“what’s wrong?”

“lina,” you muttered.

“oh god,” shoko leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “what the fuck is she doing now?”

“satoru help me, satoru how many chords does a bass have? satoru you’re so good at singing! satoru you owe me after this!” you mimicked, your heart heavy as you let shoko lead you back to your table.

“she’s getting braver,” she muttered. “say the word y/n and i’ll fake trip and spill my drink on her it’s easy—”

you snorted, “no no, it’s okay shoko. if satoru wants to let himself be drooled over and do nothing about it in respects to me, he can be my guest.”

the show started, girls already screaming and running up the stage with, of course, lina front and center by satoru, jumping and wiggling her sick fingers up at him.

satoru was like he normally was at his shows— attentive to everyone and being just who he is, but what ticked you off more than usual was how much attention he was paying to lina, way more than the rest, and you couldn’t even watch the stage anymore when satoru reached down and held her hand for a moment, not once glancing up at you.

you were done.

“i think i’m gonna go!” you shouted to shoko over the music.

“what?!” shoko grabbed your arm. “don’t go! it’s almost over! i wanna see you chew him out!”

you laughed and shook your head. “i can’t stand being here, and he clearly doesn’t care whether i’m here or not right now so—”

more screams.

both of your heads snapped to the source.

lina was on stage with him.

you scoffed and grabbed your purse, ignoring shoko’s protests as you pushed your way through the crowd and away from the stage.

when satoru finally decided to scan for you through the pub, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your seat empty and shoko glaring straight murderous daggers at him.

“where is she going?” he mouthed to shoko.

“home!” she spat loudly, getting up herself and disappearing through the crowd.

satoru’s eyes immediately widened, his fingers clammy and numb as he started to pluck the wrong notes, suguru giving him a weird look.

“carry the show without me,” satoru quickly told him, frantic. “please, i have to go.”

suguru nodded and waved him off, seeming like he knew why satoru’s skin was sickishly pale as he carried on calmly.

it wasn’t like you to just leave without him or not tell him anything, so as he threw the strap of his bass over his shoulders and handed it to a tech member, he hopped off stage and ran through the crowd, ignoring their pleas of protest or the tugging he felt at his clothes.

you were halfway down the parking lot when you heard the pub door slam open and footsteps running towards you.

“sweets!—” satoru yelled. “hey- where are you going?!”

“home!” you yelled over your shoulder, arms crossed as you kept walking.

satoru’s stomach dropped.

“y/n!” he caught up to you and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around as he tried to catch his breath. “why? are you okay?”

“just fine!” you spat. “why don’t you go back on stage and drool all over lina—”

“lina?” he gawked. “drool? what are you talking—”

you shrugged his hands off of your shoulders. “do you not see how she’s been all over you for what seems like fucking months?! and you just let her! i’ve been ignoring it but today you really pissed me off—”

you turned away again and he immediately grabbed your waist with his hands, pulling you back.

“hey- no. tell me what i did okay just tell me—”

you scoffed. “you really don’t see it? first of all she came to the alley two fucking hours early today, and then she’s all over you and you’re all over her and you’re smiling at her and making her laugh like you do with me, and then she’s playing the little damsel in distress helping you set up while i just sat there and watched—”

“all over her?” his eyes narrowed. “i couldn’t give less of a shit about lina—”

“apparently you do!” you moved away from him, his hands falling from your hips. “because she’s giving you the ‘i wanna fuck you eyes’ every two seconds, and you’re holding her hand while you’re on stage, and then you literally pulled her on?! what the fuck am i supposed to think with that?!”

“i didn’t pull her on she jumped on!” satoru exclaimed, his arms out. “i’m sorry sweets that i didn’t notice okay i really am, but have you stopped to think that maybe i didn’t notice because i don’t care about her? i—”

“satoru you’ve been completely ignoring me the minute she got here—”

“toru.” he cut you off, voice firm. “it’s toru not satoru.”

you stopped, frustrated and hurt tears slowing brimming your eyes as you looked at him. “maybe you being a little flirt for everyone was okay before, but the minute you decided to butter me up and kiss my cheeks and call me sweets, that should’ve been over.”

“it is!” he exclaimed. “it’s been over! it never even started in the first place!”

“yes it did! you think i haven’t been watching how you are with people since high school?— you know what i’m done. i’m leaving.”

you sniffled and spun around again, but satoru only grabbed your wrist tightly and wrung you back.

“you think i haven’t been watching you?! i’ve loved you since fucking high school god dammit! i’m obsessed with you! when we officially met at the alley and i introduced myself i already knew your name and you know that! i don’t give a single living fuck about lina or anyone else but you! it’s always been you!”

you wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve.

gojo satoru loved you.

“so no. you’re not done. please don’t cry. all i’ve ever wanted was you and i let you slip through my hands in high school because i was a coward, and id rather die than let you slip through my fucking hands again and lose you over a stupid fight when i just got you!—”

“you’re not losing me i’m not going anywhere toru where the hell are you getting that from?!” you exclaimed.

“thank fuck then, so what are we still doing?! i’d cut everyone in my life off if you asked me to!—”

“no don’t do that! i was just jealous okay and i’m— and i’m angry—”

“okay but do you love me?!” he pushed angrily.

“yes! of course i do you know that!”

“okay so do i baby so what the fuck are we still fighting for?!”

“i don’t know!”

“stop giving me your little attitude then and come kiss me!”

your lips instantly collided with his as you threw your arms around his neck, fast hurried kisses that knocked the wind out of you as you both hungrily and fiercely tried to swallow each other’s lips, satoru tapping the back of your thighs and signaling you to jump on him.

you immediately sprung up and wrapped your legs around his waist, him holding you tight as he carried you over to his car and leaned you against the backseat door, his lips messily licking and swiping over yours as he seemed drunk on the taste of your sweet spit alone.

satoru dug through his pockets without breaking from your lips and found his keys, unlocking his car with a tap of a button and gently lowering you inside, him scrambling in after you and slamming the door shut, locking it.

he towered over you as he latched his lips back on yours, you laying flat on your back with your legs spread, satoru’s big cold hands on the sides of your thighs as he slowly slid your tiny little denim skirt further up— right up until he felt your silky panties under his fingertips.

“i gotta—” he said in between kisses. “take them off—”

you nodded quickly. “please take them off—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish before he practically tore your panties down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, his breathing erratic.

“oh my goodness,” he spread your legs gently, eyes completely wide and glazed over as he looked at your slick and shiny pussy. “you’re so pretty baby, just like how i pictured you.”

he ran a finger down your slit and your hips jumped, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you let out a symphony of whines that satoru wanted to record on his phone and play morning, noon, and night for himself and his dick.

he stared mesmerized at your fuzzy pink cheeks and swollen wet lips as he slowly rubbed over your clit, you immediately grabbing his unoccupied hand and sticking his middle finger in your mouth to suck in response.

“oh my god—” he threw his head back, his delicious adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

he felt you bob your head up and down slowly on his finger and his head snapped down, eyes widening as he watched you act like a little slut for him, his hands with a mind of their own as he inserted his unoccupied middle finger in your slurping hole.

you let out a muffled gasp through the digit in your mouth and you spread your legs wider, his long and mouthwatering finger pumping in and out of you slowly, satoru’s body literally shivering at the sounds of your warm squelching pussy.

“listen to her baby…” he hummed. “she’s so fucking loud for me… how embarrassing.”

“toruuu,” you whined at his teasing, clamping your legs shut as you felt the tip of his finger hit that sweet spot in your walls that made your toes curl.

“open your legs.” he demanded. “who said you could close them, hm? i sure fucking didn’t.”

satoru picked up the pace and slipped in his ring finger without warning, your walls stretching and filling up as he abused your little cunt rapidly.

“you ever squirted before baby?” he huffed out, lips eating up your neck as you shuddered, your body jolting up and down at how fast he was fingering you.

you shook your head dumbly. “n—no, i don’t think i can—”

satoru laughed and bit your neck meanly. “yes you can sweets, your little pussy was just waiting for me to do it.”

he went even faster, a series of slap slap slap’s filling the car as his palm and digits hit your cunt repeatedly, sticky and soppy as he moaned over and over in your ear, absolutely intoxicated with the sloshing noises of your pussy and the way it was speaking to him, satoru utterly and incandescently obsessed with everything that was you.

“m—my god—” he panted, his pace brutal and animalistic as his long fingers rapidly plunged into your gummy hot hole, his tongue licking and slopping all over the side of your neck, your moans straight up filthy as the windows of his car fogged up.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—” he dragged his mushy kisses from your neck up to your chin and back to your lips. “be my girlfriend—” slap slap slap— “p-please be my girlfriend be my girlfriend i need you so bad i c-can’t live without you anymore—”

you eagerly nodded, your thighs shaking as you gripped his shoulders and tried to keep up with his kisses that swallowed your lips up hole. “y-yes— mph! i will toru i will—”

his car shook violently as he fucked your cunt with his fingers without mercy, an unfamiliar intense feeling bubbling up at the pit of your stomach as he did so, your entire pussy pulsing and swollen as you squealed, massive droplets of liquid spraying all over satoru and the leather seats of his car.

“fuck yes baby, give me what i want that’s it—”

satoru groaned so loudly as you squirted, him jerking his nasty fingers to selfishly get more out of you.

“thaaaats it sweets—” he panted, slowing down. “that’s it.”

you evidently blacked out at this point, your brain misty and distorted as you tried to come down from your delirious high, a high you’ve never ever felt before with your own digits.

satoru licked his fingers raunchily and lowered his face to your pussy, cleaning up any remnants and left over drops on your thighs and pussy with his perverted tongue, your body jerking and you whining again as you shut your thighs closed in overstimulation.

he came back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before flashing you the biggest most innocent smile, as if he didn’t just absolutely destroy your cunt minutes ago without grace.

slowly, you regained a sense of direction and finally looked at him properly as he sat down and pulled you gently up by his arms, your body practically limp as he settled you on his lap and hugged you affectionately, his cheek squished up against your forehead.

“so can you squirt or what.” he teased softly, a smile still on his face.

you giggled shyly and buried your face in his neck. “i made a mess.”

“that’s literally what i wanted don’t even start.” he mumbled, and you laughed again, louder this time.

“were you serious about me being your girlfriend?” you asked suddenly, your voice smaller and timid. satoru pulled back and tilted his head, catching your eyes with his.

“of course i was,” he said quietly. “i literally begged you while my fingers were knuckle deep in—”

you covered your face with your hands and laughed with a whine. “stop! okay okay! i get it.”

you took your face away from his neck and looked at him properly, tilting your head cutely as your eyes shined and sparkled with affection, him giving you the same look back as you leaned up and pecked his lips lovingly.

“you know…” you began. “when we first properly met and you asked me out that night, shoko told me there was a line i had to stand in if i was interested in you.”

satoru snorted, his eyebrows raised. “a line?”

you nodded. “mhm. you literally can’t pretend there isn’t one toru… and lina is in it too,” you finished off, snickering.

he rolled his eyes and huffed, feigning annoyance, but when he looked at you again, he only smiled and stared at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, a blush to his pale cheeks that never seemed to go away as long as you were around.

“line or not—” he sincerely spoke.

“you’ve always been the first one.”

6K notes · View notes

xervn · 6 months ago

Text

melatonin

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 2

ao3 link

summary: you're forced to go on a business trip with your least favorite coworker and share a room with her. now you can't sleep.

18+ MDNI | 4.1k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, sevika is nonchalant fr, reader is a brat, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, scissoring, begging kink, praise kink kinda, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

new record; took me 4 days to write. i don't know who possessed me. i love enemies to lovers so bad FUCKKKK!!!

“One room.” The motel owner, an old, short, and grotesque-looking woman with a thick accent, says.

“One room? Clear another one out then?” You insist, mildly threateningly. The woman’s eyes glaze over as she blinks. She’s not moved.

“There are two beds; who cares?” Sevika grumbles, clearly over your antics.

You shoot a glare in her direction, lip forming into a scowl. “I’m not sharing a room with you; you look like you snore.”

She tells you something along the lines of go fuck or kill yourself (you weren’t really listening) before pushing past you and replacing the room keys on the counter with a stack of silver cogs.

The owner collects the cogs with a grunt before adjusting her small reader glasses. Sevika strides off towards the rooms, and you quickly turn after her.

“Couldn’t you have tried to help?” You ask. Your eyes burn a hole through the side of her face.

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “You’re dramatic, and I don’t have the patience to deal with your bullshit right now.”

You hate her. You fucking hate her. You’ve been working alongside Sevika for two years now, yet you can’t shake the feeling. It started when you first met; Sevika was cold and critical, reprimanding you even though you were young and starting out. That’s not even what drove you to hate her, though; at least back then it felt like she was looking out for you, but you were painfully mistaken when you got promoted within the year.

You don’t know what it was; jealousy, doubt, but her distaste for you only grew more apparent. There were fewer critiques and more insults about how you work or about your intelligence. Insufferable. She was insufferable.

There hasn’t been a day she’s been likable since then, so imagine your reaction when Silco tells you and her to go on a little business trip to Bilgewater. No matter how much the both of you wanted to protest, you didn’t. Instead you two argued amongst yourselves the whole trip there.

Why would you want to spend even more unnecessary time around her?

The minute you guys enter your room, you don’t speak a single word to each other, let alone look each other’s way. You take turns using the restroom to get ready for bed, and then you find a place for your belongings, and Sevika ejects her bionic arm for the night. Although you two definitely don’t like each other, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust each other. You know she won’t rob you; she knows you won’t (can’t) take advantage and kill her. That’s the only semblance of peace you share.

—

A faint amber light soaks through your eyelids, and you blink them open to the popcorned ceiling. You toss and turn in your bed, rustling around, unable to find a good position, and it doesn’t help that the cheap mattress is, well, cheap. You can’t sleep. You’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it’s never been a real problem before; you’d just stay up. Yes, you have permanent eye bags because of it, but it’s not like you can choose otherwise. You‘re from Zaun; any aid for it is not exactly accessible.

However, the meeting you have tomorrow is important, so it’s important that you find a way. You can’t afford to slack off or doze off during it; you’re the negotiator, and tomorrow makes or breaks a trade deal that will be most beneficial for Zaun’s income.

You rustle in your bed sheets again, and Sevika immediately groans. “Can you stop? And turn the lamp off.”

You look at her and you’re about to apologize, but you hold your tongue when you remember who you’re talking to. “I can’t sleep.”

“Turn the lamp off and fucking figure it out.” She snaps, turning her back towards you.

“Can’t you hear?” You squirm around, making as much noise as possible to get your point across. “I’m trying.”

“Find a different way. Count poros. Turn the lamp off.”

You scoff, eyes back on the ceiling, “I’m not five; counting poros doesn’t work, and I’m not turning off the lamp.”

You can hear Sevika shifting in her bed. “I knew you should’ve stayed back,” she sighs, “and you’re scared of the dark? Grow up.”

“Wow, fuck you. If you had asked nicely, I would’ve turned it off, and what do you mean I ‘should’ve stayed’? You’re not my boss. I’m more valuable than you are.” You angrily rant.

“Alright, you are talking way too much right now. Cut it out.”

“…No.” You reply. It sounds unconvincing with your lack of words, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Do you need calming tea or something? What will get you to shut up, because I’m about to hold a pillow over your head and call it a night.” She growls.

“Nothing. I can only sleep if I get a concussion or if I drink my pants off.”

She says your name like a warning, “If you ruin this deal, I’ll make sure to see you off myself.”

You bite back, “Sevika, if I could sleep, I would be sleeping. I don’t want to ruin it either, but your scolding isn’t helping.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Sevika grunts stubbornly. It’s followed by sheets moving and a dull stomp on the floor. You turn to look, and you see Sevika sitting at the side of her bed.

You glance at her muscular thighs in those gray shorts—you couldn’t help it—before staring back at the ceiling. “Are you going to make me tea?”

She pushes off the bed with her one arm. “No.”

“Switching rooms then?” You ask as your eyes follow her shadow’s movement on the walls.

“No.”

“Then... What is it?“ You turn, flinching a bit when you find Sevika peering down at you.

She looks hesitant, timid; the first time you’ve ever seen it. “I’ll help you.”

Your defenses go off, and you quickly sit up. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me, right?”

“Over sleep? Are you stupid?” She pushes you back down, and not with much force, obviously.

You lay there, defeated. “So?”

“I said, ‘I’ll help you.'” She restates.

You stare up at her with slight annoyance, “Well, you have to tell me how?”

She has an indecisive frown before exhaling, “If you come, you’ll shut up.”

Your head shakes in confusion. “Come? Where are we going?”

“You’re an actual idiot.” She groans.

You gasp in offense. “You’re the one being fucking cryptic—“

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“What?”

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“I heard you; I’m just,” you laugh nervously, “are you serious?” Your ears must be playing tricks on you.

“We’re not close enough to joke around with each other.” She says plainly.

Baffled, you reply, “We’re not close enough to fuck either?”

“Do you really care about shit like that? Sex is sex.”

You think about it for a second. You’ve never been in a proper relationship, and you’ve only had a handful of hookups, but you’ve never slept with someone you dislike, and you definitely don’t like Sevika. Even if she is hot. “Well, I guess not—“

“—Then what’s the issue?” Her eyes bore into you.

You gulp at the sudden weight of her stare, but you don’t crumble. “The issue is that I don’t like you. At all.”

Sevika scoffs, “I’ve seen the way you stare at me. You’re not subtle. At all. I saw you do it a few minutes ago.”

How embarrassing. It’s true, between all your hate are moments of admiration. Sevika is “cool,” she’s respected, she’s feared. She’s also full of herself, naggy, and blunt. Both things can be true. But on top of that, she’s hot to the point it’s frustrating.

One time, while she was sitting in her designated booth at The Last Drop playing poker, she locked eyes with you after a big win. There was that sexy, satisfied grin she always gets after every win, and she had the audacity to lock eyes with you.

Your thighs pressed together. You beat yourself up over it for the rest of the night and the following day; you couldn’t even look her in the eye without getting unreasonably angry.

Your face is turning warm, but there’s no point in turning away—you have to fake it until you make it. “Okay? What’s your point?” You ask, even though her point was very clear. You’re running yourself into walls.

Sevika already deciphered that; her face reads, ‘Where the fuck are you right now?’ “Listen, I don’t like you either, but if you want to sleep, I’ll help you, and if you don’t, I’ll get another room.” She explains.

You can tell it’s her final offer. You chew your bottom lip until you remember Sevika is still looking at you. Hiding your face behind your hand, you can’t believe you’re considering it. Sex with Sevika. Sounds mad when you repeat it in your head. It’s just sex, though, right? You knew she loved Zaun, but you didn’t know she loved it this much. Sleeping with you, practically her arch nemesis, for the betterment of society. That sounds insane. This is insane.

Sevika kisses her teeth, “Forget it—“

“—Okay,” you interrupt, “help me.” You’re unable to look her in the eyes.

She looks at you dubiously, and her lack of doing anything unnerves you, so you continue. “Please?” You slowly look up at her, and you swear her eyes darkened.

“Please?” She mimics. “Didn’t take you for the submissive type.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, although it comes out like a whisper.

“Mhm,” she hums apathetically, pulling up the covers draped over you. Her knee makes a dip in the bed. “Make some space,” she asks. You sit up, and you have no idea what to do. Looking left and right, you'd think you were trying to cross the road. She stares blankly. “Just spread your legs.” She commands.

You immediately do as she says, and she chuckles to herself at how you continue to prove her right. You’re clearly not a fan of that, your frown prominent. “What’s funny?”

Sevika kneels herself between your legs, using her arm to help balance her in place. “Man, you love to argue.”

You shrug. “I’ll stop when you fuck me to sleep. If you can... Don’t you think you’re a little overconfident?”

Sevika slowly blinks at you, unsure of whether she should be turned on or irritated. You take it as the latter, and now it’s your turn to chuckle to yourself. But your self-satisfied giggling stops when she leans over you, inches away from your face, “You’re about to find out.”

You never took the time to process Sevika kneeling between your legs, and now you can feel each exhale from her on your face. Your body starts to process it too: your breathing gets heavier and your heartbeat gets faster. You don’t have a crush on her or anything, but this is an unusual, unsurprisingly hot experience. Your eyes flicker to her full, uneven lips before they squeeze shut.

Sevika flicks your forehead. “Wh—ow?!” You whine, rubbing your head with your hand to soothe it.

“I’m not kissing you.” She clarifies.

Your face warms with embarrassment, fingers gripping at the fabric beneath you. “How was I supposed to know you wanted a staring contest?” You grumble.

Sevika rolls her eyes, barely shaking her head in disappointment. Her face moves on from yours, and her lips attack the exposed curvature of your neck, licking, biting, and rendering you speechless. She gives you no time to regulate your emotions, and you let out a soft groan you would’ve otherwise swallowed down. Just what she wanted: less talking, more moaning.

Letting her guide the tilt of your head, you awkwardly rest your hands on her shoulders. You’re unsure of whether you can or should touch her. She pauses. “Sor— I… uh…” You stammer and put your hands up. You decide to just stop speaking to save yourself.

“Relax.” She tells you, gazing at you through her loose, dark hair. It stirs something below you.

You place your hands back on her shoulders, albeit reluctantly, and try to maintain eye contact so you look composed.

Sevika doesn’t buy it. She glances at your hands, very tellingly. “…Relax.” She repeats, softer than she did before, and your heart skips a beat like you’re in a cliché.

Hesitantly, you slide your arms around her shoulders, linking your hands together. It feels intimate, too intimate, and looking at her is getting harder by the second. Sevika chuckles in a way that borders on a scoff. “You wanted to do that; don’t be shy about it.”

You huff, “I didn’t know I was being teased to sleep…”

“Is it working? It’d save me time.”

“Fuck off...”

“You’d hate that.” She replies, as if it’s undeniable. It is, but she’s way too cocky about it. You look like you’re about to curse her out, but you’re holding it back.

Sevika grins smugly, and for a moment, she considers kissing you. Your arms are wrapped around her shoulders, your eyes are yelling, ‘Fuck me already,’ lips practically begging to meet hers.

This is intimate, too intimate. It’s fucking with her logical reasoning—not that this is logical to begin with. It sounds stupid, but it’s worked for her so far; she casually fucks on the regular, and she doesn’t kiss them ever. Never really felt like it. Yet, here you are, making her feel new things. She knows there’s no going back if she makes an exception with you, and quite frankly, you still piss her off. It’s conflicting.

You impatiently perk a brow at her. You had to stop yourself from flat-out asking her to continue; your ego can’t afford you coming off as begging.

For a millisecond she looks like she got caught, then a millisecond later, she’s on you again.

She attentively kisses the skin below the curve of your jawline, her tongue making frequent warm appearances. It’s much more fervent, but rough in a way that makes you tremble. She always makes sure you feel her teeth gliding over when she moves to the next spot. Your legs move on their own, one leg curling up against her side. You’re already pooling where you’re seated, but now it’s getting uncomfortable to sit this damp.

Experienced is how you can describe her right now. You heard rumors of her activity, but you never believed it. There was no way her ol’ grumpy ass was getting laid, no matter how incredibly sexy she was. Then again, you never got along, which makes this situation, this fucking feeling, even crazier.

She was being extra careful not to bruise you at first, but she seems not to care anymore, only driven further when she hears your little gasps or feels your arms tightening around her. She’s getting carried away, but she’ll figure out how to play it off some other time.

Sevika pulls back. She throbs at your dazed and confused expression. “Come closer.” She ushers as she transitions to sitting rather than kneeling on the bed.

With no hesitation, you don’t let go of Sevika as you push yourself forward on your hips, sitting your ass comfortably on the edge of Sevika’s lap. Her hand lands on your waist. She says, “Lay down for me.”

You nod shyly, removing your arms from Sevika’s shoulders and descending onto the mattress. Sevika tries to ignore how the loss of your arms around her made her feel. Her hand travels to the waistband of your joggers. “You’re going to have to move these for me too.” She asks, shrugging her shoulder that’s missing an arm as a reminder.

She doesn’t move; she waits. Your insides do a flip. She’s waiting for you to remove them how you are now: legs diverged around her, hips pointed towards her. You think about how vulnerable you’ll look and feel when you slide them off, showing her the sopping mess she unknowingly made between your legs. You know she’s going to see it eventually, but from you doing the honors? That’s tearing you apart. She notices a shift in your demeanor, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hurry up.”

“Can’t you move back…?”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

You whine in embarrassment, briefly shielding your face in your hands before hastily pulling at your waistband. You wish you had turned the lamp off.

Sevika’s hand clasps over yours. “Slowly.” She scolds. Scolds. You’re fucking flabbergasted. She’s doing this on purpose, you can tell. She’s barely holding back another signature, smug smile.

“You’re such a dick.” You curse. A direct juxtaposition in your actions that don’t defy Sevika at all. Hell, it juxtaposes your body because of how you’re aching for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Off.” She pulls at the band of your pants, letting it slap down when she releases it.

You mutter out a few more curses that she fully grins at before you silently begin to remove your joggers and underwear simultaneously. You lift your hips for mobility, and Sevika’s eyes are glued to the fabric making its way down your thighs, and you’re forced to watch how intently she’s watching you. You can try to insist this is humiliating and cruel, but you can’t stop throbbing just from this; her eyes anticipating your reveal, like you’re a self-opening present.

The clothing starts to bunch at the middle of your thighs, and your arousal is halfway there to being exposed to Sevika. The scent is what hits her first; it makes her want to yank your pants down and give you what you want, but watching you do it so much better.

Once it reaches above your knees, she partially moves out of the way so she can help you remove them properly. While she tosses it elsewhere, you debate pinning your legs shut.

Sevika looks back at you—your legs, actually—and you do flinch them closed. She tsks. “Don’t be stubborn. Not now.” She didn’t sound like she was insulting you, even though a small part of you wanted to be offended.

You let out a shaky sigh and avoid her gaze, slowly parting your legs. Thighs slicked with arousal, folds glistened with the same, you’re undeniably soaked. You prepare yourself to look at Sevika’s shit-eating grin, but when you do, it’s nothing of the sort. Her eyes are low, shaded, and memorializing, and her bottom lip fully disappeared between her teeth.

Then she grins; she even laughs, just as you expected. You groan, not at her, but at how wet you got from it. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” She teases, her eyes still locked on the ego-stroking mess she made of you.

“Such a di—“ You cut yourself off to moan sharply.

Sevika’s thumb came in contact with your swollen clit, the rough pad of her thumb making perfect circles; the rest of her fingers positioned in the patch of hair crowning above it.

“How fast do you think you’ll come? I’m thinking,” she pretends to, only to press her thumb over your clit. Filthy words flutter from your lips, and you instinctively grind into her touch. “Three minutes?”

You look pissed between your bouts of pleasure; it molds together attractively. Sevika can’t wait to make it break, make you cry, and fuck the attitude out of you. “What? You should see how wet you are; you’d think I already fucked you.”

She feels the way you twitch at her words, and it makes the pressure between her legs unbearable. She should just strip and grind her cunt into you, but she knows she won’t be able to stop there. Fuck her stupid life; she’s losing the plot.

Her thick forefinger collects your slick as she paths towards your entrance. You twitch as she slides it in, making you gasp. She chuckles as your walls clench around her finger, and she starts pushing it in and out, painstakingly slow.

It’s not enough, yet you can’t bring yourself to beg her for more. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but Sevika was right; you are stubborn. She reads you like a book, and she can read you now. She angles her finger in a way that brushes against your g-spot, but at the same mind-numbingly slow pace.

Your body doesn’t know what to do; you can’t find friction anywhere; you can squeeze against her finger, but it doesn’t change her speed; all you can do is writhe in place. “You look like you need something,” she says, almost like it’s a thought in her head, so condescending, so fucking hot. Your pussy tenses around her finger for the millionth time, and you almost, almost, cry. “You’re gonna cut my finger off at this rate.” You tense again. She chuckles.

“Sev—Sevika,” you bite your lip to hold down a sharp inhale, but it fails miserably. “Sevika, you’re not helping.”

“Should I stop?” She asks with the tilt of her head. Her finger does stop regardless of the answer.

Your hands reach out for her wrist, weakly clawing at it. “No! No, pl...” You mildly cringe at yourself, turning away.

Sevika’s brows lifted. “What was that? Pl...?” She begins her pace again, and you realize you didn’t appreciate it enough before. “You said it once already; come on.”

Your lips tremble, “Plea—se—?” She barely lets you finish the word before slipping another finger into your drooling cunt. Her pace increases, and you let go of her wrist as you succumb to pleasure.

Your arousal coating her fingers makes the most obscene noises; she wonders if the entire motel can hear it. You try to suppress your moans with your hand, but you can never do it right, not with the way she’s fucking you. Sevika’s glad you can’t; having one arm would’ve been even more inconvenient otherwise. She needs to hear you sob out her name at least once. “Please what?” She leans over you as she slams her fingers into you, pressing them against your wet, ridged, gummy walls.

“You’re— fuck, you’re pushing it,” you groan, and just like that, she slows down. But you’re weak, and you crumble. “Wait, wait, wait—please. Please, fuck me... Fuck me to sleep.” You ramble loosely, back to scratching at her wrists again. There’s that smile you were thinking about earlier, the one she gets after a big win. She broke you, and she lost the plot ages ago.

—

It’s been an hour, and you’re already on the brink of your third orgasm. Sevika folded and ended up, verbatim, stripping and grinding her cunt into yours. You should be asleep right now, but Sevika said you have enough time to catch up on it before the meeting. You hope that’s true, but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of her or her abs flexing with every desperate hump.

So intent on getting her rocks off, practically using you for her own pleasure at this point—you already came twice now; any more is a bonus, just like the one building up right now. Your eyes are pressed shut, trying to envision your release so it comes quicker. “Just like that. Keep fucking me, please, Sev.” You beg through your teeth and quiet sniffles. Sevika’s fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh.

She murmurs, “You,” her movements get sloppier; you can tell she’s close, “feel so fucking good.” Now you’re close—no, you come at her praise.

You’re shaking, grabbing at the sheets that have since slid off the mattress. You forgot how to breathe; all you can feel is your orgasm coursing through you. Your mind is turning fuzzy, and even fuzzier with Sevika still grinding into you. Your moans are pitchy and pornographic; you’re making sounds you didn’t even think happened in real life. “Sevika...” You sob out from overstimulation, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

She loves it. “Shit…” Sevika moans, followed by several more curses as she shudders out her orgasm. Her vision goes blurry for a second from how hard she came. She tries to control her labored breathing as she comes to, breathlessly calling your name.

When she focuses in on you, you’re passed out, fucked out, and peaceful. Sevika’s pupils dilate at the markings she left on your neck, then to your lips, which she’s yet to have the chance to kiss. She lets the sleep weighing on her win and carefully collapses beside you.

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane #sevika x y/n #sevika x female reader #sevika smut

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arminsumi · 6 months ago

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Ahhh, student!Satoru, who's leaning into the palm of his hand, mouth concealed behind his pale hand, eyes stuck on you. And they've been stuck on you ever since he saw you first walk up the steps into Jujutsu Tech. Bright blue. Heart quivering. Fixed gaze.

He takes any excuse to be near you, even though he knows that you're annoyed by him — he's so cocky and full of himself. But don't you see that he's also just a lovesick boy? Look at the way he follows after you down the halls, long striding legs effortlessly meeting your quick pace.

You're just trying to get a cold soda from the vending machine after a long two hours of practicing martial arts with Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. And since Shoko promptly left with Suguru for a cigarette break, that left an overjoyed Satoru alone with you.

"Which flavor do you usually get?" he asks, grasping at any conversation starter he can think of. He just wants to talk to you, even if it's about something so dumb... even if it's while stood next to a vending machine.

"Uh, strawberry... it's my favorite."

He takes a mental note of that.

He's always trying to get your attention, even if he has to become a fool in order to earn a glance from you. Walking away, looking dumb, even his best friend shakes his head at him and tells him that he's way too downbad for a girl that doesn't even like him back.

But Satoru doesn't listen to anyone when they say that you don't like him back. He knows the chemistry is there, as awkward as it may be sometimes. He knows there's something connecting him and you, like an invisible thread.

He still brings you gifts on V-day. He still pesters you in class. He still shares one earbud with you on train rides. He still gets that accelerated heart beat when you so much as graze your hand over his while walking side-by-side.

So eagerly looking at your lips, Satoru pulls out lip balm and makes eye contact with you while applying it. He's always got chapped lips, he knows because someone made exactly 1 comment about it and now he's never forgotten to put a lip balm in his pocket.

"Whatchya starin' at my lips for? You wanna have a taste of strawberry?" he winks, puckering his kissable lips at you.

"Ough..." you cringe at him, "Satoru, it's no wonder you're single."

Okay, he has zero flirting skills. But he earns a smile out of you right then, so even if he's cringe, he's surely doing something right. Are the cogs turning in your head? Do you think he's cute? Do you want to kiss him should he lean into a kiss oh he's leaning into a kiss now aaand he nearly falls flat on his face, because you didn't notice that he was leaning in for a kiss and now he just has to play it off and look like a dumbass once again.

His feelings grow exponentially as the years pass.

You're always catching him staring and he doesn't even feel ashamed.

Though it's been on his mind all the time, it's not until after three years of knowing you that Satoru kisses you.

It happens one day during heavy rainfall. He runs to you with a grin, no umbrella, totally soaked, and like a bright-eyed bunny he bounces at your side.

He's unzipping his uniform jacket, hanging it over the two of you. The proximity has his heart thumping. Before he knows it, he's leaning down to kiss you, right there as the two of you are concealed from the world in your own little bubble — in reality, everyone knows that you two are liplocking under Satoru's jacket. Duh. His shoes click on the ground as he repositions himself, bending his knees and arching down to meet your lips, 'till his spine gets angry at him for falling for a short girl.

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venomvalley · 5 months ago

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FEED ME!

PART I: NOODLE SOUP ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 5.4k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika rescues a pregnant stray from the streets of the Undercity as her good deed for the decade, but plans go awry when she starts to enjoy the companionship, and her entire lone-wolf worldview comes crashing down. The kicker? Her stray is very much human, and the circumstances of your condition create a whole new set of challenges—challenges best solved with good, old-fashioned murder.

TAGS: 18+! pregnancy fic, mentions of past rape, protective!sevika (she's still a bitch though i love her)

NOTES: i have no idea if people will even like this but i had fun writing it so theres that. never been interested in pregnancy fics, but i just needed protective sevika in my life idk. btw the actual rape is only briefly mentioned in passing. no descriptions whatsoever

-> READ ON AO3 | FEED ME! MASTERLIST

Sevika is having a shit day.

Well. Shittier than usual.

The sole of her boot broke off this morning, Silco's contact never showed up at the docks, and her favorite food place was closed by the time she passed through the Lanes. And to make matters worse, it started raining. Not only is she tired and hungry, but now she's soaked through to the bone.

So when she cuts through an alley to shave off a few minutes of travel on the way home, she really isn't in the mood for the voice that calls out to her. Beggars are a cog a-fucking-dozen in the Lanes, and she ignores them on instinct. There are worse things in the shadows that know her name, after all.

But for some reason, she decides to take the bait tonight. Turns back to look at the ground then stills at the sight of you, bathed in the neon lights of the city’s beating heart. There's no hiding the roundness of your stomach beneath your shirt, or the gauntness of your cheeks. Clothes dirty, hair unwashed, as if you were thrown out on the street like an unwanted stray.

The state of you makes her sick to her stomach. Angry at the world. For a brief moment, she remembers what—who—she fights for: the little people like you that often fade into the background. The chaos of the chem-barons and the Enforcers sniffing around tend to take center stage.

“I'm sorry for bothering you, but do you have any food?” Your voice comes out weak and raspy, desperation splitting each syllable at the seams. “I don't want money, I just—I'm starving and nobody will help me.”

Sevika nods toward the swell of your belly, so round it looks painful. “Where's the dad?”

You inhale a shaky breath, face twisting up in a pained grimace before hardening back to neutral stone. “I don't know. Don't even know who he is, actually, but I—I didn't ask for this. I swear, I'm responsible. I would never—fuck, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry.”

She wonders how many times you've plead your case to passersby in an attempt to convince them to save you. How many actually believed your story.

But there’s no faking that grieving look in your eye, and the implication of how you ended up here changes things.

There are very few situations in this world that affect Sevika, but injustice pains her most. She’s seen the worst of this city a million times over, has contributed to the chaos in ways she isn't proud of, but she still holds a place in her heart for the people who got the shit end of the stick. People like you, and the kids starving in the streets, and everybody else cursed enough to be born in the hell she calls home.

“Get up,” she says, a bit more gruff than she means to, and your eyes widen in fear. You curl in on yourself as tightly as you can, arms folded over your belly. “You want food or not?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets it. A disaster waiting to happen, appeasing a walking liability. There’s a reason why she doesn't bother with attachments or relationships outside of work and gambling.

But then you struggle to your feet, fighting gravity as you clutch at the brick wall for leverage, and she holds out a hand to steady you.

Her first mistake.

You grasp her fingers and gaze at her with eyes that gleam, like an outstretched hand is your first ever taste of tenderness.

(It probably is. Nothing surprises her anymore.)

As she leads you through the crowded streets, you turn into a skittish thing, eyes darting over the crowd, clinging a bit too hard to her wrist. When you step on the back of her boot, it only takes one venomous glare for you to keep your distance until you reach your destination: a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop. Big portions for cheap, in exchange for shit service and mediocre food. The only place open besides bars this late, and she wouldn't dare drag you into one of those.

She corrals you over to an empty table and pulls out the seat against the back wall for you to take. You glance around a moment, flinching at the slam of the front door, before easing yourself down into the chair, a hand protective over your stomach.

She wonders why. Why you’d care so much about something borne from an awful situation. It doesn’t make any sense.

The waitress strolls up to the table with two paper menus, eyes landing on her with a sultry smile. “Well, well, well. Sevika. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” The waitress—Zaya, maybe? her face seems familiar—looks you up and down with a curl of her upper lip. “Seems you caught yourself a stray.”

You bow your head at the comment, soothing over the mess of your hair in an attempt to make yourself more presentable. Sevika shouldn’t care as much as she does, but you’re just… pitiful. Pathetic, if she wants a more apt, less kind term to use.

“Something like that.” Beneath the table, her metal hand tightens into a fist, irritation burning hot inside her chest. Not in the mood for bullshitting. “I want my usual.” She glances over at you. “Double order.”

The waitress stands around for a long moment in an effort to strike up conversation, but Sevika pays her no mind, fully interested in the scratch marks on the table. Eventually, she leaves with a frustrated huff.

A long silence passes between the two of you. She isn't about to engage in small talk, and you look ready to burst into tears. Fine by her. Conversation was never her strong suit anyway.

You look up at her, then away, then back, a focused furrow to your brow. She opens her mouth to snap at you—*say what you want to say—*but you speak first.

“I know you. Well, of you,” you say, voice so quiet she almost can’t hear you over the white noise of the restaurant. “You’re popular.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You heave a tired sigh, palm drawing rhythmic circles over your belly. “I don’t have any way to repay you.”

“No shit. That's the whole point.”

“I’ve heard this place is expensive.”

Sevika snorts. “This is the cheapest food in the Lanes.” Her eyes dart down to your stomach, visible just over the lip of the table. “One bowl can feed two people.”

You fall silent, avoiding her gaze to instead stare a hole through the wall near her head. “Thank you.”

A different waitress drops off the food (good fucking riddance, Zara), and you immediately tuck into your bowl, inhaling the noodles like you haven't eaten in weeks, dripping sauce all over your area of the table.

After you almost choke on a too-large bite, Sevika rips the bowl away from you with a growl of irritation. “Slow down. You're making a mess.”

You blink at her in surprise, eyes wide and misty, and grab a nearby napkin to clean your face then mop up your splattering of sauce. “Sorry. I’m just hungry.”

“You still have manners, don't you?” Despite the bite of her words, she takes pains to slide the bowl slowly across the table.

Sevika doesn’t know how to be soft. Never really had the patience, the capacity for it. She doesn't surround herself with people like you who require a tender hand. The kind of people who fear their own shadow.

She should get up, pay the tab, and leave. She did her good deed for the decade. She doesn't owe you anything.

But she can't will her legs to move. Thinks, instead, of you waddling back to that alleyway, of the pouring rain, of someone a lot more cruel than her stumbling upon your defenseless form in the middle of the night.

This is exactly what her old man used to warn her about: the inconvenience of companionship. One big distraction designed to veer her away from the end goal.

And yet—

you sit back in your chair with a content smile, shoulders relaxing from their spot beside your ears, and you look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky

—she doesn't move.

“Feel better?” she asks, elbow balanced atop the table as she adjusts her weight in her seat. She doesn't fidget, but the reverent look you aim her way gets her the closest she's ever been in her life.

Nothing good ever follows me. Get out while you still can.

You nod. “Yeah, but I think I ate too much.”

She glances down at your bowl. You licked it clean.

A wave of pride swells within her at the sight of you: eyelids already drooping, hands curling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. If you could, you'd no doubt be purring.

Cute.

Her face twists into a scowl, silently shooing away the thought as she rises to her feet, and you stumble in an effort to follow her.

“Are you—” you pause, hands clasping tight over your chest. “Do you know anywhere I can stay? At least to get out of the rain tonight?”

Sevika’s eyes narrow, gaze inspecting the features of your face for any hint of… she doesn't know, really. Manipulation, dishonesty maybe. But all that stares back at her is a woman with one big baby-sized responsibility and no means to care for it. You're scared shitless. There's no faking that.

Damn. Looks like she's got herself a stray for the night.

“Come on,” she grumbles, curling a hand around your upper arm.

She pays at the counter, your presence hovering just behind her elbow, and ignores the goodbyes from staff as she leads you out the front door.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a bit breathless from the speed of your walk in an attempt to catch up to her.

Fuck, she just wants to go home.

“My place. Just for tonight.”

You nod your head, reaching again for the comfort of her wrist, and she lets you. Too exhausted to argue.

The walk to her apartment takes longer than usual, your stride stilted from the bulk of your belly, fatigue weakening your legs.

Sevika's never really thought much about where she lives in regards to safety, but the shadows swallow the darkness tonight with you in tow. The locals know not to fuck with her, but they don't know you, and they leer in a way that makes her hackles raise.

She tugs you closer when a burly man steps off the stoop of his house, calling out to her.

“Whatcha got there, big girl?”

“Your head in a box if you don't fuck off.” A matter-of-fact statement. A promise.

He laughs, high-pitched and nervous, arms raised in placation. “Alright, alright, I hear ya. Not in the mood for jokes.”

She stops in her tracks and squares her shoulders, ignoring your quiet oof as you collide with her back. Because no, she's really not in the mood for jokes.

The man fidgets in place a moment as if weighing his options, before he backs away to the front door of his home. “Alright. I'll be seeing you.”

When the front door closes, she releases her hold on your arm and begins walking again.

“Who was that?” you whisper, fingers trembling as they reattach to her wrist.

“Nobody. Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, you're first inside her apartment, shivering from the chill of the rain. You look around the barebones living room—a broken-down couch, a scuffed chair in the corner, various tools scattered over the coffee table. Very little in regards to decoration.

Sevika doesn't like coming home. The emptiness tends to swallow her whole. Nothing waiting for her but an empty bed and the sprawl of silence.

“You need a shower,” she says, discarding her cloak over the back of the couch.

“I don't have any clothes.”

“I know.”

She just wants to sleep. Would rather not be dealing with this when a busy day looms ahead, but she couldn't just leave you there. A decision that goes against every cell in her body, every lesson she learned in her youth, but she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

She fetches you a worn shirt and a pair of boxer briefs then shows you to the bathroom, and you whisper your thanks as she tosses a spare towel on the sink.

You stay in there a while, and she passes the time by tinkering with her prosthetic.

Finally, the door swings open and you walk out, dirty clothes bundled under your arm.

“I finally feel like a person again.” You tug down the hem of her your shirt, fabric stretched over your belly. “Thank you.”

She grunts in response, and you take a seat across from her at the kitchen table, head tilting as you watch her work. You don't say anything. Just follow the movement of her hands.

The next time she looks up, your cheek rests on your folded arms atop the table, eyes closed, shoulders rising with each breath you inhale.

Asleep. Poor, helpless thing.

She considers leaving you there, doesn't want to bother with setting you up on the couch, but her legs are already moving before she makes a decision either way.

Carrying you is difficult given the bulk of your stomach. She holds you like a thing made to be broken, soft and careful, the cold metal of her prosthetic cradling your neck, her other arm beneath the bend of your knees. Walks slow to keep from waking you, enraptured by the rapid-fire expressions that flicker over your face. Anger, pain, sadness, anger, fear, fear, fear—

Must be a horrible dream.

She lays you down on the couch then covers you with a threadbare blanket found in the back of her closet. Takes a seat on the coffee table and thinks about what the fuck she’s going to do with you.

You can’t stay here, but she can’t let you live on the street either. So there’s the issue of finding someone to house you, but she can count the people she trusts on one hand (with five fingers left over). The shelters are already full-up, and under zero circumstances will she go to Silco for help.

She finds herself in a mess of her own fucking creation.

You roll onto your side with a dreamy groan, hand ghosting over your belly in your sleep. She wonders if you even want the kid. If you spend your days grieving a life you’ll never get to have because there's no other option.

Sevika doesn’t remember much of her own mom. Died when she was young giving birth to a little brother that failed to survive through the night—a waste in her eyes. That was her first brush with grief, the foundation of beliefs that her old man raised her with: the harsh life of the Undercity holds no room for love, or compassion, or attachment.

If the Enforcers had called for a doctor like they were supposed to, her mom might still be alive. But she doesn’t like to dwell on the past, on what-ifs. No damn point in it.

She pulls out a cigarette in hopes that the smoke will drown out the memories. Looks over at your sleeping form. Looks down at the cigarette. Heaves a frustrated sigh then puts it back in its metal case.

You're an inconvenient little thing. A stray with too many stipulations. No more than a headache.

(If she adjusts the blanket to cover up your cold, bare feet on her way out the front door, nobody has to know.)

The next morning, you’re half-asleep on the couch when she approaches you, arms stretched overhead, mouth opened wide in a yawn.

“Listen up.” She takes a seat on the coffee table, resting both elbows on her knees. “I’ll be gone for a few days, so if you’re staying here, we need to go over some ground rules.”

You snap to attention, face bright as the sun, scrambling to sit up. “Staying here? Really?”

“If you follow the rules.”

“Yeah! Yes, I—“ your brows tilt upwards, tone turning desperate, “whatever you want, I’ll do it. I swear.”

A part of her—the space reserved for optimism collecting cobwebs—almost believes you.

She holds up a finger. “Don't touch anything that isn't yours.” Another. “Don't go out at night, and when you do go out, don’t talk to anybody.” Another. “Don't answer the damn door, not even for me.” You nod along, enraptured gaze glued to hers. “You got all that?”

“Yes, ma'am.” At her raised brow, you stammer, “I—uh, sorry, I just… don't know what you want me to call you.”

“… My name.”

“Sevika.” She nods. “Okay. Then, thank you, Sevika. I mean it. You saved my life.”

With a roll of her eyes, she rises to her feet. “Yeah, I'm a real hero.”

“You are, though.”

She doesn't like this. The way you look at her all awestruck and worshipping. Doesn’t deserve it when there are people out there who would treat you much better than her—people who would actually care about you and the kid in the long run. If you're dead-set on keeping it, then it deserves the chance to grow up right. Loved.

Eight hours ago, she strongly considered leaving you in the street, starving and pregnant. So no, she’s not a hero. And she’s fine with that. Her path in life is a different, less savory one.

“There’s money in the kitchen for food,” she says. “Use my bed if you want.”

And then she leaves.

Truth be told, Sevika doesn't expect to see you when she gets home from a week-long binge of violence and booze, bruised all to hell, a headache splitting her skull down the middle. The edges of her temper sanded down to something less volatile.

Once she walked out the front door that morning, she stopped thinking about you. Brushed you off as a fluke, a mistake of lowered inhibitions.

(She thought about you a lot. Wondered if you were staying smart, being careful. If you actually used the money she left behind. If you were even alive. But she would rather die than admit the worry—no, no, Sevika doesn't worry—that fleetingly consumed her.)

You stand in the kitchen, bent over at the waist with an elbow propped on the counter, rubbing circles into your lower back. Bare from the waist down, the hem of your shirt does little to cover the swell of your ass—the little slice of heaven between your thighs, bathed in shadow from the poor lighting in her apartment.

Her fingers itch for a cigarette. She’s finally gone insane.

The room smells like a filling meal, everything left in its original place. Nothing unusual aside from the weight of your presence, and something warm settles in her stomach, heavy as a rock, so unfamiliar it makes her nauseous.

She chooses to ignore it.

“Get into trouble while I was gone?”

You jolt at the sound of her voice, righting yourself with a gasp when you spot her standing at the back of the couch. “Sevika, you're back!” Why do you almost sound relieved? Why do you smile at her? “And no, I…” you nod to the stove where a metal pot sits on the front burner, “I tried to make some soup, but I don't know how good it'll be.”

She walks over to you, boots heavy on the floor, and lifts the lid. Side-steps the wafting steam. “Smells good at least.”

“My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up. It has rice and fish, so it's filling.”

The simple suggestion of a home-cooked meal makes her mouth water, especially made by someone that isn’t her, and she’s eaten much worse in her lifetime. Could never afford to be picky.

Exhaling a long breath, you reach down to once again rub at the small of your back, shifting on your feet. The only sign of discomfort aside from the pinch in your brow.

She huffs, nudging you out of the way. “Sit down. I'll finish up.”

“You don't have to—”

“Kid's giving you trouble. I got it.”

You blink up at her, a relieved smile stretching your mouth, eyes curving into crescents. It's… cute. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, she soon learns that the soup is more of a porridge, thickened up by the starch in the rice, the fish rubbery from cooking too long.

Well. At least you tried.

She fetches two bowls from the cabinet and notices a stack of dishes that weren’t there when she left. The sink is also empty, as clean as you could manage given all the rust.

Maybe there are some perks to keeping you around.

She calls you over to the kitchen table, and you take the seat across from her with a tired groan. Thank her when she sits a steaming bowl and spoon in front of you.

Sevika always eats alone when she’s home. It’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Rarely ever a choice on her part because she never got the hang of making friends (too unapproachable, people used to say), so your presence is odd, settles wrong inside her gut.

“You’re hurt,” you say around a mouthful of food, and she looks up from her meal to find you squinting at her, head tilted.

“I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

You pout over the metal of your spoon, brows twitching, but say nothing in response.

However, something nags at her.

“So. Do I wanna know why you're not wearing underwear?”

Your mouth flattens into a thin line, embarrassment scrunching up your nose. “Sorry. It just… it's a pregnancy thing, I guess? I get sensitive sometimes. If you know what I mean.”

Her imagination does a good job of filling in the blanks. Thoughts that she never wanted to have about you.

“And that's a bad thing.” More statement than question, her own assumption given your discomfort.

“Good until it turns bad. Really convenient for, uh, certain activities.” You shift your gaze to your bowl of soup, a wide grin rounding out your cheeks.

“Not in my bed, I hope.”

She really, really hopes you didn't fuck yourself in her bed. Doesn't feel like washing the damn sheets.

“I couldn't if I wanted to. Haven't seen my own feet in over a month.” The tone of your voice implies that you do want to, that you've thought about it recently. “No, the uh… the girls at The Rose took me in for a while. One of ‘em was a mom, too, and I guess she felt bad for me. Hormones being a bitch and all.” You shrug, pointedly ignoring her stare. “I prefer women anyway.”

Sevika only briefly considers the revelation in regards to herself, or the fact that you lived in a whorehouse for a brief stint of time, because a more sinister implication rears its ugly head:

You prefer women. You're pregnant by a man with, in your own words, a baby you didn’t ask for.

She already clocked the circumstances the night she found you, but now she knows for sure. And she's furious.

“I'll fucking kill him.” A promise hissed under her breath.

There's no reason for her to get involved, to stick her nose where it doesn't belong, but she can't sit back and do nothing while that bastard walks free.

Your head snaps up, confusion twisting at your brow. Her eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, and whatever you see in her face makes you frown.

Softly, overcome by grief, you say, “He's not your responsibility.”

“This is my city. I don't want a monster like him living in it.”

Your drop your spoon in your bowl with a sharp clatter, turning away from her. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have said so much.”

Sevika leans forward, elbows folded on the table, half-eaten soup already forgotten. She's lost her appetite anyway.

“So he did hurt you.”

You don't answer for a long while, worrying a hand over the curve of your neck, eyes darting over the pattern of her floor.

Until you nod your head.

She stands up from the table with her bowl then empties its contents into the nearby trashcan. Can't bear the sight of you anymore, sitting so pitifully in her chair, thumb following the curve of your belly.

“I'll take care of it.”

You know by now that there's no point in trying to change her mind.

Her sheets smell like you—the first thing she notices when she finally crawls into bed, shoving her face into the pillow with a frustrated growl. She inhales. Curses herself on the exhale. Inhales again because she's lost her fucking mind.

She ends the dilemma by ripping off her pillowcase and throwing it to a shadowed corner of the room. Still, everything smells like you. Not even in the damn room, and your presence haunts her.

This is getting ridiculous.

Her fingers twitch, craving a cigarette or a blunt or cigar or anything to distract her from the hem of her pants. She won't do that to you—use your smile or your smell or the curve of your ass to get herself off. Not after what she learned just a few hours prior.

But she considers it for longer than she has any right to, and for the first time in forever, guilt curdles sour in her gut.

In order to find out the identity of your rapist (just thinking of the word brings acid to the back of her throat), Sevika comes up with an idea. One of her best.

She plops down on the cushion next to you and takes the book from your hands to get your attention.

You scoff, open your mouth in protest. “What are you—”

“We're going to the Lanes tomorrow.”

At her direct approach, you blink, adjusting the blanket over your lap. “Okay? Why?”

“There's a vendor showcase. I need to buy some things.” A bold-faced lie, and you seem to pick up on it, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She sighs, adds, “I'll buy you something pretty.”

She needs to get you into a crowd because she knows how criminals work. If he sees you, he’ll make himself known one way or another. Wouldn't pass up the opportunity of rubbing what he did in your face.

The hardest part of this little plan will be banking on him actually showing up, but most of the Undercity flocks to the showcase to buy products on discount before the year’s end. The perfect opportunity.

You search her face for… something. An ulterior motive, maybe—one she doesn't have—before sighing. “Okay.”

The next evening, she drags you by the scruff to the bustling hub of the Lanes, streets lined with pop-up markets and food carts, people celebrating and shouting and haggling prices. Your hand remains firm around hers, a neccessity given the thick of the crowd.

Everything is fine at first. She parts the sea of people to allow you through without issue, biting her tongue when you stop at each stall to see what’s on offer. Handmade clothes, street food, jewelry that she only glances at. She forces down her frustration when you take too long sorting through necklaces—if a bit enamored with the way you hold each of them up to your face, thumbing over the chain and the gems and the crystals.

You look up at her with a toothy smile, eyes outshining the fake diamonds in your hand, and her heart stops. Something sickly-sweet weaves through her ribs, squeezes so tight that she almost chokes on it.

Affection.

This isn't good. Her worst fear realized. Every atom in her body screams for her to run far away, to wipe you from her memory, to stay lonely and sad and safe.

Instead, she throws the necklace you chose back into the display and picks up one you looked over previously—the only necklace at the booth with real gems.

“This one is better,” she says, offering it to you for inspection.

“Yeah. This would’ve been my second choice.”

She nods. Pays the vendor despite your very vocal protests then helps you secure the clasp at the nape of your neck. Your skin brushes against her knuckles, soft and warm. A sharp contrast to the callouses that litter her palms and fingers. (And still, you always hold her hand.)

Too intimate. She knows better than this.

Until you spin around and rush her with a tight hug, the swell of your belly pressing against hers, your arms solid around her waist.

She's gonna be sick. Should push you off, lecture you about personal space and boundaries, but she thinks about her mom dying alone on some cold floor in the middle of the night, and she thinks about your smile, and nothing seems to matter much anymore.

She lets you hug her until you're satisfied, and you step away with a quiet, “Thank you, Sevika,” and she almost throws up right there in the street.

And then the night goes to shit.

One moment, you're strolling beside her, babbling about the ingredients of some dish you hate, and the next has you stiffening up, breath heaving in an instant, your fingers winding so tight around her hand that her joints creak.

She looks down at you, finds you wide-eyed, staring at something off in the distance with such abject horror that she puffs up on instinct.

“No no nonono, that's him.” You duck behind her, face fitting between her shoulder blades. “Oh, fuck, we have to go. Please, we gotta go.”

She knows who you're talking about. Who he is. No mistaking your reaction, the way you shake and sob against her back.

A lightning strike of fury consumes her.

“Where?” she hisses, twisting around to look at you. Your mouth opens and closes, fighting to make words, and you duck away from the touch of her hand on your shoulder. “Show me.”

You shake your head so fast your neck threatens to snap, both hands circling tight around her wrist, and you tug at her until you're rocking back on your heels. “Please don't. Please. I just wanna go.”

But fate smiles on her as she looks through the bustling crowd. Only one man acknowledges your existence, tucked behind a food stand on the corner of the street. He thinks he’s subtle about glancing over at you, a predatory glint to his gaze that she wants to gouge out.

As luck would have it, she knows him. Some bottom-of-the-barrel lackey for Smeech that often passes through The Last Drop, so disposable she doesn't even know his name.

Her feet move before she even realizes it, vision tunneling to the pinpoint of his cackling face as he smacks at the man beside him.

“Sevika!”

At the sound of your scream, she stops. Looks over her shoulder to where you search in a panic, shuffling on your feet, the crowd already closing in, jostling you in place.

Fuck. Fuck.

Leaving with you means disobeying the very foundation of who she is, nurtured into a brick wall weapon. She never backs down from a fight, but she can't leave you behind, either. Not like this—inconsolable, barely coherent to the world around you.

She shoves through the throng of people, the scowl on her face swearing murder to anybody who dares to even look at her wrong. She wants blood, wants to cut her teeth on something soft and vital. Craves it so bad that her hands go numb.

Those same hands take you by the arms, ushering you into a nearby alley, away from the chaos of the crowd.

She doesn't comfort people. Has no fucking clue how to calm you down aside from a stilted pat to the back. “Hey. You’re alright.”

You sag against her with a relieved sob, begging her not to leave you again. Begging her to take you home.

Home. Her apartment, rundown and small and shitty, is home to you.

It takes less than a second to make her decision, and she ushers you away from the market.

Fine. The bastard can live another day. She'll ask around the Lanes, catch him by surprise when you're not around to stop her because she knows him, and by the time she's done, there won't even be a body left to burn.

She makes it a promise.

TAG LIST: @thesevi0lentdelights @iamastar @ryoiii @tiyawnyana @muclunga (only doing this the one time cause i hate tag lists hfjkdfhgfjkd)

#arcane x reader #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you #x reader #my fics #fic: feed me!

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pilos-000 · 19 days ago

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haven’t been able to log in to tumblr for a few days and just saw @kyri45 ‘s new update and-

OMG OMG SHE IS SO CUTE AAAAAAAAAA 🥹🥹🥹

When I saw the little menace my lil brain cogs started working and came up with THIS :DD

I SAW HER OLDER SELF AND WANTED TO DRAW IT IMMEDIATELY!!!

Okay, we got a few headcannons to unpack here (we may not see her older self so I went all out in this one and made up a bunch of things that will surely not come true, but a guys gotta do what they gotta do):

Her lil orange hair strand could be dyed or glamoured to represent her baba! I just found the idea so cute and added it

This ones a lil personal but I just LOVE long skirts so a just had to add it to her design, and I can’t say I didn’t like the way it turned out honestly!

I kind of (a lot) took inspo from the baby design bc I am incapable of thinking of an outfit that is original :( BUT it fits well so its all good

I wanted to imitate the gremlin but cutie vibes her first encounter was giving- I would say that turned out to be a success too!

AND OF COURSE I KEPT THE STRAND MK GAVE HER WHO DO YOU TAKE ME FOR >:(

There’s also the scarf that represents macaques :P

I didn’t know what style of weapon she would have, my original idea was to change the weapon the family got going and give her a sword but I didn’t know how suitable it would be, so I scrapped the idea :\

I also wanted to change up the hair style a bit, simply because it wouldn’t make much sense that it would stay the same all the time haha

Let me know what you think!

#lego monkie kid #shadowpeach #lmk #lmk fanart #doodle dump #shadowpeach bio au #shadowpeach bio parents au #SPB: Second Star #its 6am #its quickly done #but hope you all enjoy anyway #I don’t know how to tag #I LOVER HER SM <3

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eureka-its-zico · 3 months ago

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Residuals

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: So, I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to do this, but honestly, I’m such a sl*t for Noah Wyle and older men. I also kept running into there being just hardly any fics in general for this amazing show and so…here I am. Attempting to create my version with an OC that does have a last name (it's for the doctor purposes but also I hate that whole y/n, y/l/n stuff, ok? It just throws my ass off and throws me out of a story) and follows along with the episodes of the show. Idk how this will go or be received but I’m here wrecking myself. Much Love

Shout out to @viridian-dagger for looking this over for me and hyping me up when I feel like my shit is trash. I Love you. Also, thanks to @strangergraphics for the cute little divider.

Word Count: 3259

Next I

7:00 AM

“No, absolutely not. Ask someone else.”

The break room was the perfect place for Gloria’s early morning ambush. You’d barely pushed in the numbers on the keypad, the door swinging open when your gaze homed in on her position leaning against the small kitchenette. The words blurted out from a place deeply seeded in not being ready for her or the administration's early morning bullshit. You hadn’t even got to enjoy your coffee yet.

You’d turned on your heel and raced back out the door in what could’ve been record time. Your hand tried to steady the sloshing of your coffee as you could feel Gloria hot on your heels.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You’re right - I don’t. However, seeing you this early, Gloria is not a good omen for starting my day.”

There was nowhere in the entire trauma center that you could go to get away from her and, knowing Gloria, she wasn’t going to make it easy for you. Realistically, you understood that Gloria was just another cog in the corporate machine. She rode your ass - and every other medical professional in the system from doctors during residency to technicians and CNAs - because it’s what the big bad CEOs demanded. The hospital functioned on efficiency facilitated by money and if too many bad Yelp reviews arrived it systematically hurt numbers. Bad numbers equaled a bad flow of funds.

Gloria no doubt listened to her bosses during an early morning meeting where they rattled off complaint after complaint that dealt with a showcase of data and numbers. Both, of which, the board constantly claimed, showed the true efficiency of the hospital - not the life-saving measures taken to keep people alive. No doubt its main focus rested on the emergency department downstairs, because, once again, Yelp reviews of massive wait times and poor satisfaction scores outweighed the expertise of attending doctors.

You didn’t envy Gloria’s position of being hated for being said cog in the corporate machine. Her job focused on relaying the demands from the top. Gloria was forever the bad guy to staff whenever they noticed her no-nonsense demeanor coming towards them. It was hard to be sympathetic to her plight when she followed you around like a bloodhound. The woman was relentless.

“The board would like to see if applying additional support down in the emergency department would help alleviate time issues that are keeping patient satisfaction at a tremendous low.”

Absolutely not.

You would rather chew your arm off than be sent down there. Your retreat came to a halt as you turned to face her. There weren't too many places inside the hospital you could go, and you were willing to bet Gloria was willing to follow you anywhere until you conceded. Plus, you came to a full stop in front of the elevator, and no matter how much you’d like to magically teleport yourself inside of it, unfortunately, you were mortal and would just have to wait.

Gloria’s hands were interlocked in front of her middle - eyes drilling miniature holes in you that not that long ago used to make you squirm. That was back when you were just starting your internship - eager back then to make a great first impression. Terrified of being reprimanded for making an unpopular decision or speaking your mind.

“Gloria, I’m in family medicine.”

“Last time I checked you started in the emergency department and helped out in intensive care.”

“Yes, great memory, Gloria. If you also recall, I moved to family medicine where I’ve been for the last couple of years.”

The transfer to family medicine was a hard pill to swallow. You’d grown accustomed to the craziness of the ER. The constant adrenaline rush that required you to always bring your A game. Where the anxiety was at an all-time maxed-out high where a simple mistake cost lives but a quick deduction could save them. Once you’d moved upstairs to help out Dr. Nave’s family practice, it’d been a huge adjustment. Eventually, once your body got used to the monotony of the days, you found you were finally able to sleep. To be semi-normal.

There was no denying, however, that you left something important behind in The Pitt. Something you hoped you could leave there inside its sterile rooms and the overwhelming storm of emotions.

“I’m not asking you to go back down there to answer every trauma call. I’m asking you to take your family medicine knowledge downstairs to help assess triage for minor issues -“

“You mean people who come in for chest colds,” you interrupted.

“ - and help the senior doctors clear out these cases so they can focus on more immediate health care concerns.”

Gloria’s words crushed your small outburst and bore down on your shoulders, keeping you from trying to move away. Her hands were now connected at her elbows, which was her silent way of informing you she didn’t appreciate you trying to talk over her. That no would never be an acceptable answer.

You felt the drag of your teeth against your cheek. The temptation to bite down to relieve your growing irritation was overwhelming but futile. No matter what argument you came up with, you knew Gloria was here to make sure what the board requested was done.

Instead of bloodshed, you eased your frustration out inch by inch through your nose. Your eyes scanned over the shitty egg wash walls while you debated all of your available options, which were a big fat none.

“How long?”

Gloria didn’t need clarification on what you were asking. The way she practically preened like a peacock let you know she knew she’d won.

“As long as the board requires it.”

“I’ll do it just for today,” you interjected, ignoring her raised brow. “Today you can see if pulling me from Nave’s floor makes your charts or numbers move or whatever data it is you all look at. If it does nothing, today is my first and last day going down.”

Gloria considered your counterargument. The sharpness in her eyes brightened; the terms of this new agreement were revised without you knowing the new verbiage. The only thing you were sure of was that you could count on this small verbal agreement being drawn out in document form for you to sign later.

“Alright, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got a deal. I’m sure the board will agree. Now come on. If we walk down fast enough maybe, you’ll make it in time for shift change.”

She didn’t wait to see if you were going to follow. Why would she when Gloria knew very well you weren’t going to fight it, especially when the main reason for your denial currently wouldn’t be working today.

Anniversaries were never really Robby’s thing.

You would never admit it, but your anxiety was fifteen feet away from grabbing you in a chokehold.

Get a fucking grip.

It had been two years since you left the ER. Two years since Robby and you had called time on seven years together. Seven years of memories filled with all the good and bad, co-parenting Jake, and keeping your relationship secret until it wasn’t. The early years of walking to work together with quick kisses goodbye before you split up just before you turned onto the final street to the hospital. The both of you choose different entrances each time to try and not raise suspicion.

It took Dana four days to figure out the two of you were together.

Dana was perceptive like that. Hell, she’d been the angel on your shoulder whispering hints that Robby just might like you as much as you liked him.

“I told him to ask you out to dinner. He thinks you’ll say no.” “If he did ask, I should say no,” you countered. Your eyes struggle to stay trained on the chart in front of you. “Yeah, but I know you’ll say yes.” “And what makes you so sure about that, Dana?” “Because if you don’t stop giving each other googly eyes from across my nursing station I’m going to throttle you both.”

Robby had only been divorced from his wife for less than a year. You’d overheard snippets of conversations between Robby and Abbot, Dana, or Adamson about custody battles and visitations. The last thing you wanted to do was be a possible added stress to an already stressful situation. At least, that was the bullshit you kept telling yourself to try and stay away.

But Dana was right (she usually was, but you’d never tell her that).

You couldn’t pinpoint a specific time when things started to change between the two of you. The coffee breaks on the roof looking out over the top of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The jokes that caused smiles to crest over his face, rivaled the glow from the sun's early morning rays. He told you later, in the med closet, how the sound of your laughter was something he looked forward to hearing; the warmth of it was enough to keep helping him make it through his shift. A sound he began to crave in the quiet corners of his home. You could still remember the phone calls and early texts. The caution and heavy breaths that harbored a desire that longed to reach out and consume the other. The two of you were equally afraid to be the one to take that first step over the bounds of professionalism.

The two of you knew the dangers of playing with lingering touches and knowing glances. The way you both acted like you wouldn’t ultimately end up burned. You could still recall the way he’d traced his thumb across your lips. The possessive way his eyes followed the motion made the desire for him to close that space, to claim you, to take you, threatened to make you lose all self-control.

Eventually, you stopped listening to the warning signs of all the what ifs; of being the intern and worrying about how it would make you look. When Robby asked you out on that date you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone the way you did with Robby. He was so attentive; he was thoughtful in the most pragmatic ways - packing extra scrubs in your pack. Teaching you how to fish and the differences between the lures and bait. The way he took the time to explain the objects he carved from wood and how much pressure was necessary to create the grooves and pattern. The way his voice would sound as he read to you; the soothing vibrations of his baritone the safest place you could be with his fingers in your hair.

He carved out a life that made it possible for all three of you to co-exist. His son, Jake, becomes the deepest interwoven part of your life you never realized was missing. On days Robby had him, you planned camping trips up in the mountains to hike and fish. To go on museum trips into Jake’s latest hobbies with the two of you making sure to have his game day off to cheer embarrassingly loud for him in the stands. The shared looks of pain from beside each other on the couch while Jake practiced his clarinet upstairs when he thought he wanted to be in the school band. You got lost in furniture manuals, cooking dinners that ended a few times with questionable outcomes, and attempting to bake tarts and pies that led to a one-time usage of the fire extinguisher. The euphoria of loving someone and being loved so fiercely in return made the years feel weightless, and when Robby finally proposed it made so much sense to say yes.

And COVID happened.

The quarantine and the endless amounts of patients that just kept coming - that felt like, no matter what you did, they couldn’t be saved. Family and friends, you both knew were ravaged by the infection. There were no answers. No medical treatments that you knew for sure would be what would save them. It didn’t discriminate and took lives without mercy. You just came to work every day, exhausted, and fighting to do what you could to heal those you could. You showed up every day for your patients.

Then Adamson passed.

There was no denying Robby blamed himself for what occurred with his mentor. It didn’t matter what you said. What Dana, Abbot, or anyone else said. The guilt weighed down on his conscience, pressed so violently, that eventually, Robby cracked under the strain. His grief was all-encompassing and the added loss that should’ve been experienced together, was left for only you to bear - widening the gap between you until it became a chasm.

The last time you’d seen Robby he’d been leaving to go to work. The latest fight - the endless bitter silences that stretched on - tore at the fabric of your being. Fractured pieces you didn’t know how to pick up on your own no longer felt worth fighting for. So, you decided to remove yourself from the equation.

When Robby came home from work that night you were already gone. Your engagement ring and house key sitting on a note that asked him not to contact you. He’d made it clear enough that there was no place for you in the new person that he was becoming - made it clear that your grief would be processed alone.

And so that was how you ended up transferring to family medicine. How you made sure to steer clear of all the places Robby was known to frequent. You ignored, as politely as you could, texts from Dana. Refused to talk about him in a work capacity or to close friends.

The truth was that you were still in love with Robby after all this time. The idea that someone else could ever make you feel as whole - as complete - didn’t exist. So, yes, you only agreed to come back down to the emergency department, where it all started, because you comfortably knew he wouldn’t be here. Dana, you could deal with her by using a little recon - you just needed to stay two steps ahead of her. Langdon was easier to deal with because his loyalty to Robby was absolute, which made you public enemy number one. For you, that meant he’d stay away from you on principle.

You were in the middle of shoving down the growing dread that was threatening to spill out of you when you came around the north hall triage. It was morning rounds. It was the attending's job to give the early morning pep-talk, debrief about patients who came in last shift, and go over the board. What you found waiting for you was what looked very much like a fresh batch of interns and/or med students taking instructions from a doctor you knew painfully well. One that made you question if it was too late to back out and turn tail and run.

“Oh, shit.” Dana huffed the words under her breath, but Robby caught them. The way each one dripped in a warning he should’ve heeded. “Gloria -”

It didn’t surprise him to hear she was here. He’d been warned by Dana but what Robby hadn’t expected was to see you - you - standing beside her.

You who he thought completely disappeared to the point you’d quit the hospital. You, who he thought of in the most inconvenient of times, who haunted him, and you who he wanted to fucking scream and curse at you but also ask how the fuck you’re doing because Jesus Christ…

He didn’t need this shit today.

At least you had the decency to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Good morning, Dr. Robby. I’m aware you and most of your emergency department know Dr. Fullerton. She used to work down here previously a few years back.”

“You could say that again,” Langdon muttered.

“I’m sorry why are you bringing a random fucking doctor down into The Pitt?”

The annoyance contrasted with the peaceful professionalism Gloria tried to hold together. But if she was going to bring random doctors down here, God, bring you fucking down here, he was damn sure going to make her work for it. Inch by irritating inch.

“We both know that Dr. Fullerton is not a hospital resident or an attending transfer. As previously stated, she worked down here in this very ED, with you no less. She also holds one of the highest Press Ganey scores in this hospital.”

“I’m sure she’s very proud,” his words ground out like he’d swallowed gravel.

Gloria shot him a warning look as she continued, “-Something I figure she could teach the new students and old physicians here. I’m bringing her down to assist Dr. McKay today in triage.”

“Let me guess - this either has to deal with the hospital's numbers or lack of working bodies down here. Am I right?”

“What a fantastic guess, Robby. It does indeed have to do with the hospitals' numbers and poor patient output. Based on those numbers alone today, if it shows Dr. Fullerton’s presence helps patient satisfaction go up and wait times decrease - even in the slightest - she’ll be staying here. Permanently.”

His jaw ticked violently. He wanted to bristle and tell her where to stick her metrics and numbers. To tell Gloria to get you the fuck out of his Pitt. Somewhere in his brain, his common sense slowly won out. It didn’t matter how much of a fit he threw; Gloria had every intention of making you stay. Down here. With him.

Robby also knew, realistically, that the chances of you driving up productivity were high. You were a damn good doctor. One of the best. Adamson had made sure. Christ, Robby himself made sure. Fuck. The edges of his vision were beginning to tighten in glaring white; he needed to get away before he succumbed to a panic attack.

He should’ve kept looking away, but he was fighting a losing battle trying to keep his eyes away from you. It’d been nearly two years since he came home to find you gone. Two years for him to think of the hundreds of thousands of questions that he would demand for you to answer if he ever saw you again. All those months of burying it all down, telling himself he got what he wanted, only for it to be dredged up, and on a day like today, he was already close to his breaking point.

You looked good. Great, even. Just as gorgeous as the first day he’d met you and begrudgingly, for a split second, he wondered how you saw him. If you were equally as fucked as he was.

“Make sure she stays with you up in triage, Dr. McKay. I don’t want to see her in my red zone.”

He didn’t wait to hear confirmation from Gloria or McKay. He didn’t bother to see if you understood he meant every word he said. You had no place down here. Robby needed to start his shift - to start the normalcy of seeing patients - before he completely forgot why he chose to come into work today.

He needed to get away before all his resolve shattered. The easiest way to keep himself whole was to begin his day. To do his rounds and when he passed you, he did his best to pretend you didn’t even exist.

___________

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! Much love.

#Residuals #ongoing series #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch #the pitt max #dr robby #dr robby x reader #dr robby x oc #michael robinavitch x you #doctor robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #saucy angsty babies

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sooniebby · 7 months ago

Text

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑

w.c › 11k

warnings › This is an OC. Reader’s last name is Lee. Internalized homophobia from reader. Religious guilt 10x. Thanks @sauvhffp for that Drabble, I borrowed an idea you presented in it. I don’t hate religious people pls don’t think that.

plot › You’re a cog in the machine that is capitalism, wondering if the days are worth it. When you meet a certain man that will make you wish for your mundane life again.

kinks › humping, handjobs, praise, lite pet play, degradation

words to know › Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Seonbae (선배) — term for someone in a higher position, can be work/school. Yeobo (여보) — “darling/honey” only married couples use this term. Gangaji (강아지) — puppy. Eonni (언니) — term a younger girl will call an older girl.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭

두통

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

다가와. 다가와, 자기야.

“Are you that scared of me? Or… are you scared of what this means for you? What you’re hiding deep inside.”

내가 너를 유혹하니?

“When you kneel for your God, do you think of when you kneeled for me?”

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아?

“Kneeling for me in the same room your mother kneeled for Christ.”

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해.

“You can’t forget me, Lee (Name). Even with my body rotting right outside your door. You’ll find another me.”

“And he’ll break you; showing you true temptation.”

“Yah! Lee (Name)! Wake up!”

You gasped, sitting up. A paper was stuck to your cheek from your drool as you rubbed at your eyes, trying to fight the sleep that was threatening to seep back in. Another slam at your desk caused you to shriek as you glanced over at who was causing the commotion.

It wasn’t your boss, thankfully. But it was still a higher up, Park Minhee.

“Lee (Name), have you completed the paper I sent you this morning? You seem to be comfortably napping during work hours.” She said, raising an eyebrow. Her back straightened as she looked down at you like you were a little kid, not another adult that was only four years younger than her.

“Yes, Miss Park. I did finish it, I sent it straight to the boss.” You quickly answered, pulling off the paper stuck to your cheek. Minhee stared at you for a moment before letting out a humph.

She turned her attention to your colleagues who were watching the exchange. “Don’t follow in Lee (Name)’s footsteps, you hear? When you finish your work early, you will gladly get up and come ask me for more work. Do you understand?”

It took a moment before everyone reluctantly agreed. Minhee smiled, pushing up her circular glasses as she walked off, her heels clicking against the recently polished ground.

Your body felt limp once she was finally out of earshot. You could hear murmuring from your coworkers, a few a bit snarky about Minhee’s attitude being your fault.

“You okay, Seonbae?”

You glanced over to see Kim Eunha. Eunha was recently hired after being an intern for almost two years. It was pure luck she got the job here. Even for you, you were about to quit as an intern before you finally got the job.

Eunha was sweet. One of the only people you actually liked at your job.

“I’m okay. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” You muttered, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Oh! Here.” Eunha moved to grab something off her desk before handing it over to you. It was a glasses cleaner. You thanked her, taking off your glasses as you cleaned the marks off them.

Eunha hummed for a moment before grinning nervously. “Uhm, Seonbae. I was wondering if you were coming to the party Friday night.”

“Party?”

“Mhm. It’s being held for Kang Taeyeon’s birthday. She invited the whole department.”

“I don’t think I want to go. No one here besides you likes me.”

“Please?” Eunha frowned, sighing slightly. “You never come to the dinners or parties we hold. It might help bridge the gap if you attend them.”

You knew she was technically right. With you continuously pushing yourself away from your coworkers, the gap was wide.

But you didn’t necessarily feel like bridging it. There was no way you wanted to get close to people.

“I’ll think about it.” It was only Monday. You had four days to think about it. Eunha beamed at your words and eagerly went back to her assignment.

Like you’d actually want to go.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Your family was relatively agonistic when you were growing up. Mom and Dad didn’t care too much about religion to raise you under it with your elder sisters. While your mother’s family were strict Christian conservatives, your father’s family was practically the opposite.

Though you couldn’t necessarily call him your father these days, could you?

It wasn’t until your tenth birthday that something cracked in your family. The once happy family of five soured.

And it was all your fault. That’s what your father screamed every day and night as he cried into a beer bottle.

Your mother was unfaithful.

Unfaithful for so long that your sisters were technically your half sisters.

After that, your mother and father didn’t divorce for some odd reason. Mom began to wallow in self pity about her actions and turned to God. Her once flip-floppy faith turned solid. Anything to make her feel good about herself.

Your father took his anger out on you.

The eldest sister, having reached the age of twenty, was embarrassed by her family’s history. More so that she dared to happily love an affair baby. She hardly talks to you as if you asked to be born from a man your mother fucked on the side.

Everyday from then on, you were dragged to church each Sunday with your mother’s family. They practically beamed at having you at arms reach. Your weak mind took in all of the prayers and sermons to heart, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your family will come back.

Your family would come back once you repented your sins.

Sins…?

Ten year old Lee (Name) was sinful.

Your therapist had laughed when you said that.

You haven’t gone back to see him in over a year. So sensitive you were. The mere thought of everything that you learned being wrong made you feel sick.

“(Name), you made it. Your sisters are already here.”

Your feet always hesitated before you walked into your parents’ house. It was like your body was trying to protect you but you would always ignore it. Your mother rushed you inside as you slipped off your shoes, following after her.

“Afternoon.” Your eldest sister, Yerin, didn’t attempt to look up from her phone.

“Hi, how was your day?” Your second eldest sister, Yena, asked. Yena was staring at you as she picked up her bag from the chair next to her so you could join her at the dining table.

You gave Yena a smile. “It was okay. How was yours?”

“Great! The kids are calming down now that it’s been a month of school.” Yena smiled. She was a kindergarten teacher. Yerin was a lawyer. More meaningful compared to the plain office job you worked. You wished you liked your job as much as Yena did.

Your mother was fretting around as she placed down the dishes for dinner. You almost attempted to help her but stopped yourself, glancing down at your hands. Yena began talking about a “poop incident” at her school a week ago when Yerin finally looked up from her phone.

Yerin looked you right in the eye as she tilted her head. “You don’t visit often; what, found your real family?”

“Eonni!” Yena frowned, stopping her rambling to glare at Yerin.

You didn’t even attempt to say anything. This was to be expected with her. “Is he coming out for dinner tonight?”

“Why? You could talk to him yourself.” Yerin rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why you don’t talk to him. He raised you, giving you shelter, food, water. The least you could do is act like a son to him. He’s getting stressed out at his job these days…”

You tuned her out. She wouldn’t understand. She had already left the home when your father turned on you. When your father didn’t hesitate to lock you in the closet until your voice was hoarse from screaming and Yena finally came home from her club.

Yerin was just like your mother. Pretending the way your father reacted was normal. Your mother was still oddly religious—fully believing that she had her sins forgiven by her lord and savior. She still dragged you to church every Sunday.

You were sure she was attempting to scout out a good Christian girl for you to marry now. So many of the older church ladies were stopping you after the sermon to introduce you to their daughters.

Your father didn’t come out for dinner.

Your mother kept saying he was just tired.

You weren’t a fucking idiot. That man still hated you for daring to be born and not dying in childbirth.

The food tasted bitter and cold. The cross on the wall of the dining room felt like a curse. Bible verses hanging right in your face. He was mocking you at this point. Why haven’t you been forgiven for your sins?

“How has work been? Have you gotten a promotion yet?” Your mother suddenly asked.

The kimchi in your mouth was so bitter that you almost throw up but you swallowed it down. “No. They wouldn’t give me a promotion so soon.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed in on your face as her lips twitched. “You seem irritated. Have you been praying? Perhaps you should come to the nightly sermons I mentioned to you. Work must be stressing you out.”

You glanced over at Yena. “Do you go the sermons?”

Yena frowned, biting her lip. “Ah, no. I haven’t been going as often as I should.” She laughed nervously, rubbing at her arm. “But uhm, my husband isn’t exactly all that interested in religion.”

Yerin clinked her chopsticks against the bowl. “Why do you ask, (Name)? Trying to get out of your duty?”

Duty.

It was a fucking duty.

Yerin and Yena weren’t forced by your mom to go to church. But you were. You were dragged there by your arms even if you kicked and scream.

Your father had always told you that he’d never force a religion onto you. Though it was an empty lie, huh?

Deep down, you had a feeling it wasn’t just being an affair baby anymore. Your parents, even sisters, assumed something about you that made you anxious.

Why haven’t you been interested in girls like any other boy?

You were normal. You were fucking normal and you weren’t whatever your family was thinking. The sin of being born to an adulator was already on your record being a ‘homosexual’ of all things was practically a death sentence.

It was normal to not go crazy over any girl just because she was ‘pretty’ in the eyes of the church. You had standards.

“No,” you muttered, staring at the bowl of kimchi. Kimchi and rice. You’ve always eaten this. Always eaten it without a care in the world.

Your throat burned as you vomited on the dining table.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Seonbae, is this right?”

You glanced over at Eunha, checking the paper she was going over. “The number here is wrong. You subtracted instead of adding.”

“Ah! Thanks, Seonbae.”

It was Friday evening, your shift almost over in an hour. Eunha was still in the belief that you were coming to the birthday party. You didn’t know if you could turn her down. You’ve recently started going to the night sermons your mother was talking about.

They were bothering you—affecting your sleep. You would always come home with this weird ache in your chest that you couldn’t get rid of.

The hour felt long before it was finally over. It was bustling as people immediately got ready to go home for the weekend. You glanced over at the clock, trying to think of a way to excuse yourself when a hand patted you on the back.

“You coming, Lee (Name)? We’re heading to the restaurant!” It was one of your older coworkers, Park Woohyun. The ‘heartthrob’ of the financial department of the company. You understood why. He was handsome.

A few people often asked if he was related to Lee Dong-Wook.

You frowned, “ah, uhm, I’m not sure…”

Woohyun hummed. “What do you mean? I doubt you have anything better to do.”

Your jaw tightened as you heard a few chuckles. Anything better to do. Yeah, he was right. At most you were going to attend the sermon again. But to be told that out loud with the sounds of laughter following was humiliating.

Why did it seem like everyone hated you?

Were they right?

Does your sinful past follow you everywhere that people subconsciously feel it?

“Okay.” You suddenly said, a tight smile on your lips. “I’ll come.”

Besides, you needed to drink.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Is… this okay?”

His lips pressed against yours before pulling away. The cool air from the opened window eases into the bedroom. It caused your body to shiver as he let out a laugh.

“No. It’ll never be okay. Not if you want to stay a perfect church boy.”

“Then don’t kiss me again..! I can’t do anything else to make Him angry.”

“Don’t kiss you again?”

Hands gripped your shirt, pulling you close against his chest. Nose touching as his gaze bore into yours. His eyes looked blank as he leaned down, his lips teasing yours.

“Is that what you really want, Lee (Name)?”

You can’t remember if you ever responded to his question. The aftermath is all you can remember. He grabbed his backpack and went outside. You watched him get on his bike, the moonlight shining down on him.

There was something he said before biking away. It was hazy in your mind now but the essence was still there.

No matter how much you tried—you’ll never make your family happy.

Then he biked away. You turned to get back inside your house when a crash was heard. Running. You ran not even a few feet to see him on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. A drunk, clumsy driver stepped out of her car as she began babbling something.

All you remember is that the last thing you told Kim Junhan before his death at the ripe age of sixteen was that you would never be a ‘homosexual’ like he was.

“𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙔 𝘽𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙃𝘿𝘼𝙔!”

The sounds of clapping caused you to jump up, glancing over to see your coworkers had brought out the cake for Kang Taeyeon. You paid them no mind, staring down at your drink. Whenever you drank too much, he would always seep back into your mind.

You downed the drink in ease before asking for another one from the bartender. She raised an eyebrow at you but complied anyway.

The memories of Kim Junhan always felt so bitter.

The bartender placed the drink down. You were about to thank her when she held out a tissue for you. She must’ve noticed your confusion when she just pointed at your face and waited for you to take the tissue.

You took it and began to tap your face. When you glanced at the tissue it was wet. Fuck. You quickly wiped at your face, hoping that you didn’t look overly pathetic. Crying in a restaurant while your coworkers were singing happy birthday.

What a joke.

After the embarrassment began sinking in even more, you drank four more shots until the bartender refused to give you anymore. You were disgruntled with her but knew she was just doing her job. So you gave her the bill and left the restaurant.

None of your coworkers noticed.

You shivered as the cool air immediately attacked you once outside. You were only dressed in a thin white button up and black slacks. Your hands shook as you quickly made sure to put on your suit jacket. Though it did nothing to make you feel warm.

Perhaps you were too drunk but you suddenly felt like crying.

It had been over ten years now since Junhan died. You briefly wondered what day it was. It must’ve been his anniversary of his death. Maybe that’s why. That’s all it is.

You kneeled down and couldn’t stop the sobbing as you curled into yourself. A drunk man crying on the wall of a restaurant.

How pathetic.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Moon Eunjae hated restaurants like this. Cheap and tacky. But more importantly, the rowdy group of corporate slaves that drank until they dropped. Looked like it was on their birthday.

He turned his attention back over to his plate of food, pushing it towards his friend. “Ugh. Eat it for me.”

His friend, Yoonchae, rolled her eyes. “What? Is the food too ‘cheap’ for your liking?” She asked, grabbing his plate and immediately digging in.

“Hey, if you paid for us, we wouldn’t drag you to cheap places,” his friend beside him, Rowoon, laughed. “Not everyone can afford a meal over 100,000 won.”

Eunjae hummed. “It’s just shit. Just because you’re poor doesn’t mean your food has to be shit.”

Rowoon laughed louder while Yoonchae snapped her chopsticks in half. A loud yell from the crowd caused Rowoon to sigh.

“Is this the only time they have fun? They’re so fucking loud.” He whined, shaking his head.

“It’s her birthday, cut them some slack.” Yoonchae muttered as she grabbed a new pair of chopsticks.

Eunjae didn’t say anything. He knew he wouldn’t understand how those corporate slaves would feel being free on weekends. Though he never attempted to understand. He was only twenty-one compared to the group of adults who looked closer to their mid thirties.

He rubbed at his face before standing up. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Hope you catch cancer.” Yoonchae said as he walked out of the building.

Eunjae yawned as he made it outside, the cool air hardly bothering him as he dressed in a thick jacket made with fluffy fur. He pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips as he easily lit it.

He stood there for a moment before hearing soft hiccuping. His eyes glanced to the right and he immediately looked away. Someone crying against the wall of a cheap restaurant that sells noodles that are obviously thirty years old.

Pathetic.

Oh well, he wouldn’t bother them.

His smoke break was needed as he hummed to himself. The calming wind breezed past him when he heard the stranger let out a particularly loud whimper. He was set on ignoring them again when they pulled their head out of their hands.

You were… pathetic.

So fucking pathetic.

But cute.

Like a puppy.

Round doe eyes wet with tears that’s stained your cheeks. Your body heaving as you took deep breathes from your heavy crying. Lips almost in a pout.

Who knew a man could be so cute?

Eunjae was ready to just leave you alone still despite his weird interest in you when your gaze turned over to him. Your body shivered as the wind picked up again. Doe puppy eyes bore into his as you sniffled, curling into yourself tighter to keep your body warm.

He didn’t know what to say. His cigarette was slipping out of his mouth as it parted in his shock.

Your eyes flickered to his face. He quickly wondered if you found him attractive. If you were feeling this odd need to be near him like he felt for you.

“I’m…” You whispered, he noticed your odd movements. Almost sluggish. Were you drunk? He waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Cold.” You lamely finished.

Eunjae didn’t know what exactly you thought he could do about that. But he didn’t say anything. You didn’t look like you’d listen to anything he would say right now. Right now he should be a ‘good’ citizen and get you home.

“What’s your address? You’ll freeze to death out here in such thin clothes.” He said, pulling out his phone to call a taxi.

You frowned, slowly standing up. Your body pressed against the wall as your eyes felt heavy. It was almost as cute as it was pathetic to watch you stumble over to him. Eunjae made no attempt to help you.

He enjoyed seeing you stumble.

Your hand gripped at his arm as you glanced at his phone. Your body felt so heavy that it felt as if you’d collapse if you let go of Eunjae.

“Address?” Eunjae asked again.

“Too far.” You whispered, subconsciously snuggling close to him. His jacket was so warm, so nice. Why couldn’t he share it with you?

“Too far? Come on, tell me where you live.”

“Incheon.”

“Incheon? You don’t live in Seoul?”

“Too expensive,” you whined, glaring at him. “It’s only an hour away… but trains closed.”

Eunjae checked the time. You were right, it was past midnight. No taxi was going to drive a full hour so late as well without some hefty cash. And you didn’t look like the type of be carrying such cash.

The door to the restaurant opened as a man and woman walked out. Eunjae watched them, noticing they must’ve been your coworkers. They looked worried almost scared as they frantically glanced around the street.

He wondered if they needed something until they glanced over at him. The pure anger on their face would’ve terrified him if he cared.

“What are you doing to my Seonbae?” The woman asked, glaring at Eunjae. She reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you over. You didn’t attempt to stop her, releasing your grip on Eunjae’s jacket.

The man, a similar height to Eunjae almost looked like he was only one step away from punching him. “Were you trying to take him somewhere?”

Eunjae rolled his eyes. So much for helping. “I was trying to take him home. What is he your boyfriend?” He laughed, tilting his head.

“Woohyun Seonbae, let’s just get back inside, (Name) Seonbae is shivering.” The woman said, holding you close.

Woohyun glanced over at you. He only shook his head at Eunjae. “We’ll take him home.”

Eunjae shrugged. He didn’t care about you that much. But oddly enough, he couldn’t help but feel a bit… angry? Maybe it was the fact someone older than him was treating him like a predator.

Respect your elders or something like that.

He tugged at his jacket, holding it in his hands. The cool air immediately attacked him. No wonder you were shivering like a dog. He walked over to you, ignoring the woman’s glare at him.

“Here. Since you liked it so much.” Eunjae draped the jacket over your shoulders, helping you slip your arms in to properly wear it. Your doe eyes stared up at him as he zipped it up, a smirk on his lips. “Just return it to me, Gangaji.”

“Wait,” you called out. Eunjae glanced over at you just before he entered the restaurant. “How can I..? I don’t know your name..”

Eunjae grinned. “It’s in the jacket.”

He walked right back inside, joining Rowoon and Yoonchae. Rowoon hummed as he smirked.

“Where’s your jacket?” Rowoon asked.

“Gave it to someone.”

“You? Giving away your belongings?” Yoonchae laughed. “Why? Was she cute?”

“Very. He was as cute as a puppy.”

Yoonchae and Rowoon shared knowing looks at each other. Despite Eunjae’s ‘nonchalant’ behavior, they knew he must’ve been infatuated with this stranger to give up his favorite jacket.

They made a silent prayer for the poor soul.

Anyone Eunjae liked would often wish they never met him.

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞

You awoke with a groan, feeling a comfortable bed beneath you. Your arms stretched out as felt considerably warm. A grunt left you as you sat up and took a look at your surroundings.

It was a nicer apartment. Your gaze flickered to the window. This was certainly Seoul. Incheon did have the busy streets as well but Seoul was considerably filled with people and cars rushing by.

As you got out of the bed, you noticed you had a large fluffy jacket on. You almost didn’t want to take it off. It was so warm and comfortable. But you pulled it off to see where you even got this.

Oh shit.

Dolce & Gabbana.

Your eyes read the name tag multiple times to see if you were imagining it.

Dolce & Gabbana!!!

Where did you get this?

You gently placed the coat that must’ve cost your rent on the bed and sprinted out of the bedroom. Just even where were you? The apartment was certainly nice but it didn’t look to be anything expensive. Quite small.

“Oh, Lee (Name) you’re awake!” A voice called out to you.

You glanced over to the kitchen to see Park Woohyun wearing an apron. Kim Eunha was right beside him holding a plate of pancakes. The two were smiling at you weirdly. Well, it was normal for Eunha to smile at you like that but you can’t ever remember Woohyun looking happy to see you.

“Do you have a hangover? I have some tablets in my bathroom cabinet.” Woohyun said, nodding towards the direction you came from. You did have a headache but didn’t want to leech on him anymore than you have.

“Uhm,” you whispered, walking over to them. “Did I sleep on your bed?”

Woohyun hummed. “You got my bedroom. Kim Eunha went back to her place but she came back to check on you. You slept in for a minute.”

Eunha hummed, smiling widely at you. “It’s 3 pm!”

Your eyes widen. “3 pm?! Why didn’t you wake me up?” You frowned.

“Why would I? You seemed like you needed the rest.”

“It’s okay, (Name) Seonbae. You had a crazy night, you needed all the rest you could get.” Eunha walked over to you, pushing you to sit down at the dinner table as she placed the plate of pancakes in front of you.

You muttered a quick thank you. “What do you mean? Did I do anything weird?”

Woohyun shrugged. “Define weird. You mean during the taxi ride here you cried that none of your coworkers liked you.” He took off his apron and walked over to you, sitting down beside you.

“I didn’t know you had that impression of me, Lee (Name).” Woohyun said, his face suddenly serious. “Have I been treating you terribly? Why haven’t you told me?”

Eunha sat down across from you, a frown on her lips. “Seonbae, I don’t know what gave you the impression we hated you but we don’t! We’re sorry we didn’t notice when you left the bar… If we were quicker that kid wouldn’t have been bothering you!”

You began to nibble on the pancakes when Woohyun gave you calculated look that was practically telling to eat or else. “What kid?” You muttered.

“The kid that gave you the jacket.” She said.

Your brain was a bit hazy. You couldn’t remember any kid that you spoke to. What kid was he to wear such a large jacket that it practically swallowed you whole? All you could really remember was what the kid called you.

강아지

You don’t know why he would call you a puppy, especially if he was younger than you. You do vaguely remember he didn’t speak respectfully with you.

Kids these days. You shook your head.

“I need to return the jacket then. Did he give his name?”

Woohyun shrugged. “He said it was written on the jacket. Check the name tag.” He leaned in close to you, causing you to flinch. His eyes narrowed in on you before he pulled away. “I think you suffer from low self-esteem, Lee (Name).”

Eunha coughed, her eyes wide. “Woohyun Seonbae! That’s not appropriate to say to someone randomly.”

“But it’s true.” Woohyun said, shaking his head. He was around fifty—probably uncaring about how to properly be a human at this point in life. “Only someone with low self-esteem would blindly believe everyone hates him. I joke with you but you seem to always take it as me punching you down.

“A normal person would tell the other that they don’t like the joke. However, you seem to think everyone else hates you as well. Kang Taeyeon invited you to the party for a reason. She was quite sad you stayed in the corner. It was party, you were supposed to mingle with everyone else.”

Eunha frowned. “Seonbae… This is a lot to spring up on someone with a hangover. Besides, it’s normal to not speak up in a work place setting. You’re our supervisor.”

“It’s not like I’ll fire you because you called me out.”

“Yeah well not every boss is as normal as you.”

You could only stare at Woohyun in shock. The audacity. The fucking audacity to bluntly tell you that you were suffering with low self worth.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Not just because he was your boss saying it.

But because he was right. Your therapist had said the exact same thing.

Were you that miserable that everyone could notice?

It was so fucking embarrassing. Why were you so embarrassing?

You didn’t even notice you were crying until your vision got blurry. Eunha began fussing obviously worried that Woohyun had hurt your feelings. And he did, he definitely did. You didn’t need this so early in the day, even if it was the afternoon.

A slight hiccup left you before you felt a hand pat you on the head. Your eyes glanced over to Woohyun. He looked a bit apologetic as he rubbed your head like you were ten years old.

“Sorry, Lee (Name). I hurt you again didn’t I?”

An apology? He really apologized.

Your lips quivered before you began to bawl. Woohyun and Eunha were shocked and quickly grabbed tissues as you wailed as if you were a baby.

Your dad was only ten years older than Woohyun.

Your dad never apologized like Park Woohyun.

To see someone close to your dad age, someone who could even be your father… To hear those words.

You needed to get back into therapy. You were a fucking mess.

Woohyun let you get cleaned up in his bathroom, telling you to just pull some clothes from his dresser. Eunha had given you a hug before you left. It was embarrassing to cry in front of a man who could be your father and a woman who was only two years younger than you. But it also felt liberating to see them care so much about you.

Did your coworkers… really not hate you like you assumed?

How many situations have you been in that you wrongly assumed the other hated you?

Maybe you… maybe you should make the effort to talk to people.

You shook your head. One step at a time. Your eyes flickered over to the jacket on the bed. You walked over and checked the tag again. Was there any other tag in it? It took a moment of you checking any space on the jacket before you came across a second tag that had the laundry instructions.

문은재

Moon Eunjae? A pretty name. You checked to see if there was any number. There was not. You checked the pockets until you pulled out a receipt. It looked to be from a delivery. The address and phone number was on it.

This must be his phone number. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone, noticing a few texts from your mother. The familiar feeling of agony began to grow in your chest. You almost wanted to throw up the pancakes you ate.

Was it normal to hate being near your mother?

To even see a message from her and your world felt like it was crashing down.

She had sent multiple messages asking you where you were. Ah, there was another sermon yesterday. Looks like she was practically begging you to join the one for tonight. Why do churches even hold so many sermons everyday? Do people really enjoy that?

You checked the time. It was close to 5 pm now. No way would you make it in time for the 6 pm sermon. You didn’t respond and just decided to attend the usually Sunday Service at noon.

Your body instantly calmed when you decided that but you didn’t want to think any further on why church was so intense for you. You typed out the number on your phone and called it, hoping you could return the jacket tonight while still in the area.

It rang for a moment before it was answered.

“Who’s this?”

“Uhm, hello. Is this Mister Moon Eunjae..? You gave me your jacket last night.”

“Oh, Gangaji. You were able to remember me? Aren’t you a good boy?”

Your face flushed. What the fuck? You weren’t about to let someone younger than you talk down to you. “It’s Lee (Name). Anyway, I want to return your jacket while I’m still in Seoul. Where do you live?”

“Hm, you’re no fun.” He chuckled. “You got my number from the receipt, right? Go to the address.”

“What, but what time—?”

He hung up. That little…

You sighed. The address was in the direction of Incheon actually. So it wouldn’t be out of your way. You dressed in Woohyun’s clothes and put your dirty clothes in a plastic bag Eunha gave you.

It was awkward going back to the living room. Eunha had went back home before it got too dark. You were glad to not have to talk to her until Monday. But it was awkward seeing Woohyun.

Woohyun got up from the couch to let you out. You were set to rush out when he grasped your shoulder, turning you to face him. His face was blank before a slight smile pulled on his lips as he gave you comforting pat on the head.

“Get home safe. See you Monday.”

You definitely did not leave the apartment feeling happy, no you did not.

The address led you to a hotel. You at first thought maybe it was just a fancy apartment complex but the receptionist called it a hotel when you asked. It felt awkward just standing there in clothes a bit too big on your body.

Everyone that walked past was dressed to the nines. Expensive coats. Shining jewelry. It almost felt like a joke that you were even able to stand in the same area as them.

“Gangaji?”

You turned over to see someone walking over to you. You mentally cursed at yourself for responding to the nickname. The person who you assumed was Moon Eunjae grinned, wearing clothing vastly different from everyone else.

A baggy sweatshirt with faded jeans. He didn’t look like someone who could own such an expensive jacket but maybe he was just dressing down. You held the jacket out when he got close, a slight smile on your lips.

“Here… Thank you for offering it to me. I didn’t mean to act so childish last night.” You said, bowing your head slightly. Being his elder, you felt a bit embarrassed he took care of you.

Eunjae looked to be a few inches taller than you. Shaggy black hair. He had sharp dark brown eyes that stared straight at you. His lips pulled into a smug smile as he tilted his head. It took a moment before he grabbed his jacket from your hand.

“Thanks.” He said, his voice smooth and silky. You almost wanted to run out there but couldn’t help but stare right back at him.

He was handsome but you don’t remember ever being phased by a man being handsome. Mainly… only Kim Junhan had ever made you feel this strange way.

Eunjae suddenly hummed. “Do you want to have dinner before you go?”

Your lips parted, ready to refuse. “Yes.”

What?

You followed Eunjae out of the hotel. He didn’t say anything the entire walk. It was only for a few minutes before you reached a small little restaurant outdoors. There was a large tent covering it. A few people were sitting around eating what looked be Korean BBQ.

Eunjae motioned for you to sit while he talked to the owner. The owner almost looked excited to see Eunjae as she immediately pointed for him to sit down as she grabbed a plate of raw meat.

The two came over to where you sat. Eunjae sat down just as the owner turned on the heat of the grill. She handed Eunjae the meat and gave you a smile before rushing off to help some customers.

You reached out to grab the tongs when he did it for you. Your eyes just simply watched as he began to cook the meat. It was usually the eldest that cooked the meat—so to have him do it felt weird.

After a couple were finished he placed it on your plate, motioning for you to eat.

You silently thanked him and began to eat, having not had Korean BBQ in a hot minute. It was better than you remembered. You couldn’t help but flex your hand, shaking it in excitement as you continued to eat. Eunjae knew how to cook the meat just right!

A snort caught your attention as you looked up.

“You act like a kid.” Eunjae said, placing a few more pieces of meat on your plate. “It’s cute. You really are a Gangaji.”

You blushed. “It’s not right to call me that. I’m older than you.”

“Ah,” Eunjae rolled his eyes. “Should I call you hyung then?”

“Well, no, we’re not close.”

“But what if I want us to be?”

You almost choked as your eyes widen. Eunjae smirked. What the hell was wrong with this kid?

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. I can legally drink.” He said, motioning to the beer he had ordered.

“Well I’m twenty-five; twenty-six in a few weeks. You shouldn’t speak so informally with me.”

“Why should I speak formally with my Gangaji?”

“You little!”

Eunjae ignored your outburst and placed the rest of the meat on your plate. He turned off the grill and began finally eat his meat that he cooked. You knew the meat had to have been cold by now. You were about to give him some of your meat as it was recently cooked but he suddenly looked up at you.

“I usually stay to people my own age.” Eunjae confessed. “But you’re too cute to pass up.”

“I’m a person.”

“And my Gangaji.”

“Stop calling me that!” You whined, trying your best to glare at him.

Eunjae’s eyes bore into yours. You suddenly felt watched as he just stared at you for a moment.

“Are you happy, Lee (Name)?”

Your eyes widen. It was odd to hear him properly speak to you. To use your name. But to even ask such a question. What the hell.

“Why… Why do you…?”

“It’s just a question.” Eunjae said nonchalantly. “I’m not happy, at least not fully. I think I’m not living life the way I want to.”

“I…”

“Are you living the life you want? Are there any people you should cut out of your life?”

A shuddered gasp left your lips, your eyes wide as you tried to speak. Why did it feel like everyone was suddenly your therapist?!

“I’m.. I’m happy.. I…”

“Are you religious?”

“How..?”

Eunjae grinned. “I don’t think you’d wear a cross necklace if you weren’t.”

You glanced down to notice your necklace wasn’t tucked in your shirt like it usually was. Your hand quickly tucked it away. Looking back up at Eunjae, his face was unreadable as he watched your action.

“It’s… I uhm. I do attend sermons. Are you religious?” You asked.

“No.” Eunjae took a sip of his beer. “Someone like me would burn if I step foot in a church.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It was silent for a moment as he went back to eating his meat. Once he was finished, Eunjae glanced over at you.

“We should be friends. My mom wants me to be friends with more sensible people.” Eunjae chuckled, grinning at you. “Will you be my friend, Lee (Name)?”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but we might not have anything in common…”

“We’ll find something.” Was all he said before getting up, motioning that he was going to pay the bill. You almost shot up at the idea but he didn’t take no for an answer.

After paying, Eunjae walked with you to the train station. Usually silence made you feel awkward or anxious. But with Eunjae, the silence felt peaceful. Your mind didn’t overthink with him.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything. You just felt weirdly comfortable with him. There was an odd disappointment when you finally reached the station. You wondered if you should thank him or something when a hand slithered itself to the curve of your waist.

Your eyes widen as lips pressed against yours. Eunjae was kissing you. Kissing you out in the open. Your hand pressed against his chest but you hesitated for a moment to push him away.

No.

A man’s lips aren’t supposed to feel so good.

You were normal. You couldn’t be…

When Eunjae pulled away, you subconsciously moved forward. Your eyes watched his face as a slight smirk pulled on his lips. He released his grip on you before reaching up and tugging off his jacket.

You watched, sober this time, as he placed the jacket on your shoulders. He carefully helped you put it on, zipping it up. His hands rest on your shoulders before gripping your face, squishing it softly before pulling away.

“Text me when you get home, Lee (Name).” Eunjae said. You tried to ignore the weird way you wished he called you Gangaji again. That was weird, no man calls another man a puppy!

You mutely nodded, feeling cozy in the jacket. “How will you get your jacket back..?” You whispered.

Eunjae grinned. “You’ll call me.” He said. “And when I answer your call, you’ll come running to me.”

“Won’t you run to me..?”

“No,” he laughed. “You better go, the trains about to leave.”

“What about your number?”

“It’s the same one you called. Just save it.”

You nodded but your feet was glued to the ground. There wasn’t anything else you wanted to ask but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him. This odd feeling you have. Infatuation probably.

You’ve never felt this way about a woman.

For a man younger than you was insane. You almost wanted to cry. Couldn’t you do anything right?

A hand caressed your cheek, causing you to glance up. His thumb pressed against the bottom of your lip. It gently pried your lips apart before he leaned down, his lips teasing the tip of your ear.

“Don’t look at me like that—I’ll end up leashing you so you’re never away from me.”

You gulped as he pulled away. He didn’t say anything else besides gently nudge you to leave. You listened and quickly walked to train just as the doors open. Just as you stepped inside, you glanced back at him.

Eunjae waved. His lips parting to mouth something.

A blush spread on your cheeks at his words.

Good boy.

Something was awakening within you and it wasn’t going to be good.

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞

Sunday Service.

Sunday Service was something you had come to hate. But you never skipped them despite your body always feeling physically sick on Sundays. You had begun waking up early and vomiting the bile in your throat.

When you told your mother she said it was God pushing the sin out.

Whatever that meant.

You sat in the usual back row, right next to your mom. You always sat at the end so you could bolt right out as soon as it’s finished. The pastor was preaching something. The quotes weren’t registering to you.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t look at your mother knowing she would be looking at you with anger. The pastors words finally began to settle in.

Genesis 19:26.

Your body froze when the pastor began reciting the verses. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

You glanced over at your mother and saw she was smiling at you. It was a genuine smile—as if she was happy about what was happening. She couldn’t have…

Memories of after Kim Junhan’s death filled your mind. You had mostly blocked it out at this point but it was all coming back. After the funeral, your mother had pulled you aside to talk to you.

She quoted Genesis 19:26 to you. Reciting it word for word. Then told you that your ‘worldly’ beliefs would lead you to follow in Junhan’s fate. You remember asking her if she thought Junhan possibly loving the same sex meant he had to die.

You remember her face.

Her blank face before saying yes right. Junhan’s parents were only a few feet away from you. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had told them what she said. That their poor son was killed because God believed homosexuality was a crime.

That God created the accident. That the drunk driver probably wouldn’t have killed them if Junhan only kissed girls.

In a way, you began to believe it was your fault he died. Maybe if you pushed harder, let him know he couldn’t live his life his way.

Your breathing was hard. Your hands gripped at your pants as you watched everyone else just say “amen” over and over again. You glanced up at where the pastor was. Your mother was friends with the pastor.

Did she really request him to recite that specific scripture? Would she do that to you?

Did she suspect you were falling back into homosexual thoughts?

You wanted to vomit.

A strangled gasp left your lips as you shot up. Everything stopped, everyone staring at you. You knew you probably looked like a freak. People probably thought you were scared about a homosexual.

You had to leave. You couldn’t be here anymore.

Your hand gripped at the bench as you made the attempt to leave.

“Where are you going? You’re being disrespectful!” Your mother yelled, grabbing your hand.

“Let go of me!” You involuntarily screamed, ripping your hand from her grasp. A needle could be dropped at your outburst. You, Lee (Name) screamed?

Just as you were about to apologize, a hand gently rest it on your back. You glanced back to see someone you least expected.

Standing behind you was Kim Junhan’s parents, Geon and Dohee. Geon gave you a comforting smile as he gently patted your back. You looked down in embarrassment.

“We’ll help him get some fresh air. Please continue on.” Dohee said, smiling. She turned to your mother and gave her a nod before motioning for her husband to help you walk out. Geon practically dragged you out, your legs feeling like jelly.

You don’t remember ever seeing Geon and Dohee at the church ever since Junhan’s funeral.

The fresh air brought a much needed relief as it kissed your face. Geon held you to his chest as you attempted to stand straight. Dohee came over with a water bottle, dapping at your skin with a handkerchief.

“Poor, baby… You’re sweating.” She muttered.

“Are you alright, (Name)-Ah?” Geon asked, helping you to sit down on the outdoor bench. You practically collapsed and went limp, chugging at the water bottle.

“It looked like he was having a panic attack. (Name)-Ah, do you have any medication for it?” Dohee said. You forgot she was a therapist.

You coughed slightly. “Why are you guys here?”

Dohee smiled somberly. “Well, Friday was Junhan’s death anniversary so we came to visit his grave. We were going to go back to Seoul yesterday but I wanted to visit the church to see some old friends.”

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly whispered. “I haven’t been visiting his grave often.”

Geon patted your head. “It’s alright. We know you love him. How have you been? Is everything treating you alright?”

You frowned. How much should you tell them? Back then, they certainly knew your father hated you. It wasn’t exactly a secret. There were so many times you ran to Junhan’s house to stay the night or even weekend to get away from home.

“I just… I just always feel anxious and terrible when I hear Genesis.” You admitted.

“Genesis? Why? It’s simply about disobedience.” Geon handed you Dohee’s handkerchief that you greatly accepted.

You shook your head. “It’s not over the story’s meaning itself… It’s more so on the memory surrounding it.”

Dohee and Geon didn’t make attempt to press you on it, thankfully. Geon went back inside to grab some more water as Dohee sat down beside you.

“Have you been treating yourself well?” She asked.

“Yes… I have.”

“Mhm.” She glanced over at you. “You can always contact us or even visit us, (Name)-Ah. Just because Junhan is gone doesn’t mean we have to leave your life as well. I felt like you were my own son back then. And even now, you’re my son. I worry for you. I want you to be happy, doing whatever you so wish.”

You frowned, biting your lip. “Anything? What if what I want to do is against God?”

“You want to murder someone?”

“What?! No!”

“Then what could it be? Do you truly believe in God? I remember how you speak about God—it’s always in fear. You never seem happy in church.”

You stared at her. “I guess… I guess I didn’t willingly want to go to church. Coming to church makes me anxious. I don’t like it here.”

“Then why come?” Dohee patted your leg. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re twenty-five. I assume you have your own apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you letting your moth—your fear control you?” She gave you grin. “Before you started going to church, you were so bratty. No one could tell you to do anything without getting into a screaming match. You had to be presented a PowerPoint to do anything. I know it’s been too long for you to truly be that person again.

“But I believe you can see your worth. It’ll take time but you need to stop letting God or anyone else tell you what to do.” She sighed, pulling away just as Geon came outside with a water bottle. He handed it over to you.

You stayed outside with Geon and Dohee for a while longer. They told you to visit them whenever you came back to Seoul and left. It almost felt amazing to be with older people who were normal. You thought back to Dohee’s words as people began to leave church, signaling the service was done.

Your mother and her usual group of friends came over with their children. You usually attempted to force a smile but you didn’t this time, too tired to really do anything. So you didn’t even try to stand up when they were right in front of you.

“Lee (Name), are you alright? That was so scary? What happened?” A woman asked.

“Stomach bug.”

“Stomach bug? But why did you scream?” A man asked, one of the older woman’s son. His wife was right beside him, holding their daughter. You knew that’s what your mother was praying day and night for you to have.

“I was going to throw up if she held me back.”

Your mother looked angry but you didn’t say anything to her. The group began talking a bit amongst themselves when one of your mother’s bestest friend came over with her daughter who was close in age with you.

The mother was Sieun. Her daughter being named Gayoung if you could remember.

“(Name), you gave us quite a fright! Gayoung was so worried she was about to rush out to see if you were alright.” Sieun said, subtly nudging her daughter.

Gayoung smiled shyly, pushing at her hair. “Are you okay now, Lee (Name)..?” She whispered.

You knew Gayoung was any Christian man’s dream girl. A pretty girl who was quiet and modest. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was so desperate to marry her off to any man.

“I need to go, the virus is coming back.” You said, standing up. The three women stared at you in shock as you walked away.

It felt absolutely awful to leave them like that but you didn’t think you could handle staying there for a second longer. You just wanted to get home and collapse on your bed before work tomorrow.

You wanted to die.

It took longer for you to get home because of the need to stop multiple times. But you finally reached it. You got inside and kicked your shoes off, sluggishly dragging your body to your bedroom.

You plopped down with a huff, reaching into your pants to pull out your phone. It was around 4 pm.

You attempted to just sleep then when your eyes landed on a jacket resting on your door. It was fluffy and the most expensive thing in your house. Eunjae’s jacket. You slowly got up and grabbed it, hugging it to your chest.

The scent was nice. It must’ve been recently washed before Eunjae gave it to you. You dropped the jacket on the bed and began taking off your clothes. The clothes landed half hazardously around the room. Your finger tugged at your boxers before you slipped it off as well.

A grin pulled on your lips as you crawled into the bed, right over the jacket. You sprawled it out and leaned down, sniffing it. It was soft against your face. A weird feeling was taking you over as sat up.

In your twenty-five years of life you never masturbated.

Never.

Sexual pleasure was wrong.

Or the pleasure you wanted.

When you had moved out, you thought you would finally be comfortable enough to masturbate. But when you looked up porn, you noticed yourself paying more attention to the guy than the girl.

You had never touched porn again after that.

The most you had ever done was with Junhan.

But even then, you two didn’t go far because you were too scared. You had seen his cock and almost attempted to lick it. You wondered how far your relationship could’ve gone if you weren’t so scared about being punished.

Who could even punish you?

Dohee was right—you were an adult. You couldn’t live your entire life hoping to make your parents happy. To get the love from a man who doesn’t even say your name.

You stared down at the jacket. It can’t be too hard to wash a jacket, right?

Besides, it’s really soft. Is this real fur?

You slowly pressed your lower half against the jacket, your cock twitching already from the sensation. A whimper left your throat as you began to grind against the jacket. You started off slow before that wasn’t enough.

You rutted against the jacket, arching your back to get a better angle. It was so soft but that meant there wasn’t a lot of feeling in rutting. Your hand reached down as you hesitantly grasped your cock, shivering at the feeling.

The sensation was a bit much but you began jerking off. Your hips still moved as your toes curled, your orgasm already coming. To think you were missing out on this.

A stuttered whimper left you as you came, coating the soft fur beneath you. You sighed, pulling your hand away. Well, you could again…

You began to rub down against the jacket again, closing your eyes as you tried to reach a second orgasm. Maybe it was because it was his jacket you were using but you suddenly wondered what Eunjae would think if he saw you like this.

Would he be angry? Punish you for running his clothes with your cum?

Would he degrade you? The thought made you whimper—you liked his praise but you wanted to know how badly he could degrade you.

That couldn’t be normal but you were too close to think about the implications of that.

The high reached you quickly once again as your hips stuttered to a stop and you came. Your breathing was heavy as you pulled away, staring at the brown fur that was covered in white.

A weird sense of pride filled in your chest.

Now whenever he wore it, you’d be ingrained in it.

Wow, what the hell were you thinking?

You shook your head. Weird. That thought was weird. You need to take a shower.

And maybe masturbate some more.

Yeah, you have all night.

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

“You okay?” Eunha asked, sitting down beside you.

No, you weren’t okay. It had been over two weeks and you’ve been rutting against Eunjae’s jacket every night like a damn dog. You always managed to cum two times a row, last night reaching three!

You were insatiable. It must be your body wanting to catch up on all the years you’ve missed but it was fucking crazy that it was mostly dealing with Eunjae’s jacket!!

No way in hell you could return his jacket now. You washed it and now it was lighter than normal! How were you supposed to know you can’t bleach fur!

Eunjae would be furious!!! He’d make you pay him right away!

6,408,249 won!

That’s more than your fucking rent. That’s triple your rent!

You were so fucking screwed.

As you wallowed in self pity, you felt a pat on your back. Woohyun sat down beside you as he began eating his lunch. Eunha was still trying to ask you questions but you didn’t exactly want to tell her that you came all over a jacket and it was now ruined.

“Have you gotten back into therapy?” Woohyun suddenly asked. “I know the younger generation is much more mature about going to it. Is it too expensive now?”

“Seonbae!” Eunha glared.

You shook your head. “I won’t be able to afford therapy at this point.” You whined.

“Why?” Woohyun asked.

“Got stuck with a payment.”

“How much is it? I’ll help you.”

“Oh! Me too, Seonbae!”

“6,408,249 won.”

Woohyun and Eunha stared at you as if you were fucking insane. They both coughed before looking down at their food.

“Uhm sorry.”

“Sorry you’re going through that, Seonbae.”

“Thanks for the other anyway.” You muttered, finally eating your salad that you’ve been poking for over fifteen minutes.

That was the reason you haven’t called Eunjae despite wanting to. You practically hovered over his contact information each night before forcing yourself to bed. Why hasn’t he texted you? Why do you have to be the one to text him?

Was he finally taking to heart that you were the elder in the relationship?

Man, you didn’t care about that anymore.

Well, sort of. You still wish he had some respect for you.

The rest of the day was uneventful as you took the train back to Incheon. You actually made it home before the train got filled to the brim with people. Once you made it to your apartment you almost thought about masturbating again.

But no, you couldn’t keep running away from your future payment.

You were an adult. That meant having to face the consequences of your actions.

You changed into an oversize t-shirt and gym shorts. Your phone was staring at you as you hesitantly grasped it. You scrolled your limited contacts before landing on Eunjae’s. Your finger hovered over his contact before you slowly pressed it, anxiety taking over.

It rang for a few moments. You almost wondered if he wasn’t going to answer until it finally picked up.

“Gangaji…. What took you so long?”

A giggle almost escaped your lips but you managed to stop it by biting your tongue. “It’s Lee (Name).” You said, gotta have some form of self respect. “I wanted to know when I can return your jacket.”

“You can return it now.”

“Huh? But I’m back home in Incheon.”

“I’m in Incheon right now.”

“Huh?”

“I was visiting a friend who lives here. Tell me your address.”

You got ready to refuse, it wasn’t smart to tell a stranger your address. But when your lips parted you ended up telling him your address.

Fucking idiot.

“See you, Gangaji.”

It didn’t take too long for him to knock on your door. You had practically jumped up and ran to open it.

There he was; dressed in a simple t-shirt with baggy jeans. He didn’t even wait for you to invite him in. You almost yelled at him for that until he looked back at you and grinned. Wow, his smile must regularly make girls faint.

“Where’s my jacket?” He asked, causing your body to freeze up.

“Ah uhm. Slight problem, when I attempted to wash it I used bleach and now it’s really ashy in color.” You explained, waiting for him to yell at you and ask for payment.

But he didn’t, he looked amused. Eunjae hummed. “Okay. Lemme see.”

You nodded and went to your room. You grabbed the coat, ready to turn back when you see him entering your room. A gasp left you as you almost jumped out of your skin. Eunjae only grinned before glancing down at his jacket.

“Ah, you really did ruin it.”

You frowned. “Yeah… I know it’s over 6,00,000 won… I can’t pay that right now but I can do it in fragments or something.”

Eunjae only tilted his head. “Why did you wash it anyway?”

“Ah! I got it dirty!”

“How?”

“Ah….”

A sly smirk appeared on his lips as he stepped towards you. You flinched, taking a step back. It continued until your legs bumped against the edge of your bed and you fell down. Eunjae took advantage of that and trapped you down on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your head.

“Tell me. I deserve to know. It was my favorite jacket.”

You gulped. His favorite? Oh for fucks sake.

This was going to be so embarrassing. You clutched the coat to your chest as you closed your eyes, not wanting to look Eunjae in the eye.

“I.. got cum on it.” You whispered.

“What was that?”

“I cummed on it!” You cried out, waiting for the anger.

It was silent for a moment. You opened one eye before glancing up at Eunjae. The sight was shocking to say the least.

He didn’t look angry… he looked almost pleased..?

“Did you, Gangaji? Don’t you know that makes you naughty?” He asked, his right hand moving to grab the jacket. “But you were telling me that I have to speak to you with respect… yet here you are, cumming on my clothes like a pathetic dog.”

You whimpered as he pulled the jacket out of your grasp. He tossed it across the room before leaning down, his nose brushing against yours.

“Did you think of me? Or were you just using it because it was so soft?”

Your cheeks flushed. “A.. a few times..”

“A few times…” Eunjae’s hand trailed down your chest, grasping the edge of your shirt. He roughly pulled it up and forced it into your mouth. A strangled gasp left your lips just as you were about to spit it out when he glared at you. “Keep that between your teeth. You don’t want to act out anymore, do you?”

Eunjae smiled when you bit down on the shirt. His hands gripped your gym shorts, pulling them down without any hesitation. You could only watch as he rubbed his palm against your clothed cock. Your boxers were already tight against your skin but felt even tighter as your cock began to harden.

“Cute. I had so many ideas on how you’ll be but you’re already better than any imagination.” He said.

His palm slowly rubbed your cock. He made no effort to take your boxers off even as you began to whimper. Your hips stuttered from the feeling, wanting to just quickly jerk off. This teasing isn’t something you were used to.

No matter the fact it was another man. Despite yourself, you were thinking about how much of a sin this was. How you were disappointing everyone in your family. You were disgusting in the eyes of God.

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to push the thoughts away.

“(Name).” Eunjae suddenly said. Your eyes opened as you stared up at him. His face was devoid of any emotion as he released his grip on your cock. You could only watch as he reached beneath your shirt. A shriek left your lips when you felt something snap against your skin.

His hand pulled out and in his palm was your cross necklace. You could only watch in awe.

“My poor Gangaji.” Eunjae muttered. You didn’t know if he was actually worried about you or being patronizing. “You’re already broken. That’s no fun.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. “I’ll have to build you back up.” He whispered against your lips. A moan left your lips as his free hand slipped into your boxers, grasping your cock with ease.

He quickly jerked you off, your back arching as the orgasm was immediately building. You were withering and moaning beneath him, grasping at the bedsheets beneath you. The shirt had already left your lips as you couldn’t hold back your whimpers.

Your toes curled as he pressed kisses along your neck. It was different with someone else. You thought you were about to die from the pleasure.

“Cum, Gangaji. Cum for me.”

A loud cry filled the room as you cummed, coating the inside of your boxers. Eunjae pulled his hand out as he pressed it against your lips. You whimpered as he pried your lips open, slipping his fingers into your mouth.

It took a moment before you began sucking on them, cleaning the cum off his fingers. Your cock twitched again. You wanted to cum again.

Eunjae chuckled. “Wow, you’re insatiable, huh?” He asked, grasping your bulge again. You whimpered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He only smirked before rubbing your cock against your boxers. You immediately went into a panting frenzy as he rubbed a quick orgasm out of you. Eunjae hummed, seemingly shocked you came so quick.

“Cute.”

You laid on the bed in a daze, wanting to just sleep. But Eunjae had other ideas as he began to undress you. “Can’t sleep here, you need to bathe.”

A whine left your lips but you didn’t stop him. You felt his arms beneath your body before he hoisted you up.

“Stay awake for me, Gangaji.” He said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Tell me the code to your front door.”

“Hngh… 1004.”

“Angel?” Eunjae laughed. “Cute. You really are cute, Lee (Name). I don’t want to leave you alone for a second.”

You hummed. “Then don’t…”

You must’ve fallen asleep because you woke up hours later alone in your bed. You almost felt disappointed but fought the feeling away. It was okay… At least he wasn’t going to charge you for ruining his jacket.

But you still felt so empty.

Your hand reached up to touch your chest. The cross was gone.

And you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

It had been a week since you last seen Eunjae. You almost felt like you imagined him. But his jacket was still at your house, he never ended up taking it.

You would still rut against it to masturbate. It was still so good. But it never felt the same as when Eunjae jerk you off. You had stopped going to church and seeing your parents.

Though there were nights you cried and prayed to push the thoughts away. In your heart, you knew you were gay. You hadn’t answered your mother’s calls. Even ignoring Yerin and Yena.

You knew that would implode on you one day but at least not today.

You came home from work, ready to collapse on your bed once more.

But you noticed there were moving boxes right outside your door. You gasped, wondering if your landlord was kicking you out or worse! Until you punched in the code. It hadn’t been changed. You slowly pushed it open to see nothing had changed.

Then…

You heard a laugh coming from your spare bedroom. There was nothing in there because you could never afford to buy anything so it was your spare closet. You hesitantly walked over to the door, slowly pushing it open as well.

The room was fully furnished. A small little sofa against the wall. A whole desk with a PC and everything. A few more boxes in the room that possibly haven’t been opened yet.

In the center there was someone in the chair.

Your eyes widen as the person took off their headphones before swirling the chair around.

Moon Eunjae stared at you with a smirk.

“Welcome home, Yeobo. Sorry I took so long, I had to break the lease of my apartment back in Seoul.”

What the fuck?!

Finally!! I got Eunjae’s first chapter! I originally didn’t plan for pet play to be his main kink but realized it suited him a lot. 1004 sounds similar to the Korean word for angel (천사) that’s what Eunjae says “angel.” He isn’t as manipulative in this cuz I gotta set things up but he’s gonna turn insane in later chapters. Also, it’s pronounced Gang-Ah-Ji in case you’re confused.

Also I know Genesis 19:26 isn’t about homosexuality, but my grandma used that against me when I told her that I might be trans to persuade me to stay Cis so that’s why I used it here.

Tag list: @joonggphilia @the-ultimate-librarian @smellwell @tehyunnie @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @euthymiko @kiiyoooo @love-kha1 @remdayz @mello-life25

Translations:

두통 (the title) — headache

다가와. 다가와, 자기야. (Come close. Come close, baby)

내가 너를 유혹하니? (Am I tempting you?)

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아? (You’re so obedient. Don’t you want to taste it?)

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해. (Stop it? Why? I only tell the truth)

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞ (the darkness is being casted slowly)

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞ (i hold my breath under the moonlight)

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (in this sweet darkness, the witching hour descends)

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (take me, the endless witching hour decends)

Songs used: Reveal by The Boyz and Apple by Gfriend

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #male bottom reader #original character

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whos-the-seme · 3 months ago

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Someone should honestly write a "4 Times That Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu Accidentally Acted Like Partners (and 1 Time They Finally Realized It)" thing. That would be so fun.

Here's some of what I got so far, though they're a tad incomplete. Feel free to add on!!!

Sharing a Bed

Shen Qingqiu stumbled into the peak lord meeting right before the starting time, eyes barely even open. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but the slight puffiness of his eyes and the way he was fighting back a yawn signaled to the fact that he might have rolled out of bed barely 5 minutes before.

He ignored the stares that he received as he made his way over and slid into the seat next to Shang Qinghua, groaning. Shang Qinghua raised his eyebrow at him, mildly amused. For once, he was the slightly well-rested one and his friend was the sleep-deprived mess. Despite this, he started pouring a cup of tea for the other.

"Shen-shixiong, did you even sleep properly? You were the one who told me to go home and get more sleep." He finished pouring the tea and passed the cup to his friend, before pouring himself a cup.

Shen Qingqiu groaned even louder at his words but accepted the cup. "I know, I know. I just couldn't get to sleep, though." He took a small sip and sighed in delight. "It's just that your bed is so much more comfortable than mine, so--"

Shang Qinghua, midway through drinking his tea, choked.

Silence.

Absolute silence. Mu Qingfang slowly put down his brush while Qi Qingqi's eyes darted between Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu, a smile spreading on her face.

Shen Qingqiu's slowly turning cog wheels finally realizes what he just said and the people he just said it in front of. Shang Qinghua made a slight wheezing sound.

Yue Qingyuan set down his own teacup, smiling pleasantly. "Shang-shidi's bed?"

"His guest bed!" Shen Qingqiu nearly yells. "I meant to say his guest bed, obviously that's where I sleep when I stay over, where else would I sleep, of course! I sleep in the bed that is not his!"

Shang Qinghua begins to nod his head frantically. "Yes, yes, he sleeps in my guest bed." Noticing the still dangerous glint in Yue Qingyuan's eyes, he begins to wave his hands around as if trying to stave off his impending doom. "N-not that Shen Qingqiu sleeps over often, or anything, ahahaha! It's just a spare bed that I happen to have--"

"I see," Yue Qingyuan interrupts, still smiling. Never before has Shang Qinghua feared for his life like this. He continues cheerfully, "Thank you for the clarification. Why don't we get this meeting started."

2. Robe Mix-Up

Shit! Shen Qingqiu had completely forgotten that he had to teach a morning class and was running late. He might have had too much fun last night reading trashy novels and bitching about them with Shang Qinghua, only to forget his responsibilities to his students. Upon waking and realizing the sun was already up, he nearly shoved Shang Qinghua off the bed trying to get up.

In his hurry to look presentable and still arrive on time, Shen Qingqiu grabbed the nearest outer robe that he could find and slipped it on, while simultaneously trying to fix his hair. Shang Qinghua, the traitor, simply rolled over and muttered something in his sleep, despite the chaos. He rolled his eyes at his best friend, despite the other not being awake to see it.

Finally ready, Shen Qingqiu rushes out of his bamboo house and starts to speed-walk, doing his best to still look majestic and peak lord-like, and not like he was running late to his own class. In his hurry, he doesn't notice the wide-eyed looks he was garnering from the older disciples he passed.

It was only when he steps into the classroom, and the previously hushed whispers and laughter of the teens fall dead silent, that he notices that something is wrong. They all stare at him.

"Good morning, everyone," Shen Qingqiu says pleasantly. No response. What, did he have something on his face or something?? He discreetly wiped at his cheeks, wondering what they were looking at. "Did something happen?"

"Shizun... isn't that...?" Ming Fan hesitantly spoke up, eyeing the blue robes that his teacher was wearing.

Shen Qingqiu followed his disciple's line of sight and looked down.

Ah. An Ding Peak Lord Blue. He must have accidentally grabbed Shang Qinghua's robes when getting dressed this morning.

Wait.

Fuck.

Shen Qingqiu can feel his face freeze.

Another brave disciple spoke up. "A-are those Shang-shishu's--"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says. His eye began to switch.

"But--"

"I said no."

Unfortunately for him, word spread fast, and by midday meal, there were people whispering about the fact that Shen Qingqiu had left his residence wearing Shang Qinghua's robes.

Shang Qinghua tsk'd at him from over the tea table they were taking their lunch at on An Ding Peak. "You just had to take my robe, huh? If you wanted to wear my clothes so bad, you could have just asked." An Ding disciples gawked at them on their way to do errands. One walked into a wooden post.

Shen Qingqiu glared at him, ears still burning red from embarrassment. "Shut up, Qinghua."

#shen qingqiu #svsss #shang qinghua #shen yuan #mxtx svsss #peerless cucumber #airplane shooting towards the sky #misunderstandings #platonic cumplane #queerplatonic cumplane #schrödinger cumplane #5 times plus one compilation #feel free to add on!#the absolute chaos #again it can be platonic or romantic in your eyes #I don't mind either #im always one for queerplatonic cumplane so partner can mean anything #personally to me they are the worst of enemies and the sweetest of lovers

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i-starcreamed · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

#grahhh #i need him so bad #transformers #maccadam #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #d 16 #d16 x reader #transformers d16 #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron transformers #cybertronian reader

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lilacxquartz · 9 months ago

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RIVALS;

satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: you always thought that satoru gojo hated having you as a rival, but after getting to know him, it turned out to be something so much worse.

tags/warnings: abduction/kidnapping, betrayal, rough sex, non-con, yandere, one shot, drugging, kissing — w.c: 1.6k

ao3 • masterlist

In some ways, it was exhilarating.

Being the second best to the strongest, that was.

From the very first day that you enrolled in Jujutsu High, you weren’t quite sure where life would lead you exactly but it certainly wasn’t to where you were now.

Everyday, after all, was an endless pursuit of an achieving both academic and combative excellence. Everyday, you pushed your body and mind above and beyond, seeking out the strength you didn’t know you had. You always assumed that by the end of it all, you would end up as maybe a grade two or even one with your efforts, but to your surprise, you got the recommendation to graduate as a special grade at just eighteen.

Just like him.

However, with every step forward, a creeping exhaustion settled in, dragging you down a path you couldn’t quite handle the journey of. Through the endless training that forced you to keep up with your prestige and the missions that the higher ups threw at you—it didn’t take too long to wear you out—leaving you weary, tired and almost even jaded as a result. Your mental state was one slight push away from the verge of a total collapse.

It was infuriating in some ways because you couldn’t help but compare. You were only human, after all. Sorcerer or not. Being a step below Satoru Gojo soon felt insulting and even though you didn’t consider him to be a rival, it still felt like… a drag, almost. His power was ingrained within him, whereas for you, it was a never ending grind.

It wasn’t quite envy, but you wished it could be easier. If even for a single day.

However, when your graduated classmate seemed to acknowledge your efforts, it technically felt like he appreciated you after all. A validation beyond anything you could dream of; his attention feeling almost intoxicating as he delivered what felt like genuine praise upon your believing ears.

But then it all started to go wrong and you weren’t sure why.

How were you supposed to know however that beneath his easy smile and casually friendly demeanour laid something else beyond what he presented you with? That through your rise to the top, the expectations that followed, he saw you as nothing more than a threat? Another cog to add to the failing machine, a system that he wanted to take down as his own. True, he played the part of a supportive friend, feeding you words to help you feel secure in your success, but there was something darker that lurked beneath his cheery surface.

How were you supposed to know that after he invited you over for coffee, that you’d soon fall asleep from the spiked liquid, only later to wake up with your hands and wrists completely bound?

It was a sickening realisation as you soon understood that behind those friendly words that you thought were spoken in confidence to you as his friend were nothing more than fleeting sweet nothings that he lied into your ears, leading you believe in a version of him that didn’t exist. He had everyone fooled, but especially you, into thinking that he could coexist with his rival.

Tucking you away into a small closet, at least for now, the room felt awfully confining as it housed you. You knew you were in deep trouble, especially as his words now came out cold, unforgiving and almost mocking.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, “I’ll keep you company. I’ll make you feel like the spotlight always stays on you, but unfortunately, nobody else will ever see or hear from you again.”

Quickly stifling your protesting lip that quivered in response, pausing your voice that urged to fight past the horrific situation you had found yourself within, he didn’t let you. Instead, he spoke on your behalf.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated with more emphasis this time, “I’m saving you. Being the strongest shouldn’t be your responsibility to bear alone, that’s why I’m lifting the burden for you.”

And with that he closed the door, watching your trust fade away as the world around you darkened.

But it was for a good cause.

To keep you safe.

Satoru however grew needier and needier the more often he visited you, keeping you all locked up in his room, somehow perfectly bound and unable to leave. It was only a matter of time before he grew curious about you in that sort of way, seeing you as both something to protect as well as demanding stress release from you.

It was so exhausting keeping you as his big secret, after all. You had no idea what he had to go through to keep this all under wraps.

So when he sprawled you out over the bed, it wasn’t as though you didn’t anticipate it after all that he had otherwise done to you, but it still hurt all the same.

You grunted as it happened, taking a hit face down into the mattress; your whole body sinking over the soon crumpled bedding. You tried to fight him off—yet even as strong as you were—it wasn’t enough, even for you.

He pulled you up, raising your hips to meet with his own building excitement before peeling your jeans down and sliding your underwear away too. All he had to was shuffle out of his own clothes, dropping the fabric down to his knees. You couldn’t see a thing as he forced you to face away, but you could feel as his cock pressed against your sex and forcefully slid inside.

It didn’t matter how much you writhed around and begged him to stop, nor how much your legs thrashed or how your hands tried to pull themselves away from his pursuit; he wouldn’t pull away—instead however—he would push forward, again and again and again.

He grabbed at your hips and dug crescents into your skin with his fingernails for stability, wrapping his palms around you as he slammed himself back and forth your soon bruised ass. It felt insulting as he shushed you through your involuntarily whimpers, because what else were you supposed to do… especially in a situation like this?

“Please,” you gasped out.

Yet he never kept giving you the response you wanted, his voice deceptively warm as he spoke behind you, “You have no idea how good you feel.”

He would continue to cut you off with every protest with a praise, yet nothing about how he complimented you felt good at all.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

“You’re so incredible, I knew it was a good thing I kept you around.”

“So good, so good—“

All it would do was make you feel sicker and sicker, somewhat nauseating you as he continued to pound inside your abused cunt. You couldn’t help but feel nauseated, maybe even dizzied from what was happening because you simply couldn’t understand why. If this was the consequence from your academic effort, then you would have never tried to reach for the stars, if it was as bleak as this.

Satoru continued to spear his length into you; his size hurting you as it stretched against your resisting walls. His cock filled you out completely, feeling almost torturous with how he would relieve you from the pressure as he pulled out, only to impale you again, forcing tears to spill out of your eyes when you felt it all happen again.

Each and every single thrust felt rougher than the last, as if he was beginning to lose himself in the sensation. He would bury his hips as far as he could into the cushioning of your ass, chasing the addiction of the release he wanted so goddamn much.

Soon enough however, he flipped you around to your back, taking in the sight of your dishevelled appearance; your messy hair, your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes and both the best and the worst of all, the overall look or hurt and betrayal.

Satoru didn’t give you a warning as he started it all up again, positioning himself in between your legs while maintaining eye contact with you. Those chilling blue eyes were no longer serene, but painful as they bored into yours and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

He moved into you again, wrapping your now tired legs around his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of your surrendered weak state. He lifted you ever so slightly yet again, pushing his cock into your core and melting into you once again.

Satoru was relentless as he pounded into you, bucking his hips feverishly as he chased his almost strained release. The entire time, he wouldn’t break eye contact with you, forcing you to watch as he mercilessly took you again and again. Your insides clenched around him, longing for him to stop but he wasn’t quite ready just yet.

He picked up the pace regardless, shuddering out shaky breaths as he pushed himself to his limit; slowing down with each remaining thrust, yet rutting at a more impactful rhythm. He was close too, he was so fucking close. It was an addictive sight to him after all, to see your body convulse and quiver from him overwhelming you, to watch as you longed for his release too (even if it was for a completely different reason).

Leaning down for both comfort and the rising sensation, he pumped his length forward one last time before going limp. His hips grinded themselves a little more however, attempting to milk himself as much as possible into your shuddering body.

Yet, it didn’t seem to be entirely over as he pulled away from you ever so slightly.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking that this would be the end after he got what he wanted.

As his lips brushed against your ear, you couldn’t help but feel almost frozen from the delusions he whispered forth.

“I’ll promise that I’ll never leave you now,” he assured you, meaning every last word, because after all, there was no greater love than something so sickeningly obsessive as something unrequited.

At least to him.

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desideriumwriter · 9 months ago

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Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was.

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again.

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred.

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands.

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time.

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud.

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

“What? I’ve just what?”

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison.

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head.

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china.

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open.

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards.

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.”

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things.

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?”

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #request #requests

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personapeters · 2 months ago

Text

𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

— a rafe cameron one shot (1 of 2) part one • part two

✰ rafe and barry were on their way back from handling business when they come across someone stuck on the side of the road — that someone being the richest kook in town’s daughter, y/n.

rating: sfw — cw: very suggestive/graphic language

“i don’t give a fuck what he said,” barry grumbled as he leaned back in his seat, “he’s payin’ by tonight or we’re bustin’ his fuckin’ head in, alright?” rafe nodded dismissively, unaffected by the graphic comment as his blue eyes were lazily focused on the road before them, a singular hand resting on the wheel as he steered the old truck. the following moments were silent, only filled with the soft hum of the engine and low buzz from the radio before something — or someone — caught rafe’s eye.

“oh, shit,” he whispered to himself, gradually lifting his foot from the gas as he peered out the dirty window. barry perked up at his utterance and followed his gaze, his eyes landing on a girl in the near distance sat perched on the curb, a hand in her hair as she held a phone to her ear. beside her was a pearly pink bronco, slightly tilted forward on it’s front, right side — flat tire.

“who the fuck is that? you know ‘er?” barry wondered aloud, his dark eyes flickering between rafe and the girl outside. “nah… i mean, yeah, kinda… that’s—uh, she’s grant mason’s daughter,” rafe mumbled, feeling sudden waves of internal conflict wash over him.

he’d seen her insanely expensive car before, perched in the long winding driveway of the mason’s mansion whenever he’d drive past — it was unmistakably of mason property. he’d also seen her face before on a company advert pamphlet in his fathers office: her mother, father, sister, dog and her — a perfect family.

“mason?” barry began with rafe quickly answering his unspoken question, “yeah, mason manufacturing.” barry laughed, a small smile pulling at his lips leaving his his shiny silver tooth on full display, “aw shit, lil’ kook princess done fucked up her ride.”

rafe bit the inside of his lip in a moment of contemplation, unsure of whether he should slam on the gas or the break. a beat passed as the cogs in his brain began to turn before he let out a defeated sigh, abruptly twisting the wheel and averting the truck onto the opposite side of the road.

“aye, fuck're y'doin’? you’re not about to go play bob the fuckin’ builder, are you?” barry gripped, sitting up in his seat with thick, furrowed brows. “relax,” rafe reasoned in annoyance, “i know what i’m doin’.”

and that, he did — rafe wasn’t one to do favors for people, especially for someone he doesn’t know, but this time was different. he’s learned over time to always keep your friends close and your potential assets closer; the daughter of the grant mason was simply a door he needed opened to fully set foot inside — to give himself and his father an upper hand.

barry scoffed and leaned back in his seat once more, resting an elbow on the passenger door before resting his forehead in his hand. “right — know what y’doin’ like y’always do,” barry muttered dismissively, “jus’ make it quick.”

“could go faster if you helped, y’know,” rafe murmured sarcastically, causing barry to let out an even more sarcastic laugh, saying, “yeah, ain’t shit in that for me, country club — you got it.”

and with that, rafe begrudgingly exited the truck with a light slam of the door, preparing himself to feign the fakest, most well-rounded persona he possibly could in order to make, what would hopefully be, a lasting impression.

the girl on the curb’s head perked up at the sudden noise, her eyes slightly widening at the stranger rapidly approaching. rafe noticed, forcing a smile across his face before speaking. “hey! you alright?” he asked as ‘warmly’ as he could, jogging across the road before stopping a mere few feet away.

“uh, hi — yeah, i’m good, i just— i got a flat,” she explained bashfully with a smile, gesturing to the leaning bronco. it was immediately evident to him that photos simply didn’t do her justice, the sight of her alone unexpectedly making his stomach do a flip, taking him by surprise.

“ah, that sucks,” rafe forcefully sympathized, “y’got a spare, right? i could change it for you.” her face lit up at the proposition, and she quickly mutter a few words into the phone before hanging up and shoving it in her pocket, quickly standing and dusting off the back of her denim shorts.

“would you really?” she beamed, her hopeful eyes glistening as she gazed at him. rafe nodded, his blue ones scanning over her face as he felt a weird stitch of something in his chest. “yeah, it’s no problem — i’ve got some tools in my truck,” he assured, motioning behind him.

“thank you so much,” she breathed out in relief, abruptly holding out a small, manicured hand in his direction, “i’m y/n.” rafe was taken aback by the sudden gesture, reluctantly encasing her palm with his own — her’s was soft, undoubtably the softest he’s ever felt.

“rafe…” he reciprocated before remembering the entire purpose of this interaction, “cameron — rafe cameron.” her brows furrowed, the name tumbling through her mind before realizing it was rather familiar.

“like, cameron development?” she wondered aloud, her hand still absentmindedly resting in his, though rafe was all too aware of it. “uh—yeah, yeah, m’ward cameron’s son,” he muttered, feeling almost awkward at the prolonged contact.

“no way! i’m grant mason’s daughter — our dad’s are friends!” she gasped, and rafe almost scoffed bitterly at the loose, frankly false, title — friends? sure.

“really? small island,” rafe forcibly laughed, internally puking at the sound of his own voice and the cliches he was spewing, and y/n replied with a sweet, “yeah!”

“hey, so, i’mma go get some stuff from my truck so we can get you back on the road, yeah?” he offered, pulling his hand from hers and pointing a thumb behind him. “yeah, okay, thank you again,” she called out as he spun on his heels before briskly crossing the road.

“yo, you trynna hit that or what? what’s with all that chummy shit?” barry snickered as rafe approached the truck, having overheard the entire conversation. “shut up,” rafe groaned, completely unamused as he reached into the bed, fishing around before retrieving a rusty jack and lug wrench in either hand.

“can’t lie, she kinda fine,” barry projected, ensuring rafe could hear him from outside. “she can probably hear you,” the taller man muttered in annoyance. “shit, let her,” barry exclaimed carelessly, “if you don’t tap that, i will.”

“look, can you just—just chill out for like ten minutes? i’m changin’ her fuckin’ tire then we’re goin’, alright?” rafe snapped in agitation, now standing by the car door and of course, the other man only found it comical. “alright — whatever you say, babyboy,” barry mused, feigning surrender with a sly grin before rafe trudged his way back across the road.

“hi,” y/n grinned, her arms crossed lightly over her chest as she ceased absentmindedly twisting her shoe in the dirt. “hey,” rafe reciprocated, tossing the jack onto the concrete with a loud clank, “i’ll get the tire.” y/n nodded, watching as he took the wrench to the back of the car and began twisting at the lugnuts before casually joining him there.

“so, how long have you guys lived here?” she questioned sweetly as she leaned against the bumper, attempting to make conversation as if he wasn’t preoccupied. rafe peered down at her out the corner of his eye, a twinge of annoyance sparking in his chest that was somehow extinguished when he noticed the small smile on her lips as she gazed at him expectantly.

“uh, m’whole life,” he grunted as he twisted at a rather difficult fastener, “you? never seen you ’round before.”

“i’ve only been here a a couple months, actually — we move alot for dad’s work so we’re never really in once place for long,” she explained, distant sadness evident in her tone. “yeah? you likin’ it so far?” rafe asked as he pulled the tire down with ease, finding himself to actually be somewhat interested in the answer.

“uhm—yeah, yeah, it’s nice. i mean, m’always going back home to visit and haven’t been anywhere on the island besides the elementary school,” she explained. “s’that where you were headed?” rafe wondered as he rolled the heavy wheel towards the front of the car, y/n following close behind.

“yeah, i was going to get my sister before the tire busted — was calling the school to let them know i’d be, like, really late,” she sighed. “your dad couldn’t get her?” rafe questioned, admittedly asking a question that may have been a little intrusive. "i— uh, no,” she laughed awkwardly, tucking a loose strand behind her ear as he began to crank the jack, “he’s always so busy.”

“and your mom?” rafe breathed out as he stood to his feet, dusting his hands on his pants before wiping the sweat from his forehead. y/n couldn’t help but shamelessly ogle at his biceps as they flexed with each movement, her eyes flickering up and down the length of his tanned arms in awe.

“she’s— uh, she’s pretty busy, too,” y/n shrugged, her small smile faltering — this piqued rafe’s interest. “yeah? what does she do?” he asked casually, playing off his prying as casual conversation as he began to remove the damaged wheel from the car.

“she used to be an accountant,” y/n murmured, staring off into space down the road, watching as a car drove by. “used to?” rafe chimed in, rolling the busted tire into the grass before beginning to mount the new one.

“yeah, before my sister was born,” she affirmed.

“what’s she doin’ now?”

“she’s retired,” y/n muttered, causing rafe to furrow his brows to himself — retired mother who’s somehow too busy to pick her kid up from school?

“she-uh… she drinks sometimes,” y/n answered quickly, having noticed the expression on his face, “she’s usually too hungover in the mornings to drive… and afternoons.”

hardly a moment passed as rafe was processing her words while simultaneously fastening on lug-nuts before she spoke up again. “i— i’m sorry,” she laughed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally kicked herself, “i’m absolutely oversharing.”

“no,” rafe promised casually with a shrug, fastening the last bolt in it’s place, “i asked.” it was a simple statement, though it sent a wave of warmth throughout her chest, the simplicity of reassurance being comforting and seldom.

“what about you?” she asked as he began to lower the car back to the ground, the new tire now in place. “what about me?” rafe rebutted, standing to his feet once more with a huff, the beaming sun beginning to take a toll.

“i— i just mean… what’s your family like?”

“uhh, well, my dad runs a business, and-uh, got a step-mom ‘n two sisters,” rafe explained, though he was never fond of talking about himself or his family.

suddenly, a loud honk sounded out from across the street, causing them both to turn their heads towards the source. “aye, country club, let’s go!” barry called out, rafe’s good deed of the year being noticeably completed and his patience having worn thin.

“whose that?” y/n wondered, a small smile pulling at her lips when rafe sighed in annoyance and ran a hand down his face. “he’s my-uh… friend,” rafe answered, though truthfully, he’s wasn’t sure he’d call him that.

“i think your friend is ready to leave,” she laughed lightly, rafe nodding in agreement as his eyes then found their way to hers, suddenly finding themselves stuck there. she didn’t notice until then just how blue his eyes were, nor did he notice how big and doe-like her’s were. seconds passed that felt like minutes, neither of them in any position to break the eye contact for a reason they couldn’t explain.

inevitably, the horn was honked again and jolted them both from the stalemate, causing rafe to cough before scratching his neck. “uh, so, i’m gonna get going,” he announced, grabbing his tools from their places on the curb, “tire’s all good ‘n i can get rid of the old one if y’want.”

“thank you, rafe — seriously, it means so much,” y/n sighed out, eyes glistening with gratitude and rafe’s stomach did that same, stupid little flip as before when she said his name and he wanted it to fucking stop.

“yeah, no worries,” rafe grinned, though he tried to hide it, actually feeling somewhat good about himself, “you should-uh… probably head out, too, yeah?”

“shit, yeah,” y/n swore, quickly pulling her phone from her pocket and checking the time, “hey, so-uh, my dad’s having a little business dinner type-thing next weekend — food ‘n music and all that if you, maybe, wanted to come?”

rafe froze at the mention as he recalled a conversation with his father from not too long ago. they had spoke about that very event, rafe wanting to accompany his father in order to learn more about the mason’s business, though his wish was denied due to ward only being allowed to bring one guest — his choice being his wife, rose.

“i’m— i’m sorry, you don’t have to, i just figured as like a ‘thank you’ i’d—,” y/n rambled, feeling as though rafe’s lack of response and blank stare was an answer within itself, but he quickly interrupted.

“nah, nah, i’ll—,” he paused, blue eyes flickering across her now hopeful face, his heart doing a little skip at the sight, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

“awesome, yeah, here — put your number in, i’ll text you the details,” she smiled, handing her phone over to who rafe dropped his tools to the ground before accepting it. their hands grazed one another for a moment, somehow feeling different from the first time they touched.

he obliged, quickly typing in the digits and saving the contact before handing it back. “cool, so, i’ll see you then?” she smiled, watching at rafe gathered the tools from the ground once more. “yeah,” rafe nodded, quickly swiping his tongue over his lips before a soft smirk overtook them, “unless i find you on the curb with another flat before then.”

“with my luck,” she laughed, and rafe couldn’t help but let out a soft, genuine, chuckle. “thank you again,” she continued, her tone sincere, and rafe could tell just how genuine it was, giving her a small nod in return, “i’ll see you.”

and with that, she climbed her way into the ridiculously large car, giving rafe one last glance with a smile before disappearing down the corner and around the bend. rafe finished loading everything back into the truck, including the flat wheel that he planned on abandoning in some unfortunate pogues yard, before rejoining barry inside.

“the fuck’re you so happy about?” barry mumbled, loathing the fact that after waiting in a hot truck for ages, rafe comes waltzing in with a grin.

“told’ya i know what i’m doin’.”

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