#Oh and that moment in chapter 29

[stylesispunk]

"Whatever you'd like us to be" | part 1

harry castillo (materialists) x sunshine! reader

series masterlist | next chapter

Summary: the one where you met this incredible, charming man at your best friend's wedding.

w.c: 9,3k.

warnings: age gap (reader is 29-30 and harry 47), mentions of puke, and fluff. (Not angst, shocking)

A/N: This chapter comes out two days later than intended becuase I deleted it by mistake so it's all rewritten. Okay, I wanted to put all the stuff that you can find in a rom-com and It probably came out as a little lame, cringy. It made me want to vomit. If you don't like it, move on, but if you do, please tell me what you think. Also, I may have lied a bit in the summary I shared weeks ago👀 (I rewatched 13 going 30 and I got "Crazy for you" by madonna stuck in my head).

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Self-proclaimed, a hopeless romantic. That’s how you would define your way too much overthinker heart, mind, body and soul. As a whole. Yes, still completely indulging your life from being the little girl dreaming about the handsome charming prince that would come to save you to the full growing adult, still spending her time overindulging in the rom-com fantasy.

How wouldn’t you?

You were practically living in a romantic comedy. Just… not the starring role.

All over again.

You had witnessed your all your group of friends meeting stranger and becoming each’s others world. How they stumbled into other people in that oh-so-whimsical way, fall in love, have the inevitable argument that had leave them screaming into their pillows the moment their bodies hit their bed, followed by the questions and the “yes, I do” walking into the happily ever after.

You were still waiting so patiently for the love to fall into your feet like it did back in those movies. That the right person would knock up your world in the most unexpected way, when you least expected it.

At least that is what people had told you, out of pity, out of a terribly cruel joke. And of course, you kept smiling. It was always there, in your mind. Scanning around room of possible candidates, who out of these people could be the love of your life?

In movies, love had always found a way to look like the key needed to fix everybody’s problems. The mere touch of another’s hands, or having an eye to catch across a crowded room would be enough to make turmoil’s ease, to make your heart burst and make your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

Which made you cliché. Hopelessly, irrevocably cliché.

Because now, here you were.

At your best friend’s wedding.

She looked unfairly beautiful, practically glowing in a white-laced dress that her now-husband had insisted on paying for. You’d been there for all of it — the dress shopping, the cake tastings, the flower debates that nearly ended friendships. You’d held her hair back when she drank too much at the bachelorette party and sobbed about how she didn’t feel like herself anymore.

And you were genuinely, truly happy for her.

But as you sat alone at the table, watching her sway under the fairy lights with her new husband, something tight settled in your chest. A quiet, persistent ache.

Because now you were the last one.

Your little circle of childhood friends, the five of you who used to swear you’d grow old together, drinking cheap wine on Friday nights and complaining about your disastrous dating lives — one by one, they’d all paired off. Two of them pregnant, one already discussing baby names and nursery colors like it was the most natural thing in the world. Another one had just bought a house with her boyfriend, some fixer-upper they were documenting on Instagram like it was a home renovation series on a streaming platform.

And you?

You were still the one ordering takeout for one. The one picking movies no one else wanted to see. The one looking for a sign, a spark, a stranger’s glance across a crowded room.

Claire looked heartbreakingly beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made your chest ache in that sharp, bittersweet way. The lights from the chandelier above cast a warm glow over her, catching in the delicate beading of her dress as she swayed with Chris, her new husband, to some old love song you didn’t quite catch the name of.

They were laughing — that soft, private kind of laugh shared between two people in a world of their own — and you felt your throat tighten.

God, you were such a sap.

You hadn’t even noticed the tears gathering in your eyes until you blinked, and one threatened to slip free. You caught it with the pad of your finger before it could ruin your mascara. It wasn’t jealousy, not really. It wasn’t even loneliness. It was… longing. A longing for a moment like that. To be someone’s person. To have your own first dance, your own secret laughs beneath fairy lights straight out a movie.

And then, as if she could feel it, Claire’s gaze lifted, cutting across the room, and landed on you.

Her eyes softened, the kind of look that made you feel sixteen again, sneaking out of her bedroom window in the middle of the night, promising you’d never let some boy come between the both of you. She gave you a wink, wide and mischievous and so her, and then that wide, brilliant smile bloomed across her face.

You smiled back, the tears spilling over now, though you doubted anyone could tell in the dim light. In that moment, you were so damn happy for her you thought your heart might burst.

But as the song slowed, and the couples began to fill the floor around them, you felt that ache settle deep in your ribs. That quiet reminder.

You were the one still waiting.

The clinking of glass against silverware broke through the hum of the ongoing conversations, and a chorus of “Speech! Speech!” rose from the tables. Claire shot you a look, that go on, it’s your turn look, and your stomach immediately flipped.

Right. Your maid of honor duties.

You took a steadying breath, grabbing your champagne glass and rising to your feet, the sudden attention of the room making your skin prickle. Claire was watching you, eyes gleaming, her hand curled tight around Chris’s. God, she looked so happy.

You cleared your throat and gave a small, sheepish smile.

“Well,” you started, your voice a little shaky at first but finding its footing, “I was told to keep this short… but then Claire also told me to pick a dress I’d feel ‘comfortable’ in and look at me now.”

The room chuckled, and you felt yourself relax a little.

“I’ve known Claire since we were around eight years old. She was the new kid next to my house in my neighborhood, and I was the bossy little girl who made her promise that she liked dogs and Titanic, or else we couldn’t be friends.”

Another soft ripple of laughter.

“And you know what? She did. And from that day on, we became thick as thieves, inseparables. She’s been my person ever since. My partner in crime. The voice of reason when I’m about to make a terrible decision or at least, the one holding my hair back while I make it anyway. The one who had always had my back, the one who had watched me shine and I’ve been watching her shine too. Just as this very same moment, where she is lighting up this room entirely by herself.”

Claire laughed a little into her glass, tears shining in her eyes.

You glanced down at your notes, but they suddenly felt useless. All these words were coming straight out from your heart anyway.

“I’ve watched this woman survive terrible boyfriends, bad haircuts, quarter-life crises, and Sunday hangovers. I’ve seen her fall down and get back up more times than I can count. And then, one day, this guy” you gestured toward Chris, who grinned like an idiot, “walked in and… he just stole her from me because he stole her so beautiful heart. He made her laugh in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time.”

Your throat tightened, but you pushed through it.

“I think we spend a lot of our lives searching for someone who feels like home, that feels like you are stepping right into the daylight in a cold winter day, and watching you two, it’s pretty clear you’ve found yours.”

Claire was fully crying now, mascara be damned, and it made your own tears sting again.

“I love you both, so much. And I know there’s no one else I’d rather see steal her from our Friday wine nights and chick flick marathons.”

You raised your glass, your voice soft.

“To Claire and Chris. May your life be filled with belly laughs, and that kind of love that feels like being sunbathed in winter.”

The room lifted their glasses in a chorus of agreement.

You caught Claire’s glassy-eyed smile one more time before you sat down, heart pounding against your ribs. A warm buzz of applause followed you, and you felt yourself flush under the attention, but it faded as the music picked back up, and people returned to their conversations, laughter filling the room.

And that’s when you felt the gaze of someone over you. Leaning against the bar.

One of Chris’s groomsmen. You’d seen him earlier, lingering at the edge of the group photos, dodging the eager wedding planner who kept trying to wrangle everyone into neat lines. He wasn’t like Chris’s other friends, younger, loud, glued to their phones and betting on who’d get lucky tonight.

He was older than the rest of Chris’s friends. You guessed mid-forties, maybe a little more. Salt-and-pepper hair, streaked silver at the temples in a way that made your so ever hopeless romantic brain short-circuit a little. His suit jacket fitting the right place, and his tie loose around his neck. He nursed a glass of something dark in his hand, he was smiling widely, and there was something about the way his mouth curved at the corner that made your stomach do a quiet little somersault.

Because he was still looking at you.

Not staring. Not the sleazy, lingering kind of look you were far too used to dodging at weddings.

Like he had seen something.

Like maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d felt your whole life.

You quickly looked away, heat blooming up your neck.

God, you felt ridiculous.

You grabbed your phone from the table, pretending to check a message you knew wasn’t there. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you started typing something into your note’s app, a silly habit of yours when emotions threatened to spill over.

“Is it pathetic to hope for a meet-cute at someone else’s wedding? Asking for a friend.”

You dropped the phone face down on the table, the soft hum of conversation blending with the strains of an old love song floating from the speakers. Some of the guests were coupling off on the dance floor again, swaying under the canopy of string lights, the whole room glowing in that amber, too-perfect, makes-your-heart-ache kind of way.

Your gaze wandered and landed on your parents, just a little way from Claire and Chris. Your mom's head resting against your dad's shoulder as they moved together, slowly, like the whole world outside this song didn’t exist. Your dad leaned in, murmured something, and your mom let out that small, breathy laugh you knew by heart, the one that meant she was still hopelessly in love with him after all these years.

It made your chest tighten in a way that was both painful and sweet. You rested your chin on your arm, propped up on the table, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched them.

And then, a tap on your bare shoulder.

You startled a little, blinking as you turned, and there he was.

The groomsman.

Up close, the salt-and-pepper was even better, the kind of hairstyle you only thought existed in movies. He had fine lines around his eyes, the kind people got from all the laughing, and a half-crooked, easy smile that did something absolutely unforgivable to your stomach.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm, a little rough at the edges. “Mind if I sit?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how direct it was, and gave a little laugh before gesturing to the chair beside you. “Not at all. Unless you’re looking for a table with a better company, in which case… terrible choice.”

He chuckled, setting his drink down and sliding into the chair, leaning back with that unbothered confidence of someone perfectly at ease in their own skin.

“I would really like to have your company,” he said, tipping his head toward the dance floor. “Figured it was time to come here and talk.”

The air between you crackled, just a little, in a way that made you hyper-aware of how close he was now. How the room seemed to blur at the edges.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he offered, holding out a hand.

You took it. Warm, calloused, and it lingered just a second longer than strictly necessary.

You gave him your name, and he repeated it back in a way that made it sound better than you’d ever heard it before.

You bit your lip, fighting a grin. “You’re one of Chris’s friends, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. From work

There was a beat of quiet, not awkward, at all, but that kind of silence that could lead to new things, like a thread tugging between you both.

Then Harry tipped his head toward the dance floor, smirking. “So… are you one of those ‘leave before dessert’ types, or would you like to dance with me?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

And then you smiled. A real one. Maybe, just maybe, the hopeless romantic in you had been waiting for this moment all along.

“I guess that depends,” you teased, setting your glass down and standing, “do you lead or follow?”

Harry chuckled, rising to his feet. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And as his hand slid into yours again, leading you toward the floor beneath the warm glow of fairy lights, you felt that old ache loosen its grip.

The opening notes of “Crazy for you” by Madonna starting drifting through the speakers

Swaying room as the music starts

Strangers making the most of the dark

Two by two, their bodies become one

It was already making memories out of moments you didn’t know you were making.

I see you through the smokey air

Can't you feel the weight of my stare?

You're so close but still a world away

The air shifted.

Not dramatically, not with some cinematography hush, but enough that your chest tightened and your eyes stung in that way they did when something beautiful caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting that song, weren’t expecting this, any of it.

Harry’s hand in yours tightened and he smiled when he caught the look on your face, those amber-flecked eyes crinkling at his, a small, knowing thing.

“You look quite adorable now, you know?” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the soft thrum of the music and the buzz of other voices.

You felt yourself blush, your stomach flipping like you were sixteen again and someone had just scribbled do you like me? yes or no on a napkin.

“I do not,” you laughed under your breath, trying to play it cool, though your face was already giving you away.

Harry only grinned wider, tugging you a little closer as you reached the edge of the dance floor. “Yeah, you do,” he said softly. “But it makes you look even more beautiful.”

I'm crazy for you

Touch me once and you'll know it's true

I never wanted anyone like this

It's all brand new

You'll feel it in my kiss

I'm crazy for you

Crazy for you

The song wrapped around you both as he rested a careful hand at your waist, your other hand finding his shoulder. It wasn’t a crowded floor anymore, the couples left were mostly the older ones, swaying to memories of their own.

And there you were.

Slowly, you began to move.

Trying hard to control my heart

I walk over to where you are

Eye to eye, we need no words at all

The world shrank to the sound of the song, the warmth of his hand, and the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing worth noticing in the room.

“I love this song,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above the music.

Harry smirked, leaning in a little. “Of course, you do.”

You arched a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed, low and genuine. “It means you have good taste. And maybe… you’re a bit of the romantic type.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

The moment lingered, that good kind of quiet stretching between you.

Then, softer, almost shy, which you didn’t expect from him, Harry asked, “So… what took you so long to come say hi?”

You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Touché.”

And then you were both grinning again, like two people who’d known each other for more than just the length of a wedding reception.

I'm crazy for you

Touch me once and you'll know it's true

I never wanted anyone like this

It's all brand new

You'll feel it in my kiss

You let yourself lean into it, into him, into the warmth of the room and the simple sweetness of being wanted. No rush, no pressure. Just the music, his hand on your back, the soft shuffle of your feet in time.

Harry's thumb traced a lazy circle against your waist. He smelled like warm spice and something clean, and his hair fell into his eyes when he dipped his head to look at you.

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” he murmured, like it was some kind of secrecy.

You tilted your head. “To dancing?”

“To this,” he gestured vaguely between you both, lips quirking up. “I don’t usually… I mean, I’m not good at this kind of thing. Not since…”

His words trailed off, but you understood. You weren’t exactly a champion at it either. All the near-misses and unspoken things you’d tucked away over the years, waiting for a night like this, a person who, perhaps looked like the one.

“I’m glad you did,” you said, meaning it more than you expected.

He smiled again, that softer one, the one that made his eyes crinkle and your stomach flip.

“I’m crazy for you…” Madonna crooned, and you both chuckled at the timing.

“Bit on the nose, huh?” you teased.

Harry leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m a bit of a romantic too.”

That earned a grin from you. And without really thinking about it, you rested your head lightly against his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. In fact, his hand tightened at your back, and he let out a breath, like maybe he’d been waiting for this too.

The song carried on, wrapping you both in a haze of something golden and bittersweet. The room around you blurred. You didn’t notice the servers’ clearing glasses, the other couples slowly shuffling off the floor. It was just you and him and the words of a song older than both of you.

When the last few notes played out, neither of you moved right away.

You stayed there, his chin resting lightly against your temple, your hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

And then, quietly

“Can I see you after this?” he asked, his voice low and unsure in a way that made your heart ache a little.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm and a little nervous and completely open.

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Harry smiled, and it was that same grin from earlier, the one you realized you’d already grown stupidly fond of.

“I should—” His words faltered, his gaze shifting over your shoulder, his expression flickering. Something tightened in his jaw. You followed his line of sight before you could stop yourself.

A woman stood a few feet away, near the bar, a vision in a deep blue dress that shimmered under the glow of the lights. She was stunning, the kind of woman who didn’t just enter a room, she owned it. Waves of dark hair, a tilt of her head like she knew exactly how she looked and how it made people feel. And you knew her. Not well, but enough.

Lucy.

She was the one who’d introduced Claire and Chris. A friend of a friend, always on the fringe of your social circles, always a little too cool, a little too knowing.

The ache in your stomach came so fast it almost made you dizzy.

You didn’t ask Harry anything. Didn’t need to. The way his posture changed, the way something soft in his face shuttered when he looked at her, you already knew.

And then, as if sensing the shift in you too, his eyes found yours again.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, voice rough. “She’s… well, she’s my ex.”

There it was. Like a thread snapping. The warm, golden haze of the moment instantly clouded over.

You tried to keep your face even, but you knew, and your disappointment showed it. Because suddenly, every word he’d said, every touch, every smile felt suspect. A well-placed scene meant for someone else to see.

You swallowed hard and forced a small smile, stepping back.

“I should… I’m gonna go check on Claire,” you said, voice breezy, pretending like your stomach hadn’t just dropped.

Harry opened his mouth, maybe to stop you, maybe to explain, but you were already turning, weaving through the bodies on the dance floor.

The fairy lights didn’t feel so warm anymore. The music blurred, background noise to the rush of your pulse in your ears.

You didn’t look back at him.

Instead, you made your way toward the patio doors, needing air, or space, or just distance from the way your chest felt too tight. Leaning against the cool railing outside, you focused on the string lights overhead and the muffled bass of songs still playing inside, the last notes lingering like a memory you’d already lost.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice teased behind you.

You turned to find Claire grinning, two glasses of champagne in her hands. She passed you one before settling beside you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What was that all about with Harry?” she asked, nudging your arm. “Are you two lovers or something now?”

You snorted, the sound a little rougher than you meant it to be, taking a sip of the champagne to buy yourself a second.

“God, Claire,” you said, trying for lightness. “No. We’re not… it’s not like that.”

She raised a brow. “Could’ve fooled me. The way he was looking at you? And you were looking back? Come on, if that wasn’t ‘we’re about to kiss and possibly leave this party together’ energy, I don’t know what is.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping a little as you stared down at the bubbles in your glass.

“It… it felt nice,” you admitted. “But then…”

Claire’s teasing expression faded into something softer.

“Then what?”

You hesitated. It sounded petty, it sounded stupid when said out loud, but you needed to get it out.

“His ex is here,” you said quietly. “Lucy.”

Claire’s brows shot up. “Lucy Lucy? As in my matchmaker Lucy who introduced me to Chris?”

You managed a small, sad smile. “Yeah. That Lucy.”

Claire let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t know they dated.”

“Neither did I. And when he saw her… it just… I don’t know, Claire. It felt like maybe everything tonight was for show. For her.”

You hated how small your voice sounded at the end.

Claire set her glass down on the railing and turned to face you fully, her face fierce now in the way only best friends get when someone’s hurt you.

“Okay, first of all, Harry is not like the type to do that. And second, even if it started like that, it sure as hell wasn’t about her by the time, he was holding your hand on that dance floor.”

You gave her a look, but she only crossed her arms.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me,” Claire said, “but I know what I saw. And what I saw was a man completely blindsided by you.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, hope and ache and wariness all tangled up.

“Maybe,” you murmured. “But I don’t know if I have it in me to be someone’s revenge plot, Claire.”

Claire softened, looping her arm through yours.

“You’re nobody’s second choice, okay? If he wants a chance, he better prove it.”

You leaned your head against her shoulder.

“Always. Now, do we stay out here and talk shit, or do we finish our champagne and crash the open bar?”

You laughed, for real this time.

“Option two, obviously.”

And that was how the night blurred in that perfect, tipsy way weddings sometimes do, a little hazy around the edges but warm in the middle. You and Claire did crash the open bar, and somewhere between your third stolen cocktail and a disastrous attempt at the Cha Cha Slide, you laughed so hard you thought you might actually pull a muscle.

Claire kept up a steady stream of hilarious commentary about guests’ outfits, especially the guy who looked like a knock-off James Bond and the woman whose hat could double as satellite reception. Chris eventually joined you both, rolling his eyes but grinning like a man who knew better than to interfere with you two in full chaotic mode.

By the time the fairy lights were dimming and the last slow song played, you were clinging to both Claire and Chris, arms looped around their shoulders as the three of you swayed slightly in your own little goodbye moment.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” you slurred with a grin, poking Chris in the chest. “Like… offensively so. Ugh.”

Chris chuckled. “And you, my dear, are going to feel this in the morning.”

“Worth it,” you declared dramatically, tightening your hold on Claire. “Best wedding date ever.”

Claire snorted. “You didn’t even come with a date.”

“Exactly.” You winked. “No one to babysit me. Freedom.”

She grinned, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I love you, you idiot.”

“Love you more, bridezilla.”

You hugged Chris too, and as you finally stepped back, Claire grabbed your hand.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“You’re both are going to be busy on your wedding night to worry about me, I’ll handle it.”

but she just raised a knowing brow.

“Okay, I Promise I’ll text you.”

You blow a kiss to her, stepping out into the night, the cool air brushing against your flushed skin, making you shiver just a little. The sounds of the wedding faded behind you, muffled laughter, a distant swell of music. and you pulled out your phone, squinting at the screen as you opened your ride app.

God, your head was fuzzy. The good kind. The kind where everything felt slightly tilted but softer somehow.

You were fumbling with your screen brightness when the sound of a car window rolling down made you glance up. A sleek, black car had pulled up by the curb. Not the kind you called on an app, this was the kind of car with tinted windows, polished within an inch of its life, and a driver in a suit behind the wheel. And sitting in the backseat, one elbow resting casually on the window frame, was Harry.

His tie was nowhere to see now, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair a little messier than earlier. His expression was… unreadable. Cautious, maybe. Hopeful. A little drunk himself.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like the night wasn’t quite done with you both.

You blinked at him, caught off guard again, and your heart did that stupid thing, skipping when it shouldn’t.

“Hey,” you echoed, half a smirk on your lips despite yourself. “Fancy car.”

He shrugged, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth, his gaze flicked over you, softer now, “I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted a ride.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, shaking your head with a small, wry laugh. “Harry…”

“I swear it’s not what you think,” he cut in quickly, leaning out a little. “About her. About all of it. I saw her and yeah, it threw me. But tonight… you? That wasn’t about her. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t even know she’d be here.”

You stared at him, your mind a mess of champagne bubbles and the ache of old disappointments, but also that tiny, traitorous spark of wanting to believe him.

“I’m not great at this,” Harry added, softer now, the grin dropping.

And there it was.

That vulnerable, bare thing hanging between you both.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he went on. “I just… didn’t wanna leave it like that.”

You let out a long breath, looking up at the sky for a beat, then back at him.

“Where’s this thing headed?” you asked, jerking your chin toward the car.

Harry’s grin came back, slow and hopeful. “Anywhere you want.”

Without another word, you walked around the car and slipped into the seat beside him. The interior smelled like leather and expensive cologne, and it was too warm in that way that made you a little sleepier, a little braver.

The driver glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

“What’s your address, miss?”

You turned to Harry, a teasing smirk curling on your lips.

“I want French fries,” you declared, pouting a little, like it was the most reasonable answer in the world.

Harry blinked — then laughed. A real, rough-edged laugh that made something stupid and soft twist in your chest.

The driver looked between the two of you, a little uncertain.

“Mine,” Harry told him, voice easy but eyes on you, like he was making sure you were okay with it.

Harry huffed a laugh, leaning his head back against the seat for a second before turning toward you, one brow raised.

“Your house is made of fries?”

“I mean… no,” he grinned, “but now I’m wishing it was. Missed opportunity.”

You shrugged, leaning a little closer, tipsy boldness settling in your bones.

“Bit misleading, don’t you think? You promise me fries, take me to your place, and what? No fries? That’s emotional manipulation, Harry.”

He grinned wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made your stomach flip, and he squeezed your hand where it still rested between you both.

“Alright, alright. Fries first. House later,” he promised, turning to the driver.

“Can you swing by that 24-hour diner close to mine?”

The driver nodded without missing a beat “Sure, sir.”

You beamed, victorious.

Harry looked at you like you hung the damn stars in the sky.

“Anything else, your highness? Milkshake? Nuggets? Entire dessert menu?”

You smirked, pretending to think it over.

“Surprise me.”

You didn’t even remember closing your eyes. One second you were leaning your head back against the seat, listening to Harry’s voice teasing the drive about you, and the next thing you knew, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was soft, rough with amusement. “Sleeping Beauty. We’re here.”

You blinked your eyes open, disoriented by warmth and the quiet hum of the city outside. Harry’s face was close, and for a second you just stared at him, tousled hair, soft grin, eyes like the warmest kind of trouble.

Before your brain could catch up to your mouth, you blurted, “You’re really handsome, Harry Styles.”

Harry blinked, then let out a surprised, breathy laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“My last name is Castillo.” He grinned, raising a brow at you.

You let out a sleepy, tipsy giggle, leaning your head against the seat again.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, eyes half-lidded, “you’re even more handsome now.”

He smiled at that, not a cocky smirk, but a soft, heart-twisting curve of his lips. The kind of smile someone saves for moments that matter.

“Come on, trouble,” he murmured, holding out a paper bag. “Got your fries.”

There was something so endearing about you, something he hadn’t quite expected. You didn’t posture, didn’t play at being hard to get or effortlessly untouchable like so many others in his world. There was a simplicity to you, not plain, not ordinary, but honest. Soft edges and sharp wit. A way you laughed with your whole face and said exactly what you meant, even if it came out half-asleep in the back of a car.

To his eyes, you were sunlight at golden hour. The hum of an old record player on a quiet Sunday. The warmth of fries after midnight. The kind of beautiful that didn’t ask to be noticed, and because of that, somehow, you were impossible to look away from.

And as you took the bag from his hand and peeked inside like it was a treasure chest, your sleepy grin making his heart trip over itself.

The elevator ride up to his apartment was quiet, save for the crinkle of the paper bag in your hands and your content little hums with every fry you pulled out. Harry kept sneaking glances at you, waiting, maybe even bracing, for the inevitable reaction.

People always reacted.

The first time Lucy had stepped inside, she’d gasped, breathy Oh my god, Harry, her eyes darting to the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city like it was some priceless painting, her hands trailing along the marble countertop like she could feel the weight of his bank account through it.

But you, you didn’t even look up.

You walked right past the windows, past the absurdly expensive furniture he didn’t even like, straight to the couch, kicking your shoes off and curling up with the fries like it was your own place.

Harry watched you for a second, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

“You’re not even gonna pretend to be impressed?” he teased, leaning a shoulder against the wall.

You popped a fry into your mouth, eyes half-lidded from sleep and salt and whatever warmth was left between you both.

“I mean,” you shrugged lazily, “it’s nice. But these fries are stealing the show right now.”

Harry’s grin softened as he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with something deeper now, something unspoken but electric.

Without warning, his hand reached up, fingers curling gently around your cheek, pulling you closer.

The paper bag slipped from your fingers, fries spilling softly onto the floor.

And then his lips were on yours, soft at first, like a question, then pressing harder, more urgent.

Perhaps both of you were a bit typsy but your heads were totally clear.

You gasped for air, caught off guard, but kissed him back, your hands finding his shoulders, your heart racing like it might burst out of your chest.

His other hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you against the wall with a warm strength that sent shivers down your spine.

It felt good, better than good, like something you’d been waiting for without knowing it.

But just then, a sudden wave of nausea rolled through you, sharp and unwelcome, pulling you out of the moment.

You broke the kiss, blinking, trying to steady yourself.

Your hand flew up to your mouth, but it was too late. A sudden, harsh wave hit, and before you could stop it, you were retching over Harry’s shoes.

He froze for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, then quickly crouched down to steady you, his voice calm “Shit — hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over your back.

“Oh my god… I need the bathroom,” you managed to choke out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Harry didn’t even flinch. “Down the hall, second door on the left,” he told you quickly, already helping you to your feet.

You bolted, following his directions, and sank to your knees beside the toilet just in time for another wave to hit.

A few minutes later, after cleaning up the mess in the living room and tossing his ruined shoes in the trash, Harry padded down the hall. He found you sitting on the cool bathroom floor, your back against the wall, looking pale and a little miserable.

He knelt down beside you, a bottle of water in one hand and a clean towel in the other.

“Hey,” he said gently, a crooked little grin on his face. “Thought I’d better come check you didn’t pass out on my bathroom floor. Bad for your reputation.”

You groaned softly, leaning your cheek against the cold porcelain of the toilet, eyes half-lidded as you looked over at him.

“I really need more French fries,” you mumbled, your voice raspy but stubborn.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he sat beside you, one knee bent up.

“No, you need to sleep,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Fries tomorrow. Sleep now.”

You made a small noise of protest, closing your eyes. “But I’m gonna die without them.”

He grinned, his hand still resting lightly against your temple. “If you die, I’ll be arrested. Can’t risk it. So — bed.”

You cracked a sleepy, tipsy smile. “You’re bossy, Harry Castillo.”

He snorted a soft laugh. “Yeah, well… someone’s gotta keep you alive tonight.”

Then, gently, he helped you up to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you to bed before you pass out on my bathroom’s floor.”

Harry kept an arm around you as he guided you out of the bathroom, your steps slow and a little unsteady. You clung to his wrist like a sleepy child, head drooping against his shoulder while he half-laughed, half-worried you might collapse again.

He pushed open the door to one of his rooms, though it was obvious no one had ever really stayed in it before. Soft, clean sheets. Dim, cozy lighting. Not as sleek as the rest of the apartment.

“Alright, c’mon, trouble,” he murmured as he helped you sit on the edge of the bed.

You tried to peel off your dress but only managed to tangle an arm halfway through the strap before sighing dramatically. “This thing’s trying to kill me.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “Okay, okay. I got you. Arms up.”

He helped you ease out of the dress, careful, eyes pointedly keeping to your face like an absolute gentleman. He reached for a t-shirt, one of his, soft and faded with the passage of time, the kind of thing people would fight over in a breakup, and slipped it over your head. It hung to your mid-thigh like a dress.

“Perfect,” he said with a small smile, pulling the covers back.

You were already half-asleep again when he turned toward your purse sitting on the side table. He dug through it, phone, lip gloss, keys, a crumpled receipt, until he found a small pack of makeup remover wipes.

“Bingo.”

He crouched beside the bed, gently tilting your chin. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Let’s get this off so you don’t wake up with mascara all over the place.”

You made a sleepy, agreeable noise as he carefully wiped the makeup from your face, his touch tender, his thumb brushing your cheek more than once.

When he finished, he tossed the wipe and ran his hand over your hair. “There. Not bad.”

Your eyes fluttered open, gaze finding his, a tiny, crooked smile on your lips. “I like you, Harry.”

Harry grinned, heart stupidly clenching. “Yeah, well… I kinda like you too, French fry girl.”

And he pulled the blanket up over you, brushing one last stray hair from your forehead before clicking the light off.

The morning light slanted through the tall windows, soft and too bright for the pounding in your head. You groaned, bringing a hand to your temple as you cracked an eye open, and immediately froze.

This wasn’t your bed. This wasn’t your ceiling. And that smell definitely wasn’t your candle from Bath & Body Works.

You sat up slowly, blinking around at the unfamiliar room, trying to piece together the hazy, champagne-fogged puzzle in your head.

Harry.

The wedding.

Your stomach flipped for a whole other reason this time as you swung your legs off the bed and stood, wobbling slightly as you padded barefoot toward the door.

You stepped into the hallway, the muted sound of city traffic far below, the faint scent of coffee in the air. A few steps more and you rounded a corner, stopping when your eyes landed on him.

Harry was sitting at the table by the window, sunlight catching in the messy curl of his hair, a mug in one hand, phone in the other. He looked unfairly good for a man who had dealt with a drunk you.

The second he saw you, his face lit up. That same easy, crooked smile that had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

“Morning, trouble,” he grinned, setting his phone down. “How’s the head?”

You winced, pressing your fingers to your temple. “It’s… existing.”

He chuckled, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Come sit. I made coffee. And I’ve got water and Tylenol with your name on it.”

You blinked at him, still a little dazed. “Wait… did we have sex?”

Harry’s grin faded instantly, his expression softening into something careful, not offended, not smug, just… sincere.

He shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “We didn’t.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. And before you could spiral into embarrassment, he kept going.

“I would never,” he added, eyes steady on yours, voice low and firm. “Not like that. Not with you. You were tipsy, half-asleep, and throwing fries at me in my kitchen.” A crooked smile tugged at his mouth again. “I got you into a t-shirt, wiped off your makeup, and put you to bed. That’s it.”

Your chest warmed, a knot somewhere in your stomach loosening a little at his words, at the way he said them. Not defensive, not self-righteous. Just honest.

You gave him a small, sheepish smile. “Okay. Good. I—“

“You threw up on my shoes though” He interrupted, hiding a smile.

“Oh my god!” You said, taking your hands to cover your face, “I can pay you back.”

Harry laughed, a real, full-bodied one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Oh, absolutely not,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Those shoes deserved it. Honestly, they were ugly as hell.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, groaning. “I’m mortified. I am so sorry. I’ll pay you or — or buy you new ones. Whatever you want.”

He shook his head, waving a hand like it was nothing. “They were Gucci,” he confirmed, grinning at the way your eyes widened like saucers.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dropping your head to the table dramatically. “I’m a monster.”

He reached over and nudged your arm gently. “Relax, it’s fine. Honestly, I hated those shoes. It was a mercy kill.”

You lifted your head, giving him a hopeful look. “Okay, but… to ease my guilt. Coffee. On the house. From my coffee shop. For a year. It’s the least I can do.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “A year, huh? Unlimited?”

“Unlimited,” you confirmed, hand over your heart.

His grin turned smug. “So, do you own a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” You replied.

“Yes,” you replied, sitting up a little straighter, a flicker of pride sneaking through the mortification. “It’s called Willow & Coffee. — down on 10th.”

Harry’s brows shot up, a surprised grin pulling at his mouth. “Wait—” he pointed at you, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You own that place?”

You blinked, confused but curious. “Yeah… why?”

“Are you kidding?” he shook his head, leaning back in his chair, grinning like this was the best plot twist he’d heard all week. “I always send my assistant there. Every morning. Best coffee in the entire New York, hands down. I didn’t even know the owner was… you.”

You laughed, both flattered and a little flustered. “Well, guess you’ve been funding my rent without even knowing it.”

He smirked. “And here I thought I was just overpaying for caffeine addiction. Turns out, it was fate.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, grabbing the Tylenol he’d set out for you. “Fate and Gucci-vomit.”

You popped the Tylenol into your mouth, chasing it with a sip of water, then your eyes drifted down to the plate of breakfast he’d made — fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast with a little dish of jam on the side.

Your stomach, now steady enough to form coherent requests, let out a soft, very real growl.

Harry caught the sound and grinned. “Eat,” he said, nudging the plate toward you. “Figured you might need something great this morning.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. “God, yes,” you murmured, grabbing a fork and digging in. The eggs were perfect, soft, buttery, with just the right amount of salt. You groaned around a mouthful. “Okay, you cook too? Is there anything you don’t do?”

Harry chuckled, sipping his coffee. “Plenty. I’m shit at assembling furniture. And parallel parking. But breakfast? I’ve got that handled.”

You grinned around another bite of bacon. “This is incredible. I should puke on your shoes more often.”

He laughed again, head tipping back, a warm sound that filled the kitchen. “Noted. But let’s make it a special occasion thing, yeah?”

You smirked, reaching for a slice of toast. “Deal.”

You finished the last of your toast, licking a smudge of jam from your thumb as you leaned back in your chair, feeling marginally more human. Harry was watching you over the rim of his coffee mug, that same soft grin on his face.

“So,” he said casually, setting his cup down, “are you gonna give me your number, or do I have to track you down at your coffee shop like some hopeless caffeine addict?”

You snorted, pulling your phone from where it was sitting on the table. “Pretty bold of you to assume I’d want to see you again after the great puke disaster of last night.”

“Oh, please,” he smirked, sliding his phone across the table to you, “I haven’t laughed that hard in months. You’re a keeper.”

You bit your lip, fighting a grin as you typed your number into his phone and handed it back. “There. Now you can make use of your free membership.”

He glanced at the screen, saving your contact with a small, satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

A little while later, you stood up, reluctantly peeling yourself away from the warmth of his apartment and his stupidly good breakfast. You padded back to the bedroom where your things were and quickly pulled yourself together, your head still a little fuzzy but far better than earlier.

When you came back out, Harry was leaning against the doorframe, watching you with that same infuriatingly good-natured smile.

You stepped up to him, feeling bold in the way only a hangover and a good breakfast could make you, and pressed a light, lingering kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm, and you could feel the faint scratch of stubble beneath your lips.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you murmured, pulling back to meet his eyes.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “Anytime, trouble.”

Once you stepped out of his apartment, the air hit your face, clearing the last haze of sleep and champagne from your head. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down to see Claire’s name lighting up the screen.

Are you alright? You didn’t text me last night!

You smiled softly, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you replied:

Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for checking in. Talk soon, enjoy the start of your married life.

Pocketing your phone, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself

Three days passed, and you hadn’t heard a word from Harry since you left his apartment. The silence gnawed at you more than you expected — a quiet, unsettling kind of disappointment that crept in slowly.

Why had you even thought he’d be different?

You tried to shove the thought aside, burying yourself in work instead. The hum of the coffee machines, the chatter of customers, and the smell of fresh espresso helped distract you, kept your mind busy.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in some inventory paperwork, one of your employees approached, holding out a small envelope.

“Boss? There’s something for you here.”

You slowly opened the envelope, expecting a note or maybe a card — but instead, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you barely had time to register the scene before your eyes locked onto a giant bouquet of roses, nearly as tall as you were.

And then you realized, those roses had legs.

Behind the massive, fragrant explosion of red petals, Harry was standing there, grinning like he’d just pulled off the best surprise ever.

You stood frozen, stunned, your heart skipping a beat.

“I wanted to grab my free coffee and see the boss of this place,” he said with a wink, “people say she’s really pretty.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, you got the right place,” you replied, shaking your head in amused disbelief.

The whole office watched, a mix of surprise and delight lighting up their faces as Harry stood there, roses in hand, like something out of a movie.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. “Alright, Mr. Castillo, let’s get you that coffee.”

Harry stepped closer, still holding the bouquet like a proud knight with his shield. He glanced around at the curious faces in the office, then back at you with that playful glint in his eyes.

“So,” he said, voice low and a little hopeful, “how about you make me company while I grab that coffee? I don’t do well with crowds.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Are you asking me to take care of you, Harry Castillo?”

He shrugged with a charming grin.

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, and you found yourself smiling more than you expected.

“Alright,” you said, “but only if you promise to keep those roses away from the coffee counter.”

He laughed, stepping beside you as you both headed toward the café.

“Deal.”

You led him toward the little counter tucked near the back of your coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans and warm pastries wrapping around you both like a soft blanket. The employees tried their best to look busy, but you caught a few of them sneaking glances, one of the baristas nudging another with a grin.

Harry leaned against the counter, setting the ridiculous bouquet down carefully beside him.

“So… what’s the house special?” he asked, eyes on you like you were the only thing worth noticing in the room.

You smirked, grabbing a cup and jotting down his name on the side with a little heart.

“Depends,” you teased. “Are you looking to be impressed?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t care. As long as you’re drinking one too.”

You shook your head, amused despite yourself, and started making the drinks, your fingers moving on autopilot while your heart tried to pretend it wasn’t skipping like a damn drumline.

When you handed him the cup, he didn’t take it right away, his hand brushed yours, lingering just a second too long.

After you took a set-in front of him, you notice him fidgeting with his fingers.

“Is there something wrong, Harry?”

 He lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Okay, well. There is something I need to ask, well said. It's kind of embarrassing. But I need to ask you something.”

You arched a brow, curiosity tugging at your lips as you leaned in a little, elbows on the table.

“Okay…” you teased lightly. “Now you have to ask. Can’t leave me hanging like that.”

Harry let out a nervous little huff of a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

Harry shifted in his seat, his usual confidence flickering for a second, and god, it made your stomach flip. You weren't used to seeing him like this.

He cleared his throat, lifted his gaze to meet yours again, and gave a crooked, sheepish little grin.

“Okay, so… this is gonna sound insane, and probably is, but I kinda need a favor. A big one.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You’re really milking that whole free coffee deal, huh?”

He chuckled, then rubbed the back of his neck again. “Yeah, well… see, there’s this event thing, like, family thing… and I may or may not have told them I was seeing someone. Which was stupid. I know, I know,” he added quickly when your eyebrows shot up. “It’s just, they won’t stop setting me up with these awful dates, and I panicked. So now… I need someone to, uh, pretend to be my girlfriend. For a little while.”

Your lips parted, surprised. You blinked at him.

“Pretend?”

“Yeah,” he said, a little too fast. “Just for a bit. A couple dinners, maybe an event or two. Nothing crazy. Just enough to convince my mum and Nan to get off my back for a while.”

You stared at him for a second longer, and then, against your better judgment, a slow smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You really dug yourself into a hole, huh?”

“Deep,” he admitted, grinning now too. “And you… well, you’re the only person I trust not to sell me out mid-dinner.”

What Harry didn’t say, what he couldn’t say, was that this wasn’t just about his family. Not really.

Sure, his mum and Nan were relentless, and sure, the dates they lined up for him were a special kind of torture. But if he was being honest with himself, something he wasn’t great at. This whole idea had started when his ex-had shown up at his sister’s engagement party last month, hanging off the arm of some the guy she had left him for. And Harry had felt something sharp twist in his chest, something ugly he didn’t want to name.

He’d told himself it didn’t matter. He’d moved on. Or at least, he’d been trying to.

Then you came crashing, quite literally, into his night at the wedding of one of his closest friends, and throwing up on his Gucci shoes like it was some kind of cosmic joke. And instead of being annoyed, he’d laughed. Genuinely laughed. And when he’d tucked you into bed, wiping makeup from your cheek, something soft and unfamiliar had settled in his chest.

There was something about you. Something he hadn’t expected. Something he didn’t want to break.

You were easy to be around. You didn’t fawn over him or try to impress him. You didn’t treat him like he was made of glass, or like he owed you something. You were real in a way he hadn’t realized he was starving for. And yeah, maybe it had started as a petty plan to prove something to himself, to the world, to Lucy, perhaps, but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a game.

And now, sitting across from you while you teased him about his free coffee addiction, that quiet, stubborn part of him wanted to wrap you up in bubble wrap, to keep that warmth you carried, untouched by the messes of his world.

He ran a hand through his hair, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you mock-consider his ridiculous offer.

God, what am I doing?

But you looked up at him then, those eyes bright with mischief and something softer underneath.

“Alright, Harry. But you owe me.”

And he knew, without a doubt, he was already in deeper than he meant to be.

💌💌💌💌💌💌

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[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | March 10th-24th 2025

Work has just been.... a lot. Feels like the only thing getting me through the week is 9-1-1 Thursdays. Anyway. It's a long one cause you're getting two weeks. Bon appetit.

Complete

it has no name (no guarantee) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,1K | General):

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time. "Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?" (or: eddie calls, buck blurts some things out, they're totally normal best friends)

all my life, there you go Chapter 29. Sleeping in by trysetmeonfire (Post-S8E9: Sob Stories, Eddie Back From Texas | 1,2K | Mature):

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.” 

is it enough now by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,4K | Teen):

“I’m not in love with you,” Buck blurts out as soon as the ringing stops on the other end of the phone. There’s dead air on the other end of the line, but the kind that’s filled with background noise - a distant hum, some breathing sounds, just enough for Buck to know that Eddie heard him. buck finally calls eddie. he's still working through some stuff. he's kind of a disaster, honestly.

city lights, without you (they don’t even shine like they used to) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,5K | Teen):

“It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Maddie said, and she didn’t even sound surprised. Is this something she’s thought about before? Do his sister and his ex really think he’s secretly in love with Eddie? And if Maddie thinks so, does Chimney do, too? Fuck, does everyone think he’s pining after Eddie? ~ buck is not in love with eddie. definitely not.

I’ve pined for you my whole life (morning, noon, and night) by paleredheadinascifi (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,7K | Teen):

“Where did you do it?” Eddie asks in one quick breath. “Hmm?” Buck hums. “Sorry I - - I. Nevermind. Sorry. It’s none of my business,” Eddie croaks, and whatever that is in his voice is what finally clues Buck in. “Oh. Oh,” he gasps. “Where did I - - where did we sleep together?” Or, Buck calls Eddie after 8x11.

sanctioned departures by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8E10: Voices Coda | 1,9K | General):

Buck gets his sister back and loses his best friend in the same week.

a fool for you by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 2K | Mature):

“You did what?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding faint over the phone. Buck groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I moaned your name! I don’t know why man, I just– Tommy said a bunch of stuff after– after. And I can’t work any of it out, and I know this is probably weird but I really need my best friend right now.” -or- Buck accidentally moans Eddie's name after he bring Tommy back to his place- oops!

keep me by you by euadnes/ @kananjarus (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 2,5K | Teen):

"It's funny you say that," he says. His voice has gone so soft Buck thumbs the volume up, his heart in his throat. "My date tonight ended early because I too would not shut up about the amazing guy I apparently couldn't get over. And he didn't enjoy being used a rebound. Or at least that's how he put it." Buck didn't hear that right, right? He realizes his mouth has fallen open, a few seconds too late. He scarcely dares to breathe. "He -? Wait, you were on a date with a - a guy?" Eddie cocks his head, quirks his mouth. "That's the part of the conversation you're focusing on?"

Buddie Versus The Kiss Cam by explorerofworlds (Basketball Date, S8 | 3K | General):

Buck and Eddie take Tommy’s tickets and go to a basketball game together. While there, they end up on the kiss cam! Or the kiss cam fic.

I just want it to be you by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 4K | Mature):

Five times someone calls Eddie Diaz to talk about Buck and one time Eddie calls Buck instead.

realizations by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Are you okay?” On the ground, his phone screen was still lit, a call with Eddie displayed on the screen. Through the haze of panic, Buck was at least relieved that he hadn’t managed to start a video call. I think I’m in love with you. Oh God, I think I’m in love with you. “Yeah, I– everything’s good, I think I just– butt dialed you, or something.”

loose-tongued, in love by wenttoafortuneteller (Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Get home safe,” Buck says. Then, as always, he thinks: I love you. Eddie goes very, very still. His breathing stutters to a stop. There’s a strange expression on his face, his mouth twisting in that way it does when he doesn’t know what to say. Buck squints blearily at him. “What?” A muscle in his jaw twitches once. Twice. The muted light illuminates the quiet movement of his throat as he swallows. “What’d you just say?” “Get home safe,” Buck repeats, a yawn overtaking the last word. “Why…?” Or: the one where Buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to Eddie without realizing it.

24 Hours by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8E10: Voices, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated):

Chimney asks, "Who are you texting?" "Eddie." "Really? He's only been gone… what—? Two hours?" "Two hours and thirty-one minutes." "Not that anyone's counting." (Or, Buck and Eddie in the the first 24 hours after Eddie leaves.)

Coming for you by diazsdimples (Eddie Moves to Texas, PWP, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit):

The idea of Buck on his bed, in his house, wearing his shirt, while he touches himself really does something for Eddie. It makes the small, possessive beast that’s curled up inside his chest purr with contentment. The beast that shouldn’t really exist, because Buck isn’t really his. His phone pings again with another text from Buck. OR Eddie moves to Texas, Buck moves into his house, and neither of them really know how to handle it. Good thing phone sex solves all problems!

How to supreme an orange by paleredheadinascifi (Post-Chris coming home, Getting together | 5K | Teen):

"I don’t like oranges.” “Since when?” Eddie frowns. “You used to love oranges.” Christopher shrugs. “I don’t like them anymore.” And that’s fine, really. Tastes change. Christopher doesn’t have to like oranges. It’s just that he does. Christopher loves oranges. Christopher has loved oranges since the first time he tasted one, Eddie watching on over a shaky video call from the desert. Or, Eddie knows his kid, and his kid loves oranges. Buck knows both of them better than Eddie realized. He shows it in various citrus-based ways.

stay in the line, stay in the line by Elgney (S4E5: Buck Begins | 5K | General):

"The other firefighters were very kind. We got to hear a lot of stories about you. They seem to like you a great deal." Or: two missing conversations from Buck Begins.

Don’t Think About It Too Much, Too Much, Too Much, Too Much by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @fruitsdontknow (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, Chris Coming Home, Getting Together | 6K | Mature):

“My friend, my…. Eddie’s like that. He’s a single parent, too. Big worrier. He nests. Uh,” Buck dips his head down. “Loves his kid more than anything. That’s where he’s coming from, now. Picking up his son, Christopher.” “Your Diaz boys,” she clarifies, a warm look in her eyes, and Buck feels his cheeks heat up. “Yeah.” *** Eddie and Chris finally come back to Los Angeles. Buck has some realizations, and confessions, to make. Good thing Eddie's got some of his own to share, too.

softer, harder, in-between by mostardent/ @laracrofted (S8E9: Sob Stories, Jealous Eddie, PWP | 6K | Explicit):

“He was hitting on you!” “So? Who cares?” “I care. We’re married!” Buck blinks. And blinks and blinks and blinks. “Okay. Hold on. What?” One of Eddie's potential renters flirts with Buck, and Eddie is super normal about it and doesn't at all lose his mind over the idea of Buck dating the man who moves into his house.

I'll take your chaos and your crooked in a heartbeat by heartbeatdiaz/ @lonelychicago (Post-S8E10: Voices, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen):

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought before it can settle. Eddie isn’t dead. He’s in Texas, doing what’s best for Christopher. And Buck—Buck has to get over whatever this is. Swallowing hard, he moves to grab one of his own boxes, dragging it toward the hallway. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A single, forgotten cardboard box in the far corner of the living room. In big, black letters, written with marker, it reads: EDDIE — KEEP. It’s not one of his. He is sure of that. or: Eddie leaves a very important box behind and Buck spirals.

the things i wanna hear by stevesconverse (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Chim's Bachelor Party | 6K | Teen):

— or the one where Buck finds a video of him and Eddie making out at Chimney's bachelor party.

we get back to my house (your hands, my mouth) by weewooforever (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, PWP | 7K | Explicit):

Eddie finds out that Buck fucked Tommy in his house. His reaction to finding this out is perfectly normal.

I missed your skin when you were east by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit):

Maybe Buck had gotten used to people leaving. So much so that it didn’t affect him anymore. His life would keep going even if his best friend wasn’t there anymore. Eventually, he accepted that nothing would feel different. He signed the moving truck away and sat on the porch stairs, one almost warm beer in hand as he waited for Eddie to get home. When Eddie did, Buck almost felt like something was different about him, but then figured it was just his imagination. Buck left his half-drank beer on the porch of Eddie’s former house shortly after Eddie had left him the same way. Half-drunk. Unchanged. OR; Eddie leaves, and Buck's life stays the same. It's when he comes back that everything changes.

That’s what you do (when you love somebody) by scarmaddiewrites (Eddie Moves to Texas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen):

Buck can’t go home. He physically can’t, so he avoids it at all costs, until he doesn’t. Or The five times Buck avoids his house and the one time he never wants to leave

can you see what we are? (it’s all there written down) by kabnd/ @polkadotk804 (Canon, S2 onwards | 8K | General):

April 25, 2019 - Buck, genuinely distressed in the middle of the night in the bunkroom, presumably to Eddie (overheard by me, Chim): “Do you think that cat from the ‘hang in there’ poster is dead? Like how long do you think that little dude really hung in there?” Eddie, who I think was still mostly asleep: “At least he left a legacy.” OR: Maddie starts a shared note to document Buck and Eddie-isms…it gets just as unhinged at you’d imagine and tells their story from the perspective of the 118 & Co…and then Chris comes home!

smiling through it all by stevesconverse (Canon Divergent, S2E1: Under Pressure | 8K | Teen):

“So what’s your real name, then?” Eddie asks, sipping on his own drink—a whiskey he’s swirling around in the glass constantly. “Evan,” Buck says coyly, quickly adding, “But nobody really calls me that.” “Evan,” Eddie echoes, the sound dripping off his tongue like thick honey. “I like it.” It almost makes Buck regret to ever abandon it in the first place, driving a shiver down his spine. Almost. “And what’s Eddie short for? Eduardo?” he quickly shifts the conversation, stirring his drink and popping another peanut into his mouth. Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “Edmundo,” he corrects him, then winks at Buck with a low, “But nobody really calls me that.” or the one where Buck and Eddie have a one-night-stand two days before Eddie starts at the 118.

think i know where you belong by stevesconverse (Eddie&Chris Go Back To LA, Roommates, Accidental Kiss | 8K | Teen):

“Bye,” Eddie mumbles distantly, and when Buck finally manages to open his eyes again, Eddie is halfway out the door already. Puzzled, he just stands there, listens to the slam of the door and the starting of the truck outside, his mind spinning and his lips still tingling. Eddie has just kissed him. Actually kissed him, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world, like this was what they always do, a routine they follow, a dance they’ve learned. Except it’s none of that. 

meet me in the afterglow by literalmetaphor (Established Buddie, Hurt/Comfort | 9K | Explicit):

“We need a safe word,” Buck says. “You know, to make things as clear as possible.” “I feel like no works just fine,” Eddie says. Buck lets out a breath, because, sure, it probably will, but he needs assurance here. He needs something straightforward, simple, maybe something easier than Eddie telling him no. Maybe something easier than Eddie saying it’s too much. He’s never been great at that. “Just, humor me, okay? Communication is key with stuff like this.” Eddie’s laugh is soft, kind of incredulous, but he meets Buck’s eyes, and there’s a relenting fondness in them. “You think, what, you’re gonna be so good it’s gonna scramble my brain out of knowing how to say no?” An answering laugh tumbles out of Buck, peppered with the exasperation at the back of his throat. “I think this is new for you, and I think you should have options.” OR Eddie has to use the safe word.

love of my life, can't you see? by wenttoafortuneteller (S8E11 Spec, Crack | 10K | Teen):

“I asked Josh out,” Buck admits. It’s cartoonish how quickly Eddie’s jaw drops; how his eyes bulge out of his head. Buck rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, waiting for him to say something. There’s still silence. Buck frowns at his screen. “Eddie? Hello? I think you froze.” “I’m here,” Eddie says slowly, eyes still comically wide. “I just think I might have misheard you.” “Oh,” Buck says, and repeats himself. “I asked Josh out.” “Okay. So I didn’t mishear you.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I ask why?”  Or: Maddie nudges Buck towards Eddie, Buck misunderstands horribly, and Eddie suffers over FaceTime.

I can roll with all the punches (if you hold a couple back) by Elgney (Canon, S1-S2 | 13K | General):

“I need someone like you—someone who can keep up with him, and have his back, and maybe eventually even rein him in, should that be a thing that is humanly possible to do,” said Bobby, smiling warmly over the remaining half of his sandwich. “Oh, I see,” said Eddie. And he did now. That’s what Bobby’s whole hard sell was about—it wasn’t personal, it was about Eddie being the top of this class. “I know the type. You see guys a lot like that in the military.” “Oh, no,” said Bobby, “I didn’t mean to—well, what I mean is, I don’t think you have seen a lot of guys like Buck, to be honest. I don’t think there are a lot of people like him.” ----- Hen & Chim discussing the new probie; Buck's forgotten shield ceremony; Eddie's first shift with the 118. Or: three early impressions of Buck, through the eyes of his future found family.

hopeless, breathless, burning slow by mostardent/ @laracrofted (Post-S6E11: In Another Life | 14K | Mature):

He knows Eddie worries about him. Everyone does, but with Eddie, it’s not the same. He doesn’t look at Buck like he still has one foot in the grave. Eddie looks at him like he prayed for a miracle and God gave him Buck. In the pale blue-green light, Buck lifts his gaze mid-sentence and finds Eddie already looking at him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders down. He looks at ease, relaxed and peaceful, a fond smile on his face, coaxed from the corner of his mouth. One of his Christopher smiles, except Eddie’s gaze rests steadily on Buck, so maybe it’s a different kind of smile, one just for him. His dark eyes are warm and bright as afternoon sunshine, brimming with happiness, and it’s the most real Buck has felt in weeks. After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. (Or, Eddie hovers and Buck burns.)

listen for heaven by marviless/ @marviless (S8, Eddie Moves to Texas | Getting Together | 15K | Teen):

There’s a long pause before Buck answers. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “I felt alone for the first twenty something years of my life.” “What about now?” Eddie asks, and he’s not even quite sure what he means. What about now, right in this moment? or what about now, now that I’m gone? Buck chooses to answer the former. “I’m never lonely when I’m with you,” he says simply, softly. Eddie, Buck, and six phone calls.

Finding You by Sabs/ @memequeme (Soulmates AU, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 16K | Teen):

Eddie leaves for Texas on a Tuesday and Buck feels it in his heart before he even exits the airport. He starts to feel it in his body on a Thursday. Or: Soulbonds are rare, spontaneous bonds are practically unheard, but Buck and Eddie have always been anything but conventional.

🔥been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, S2 | 17K | Mature):

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later. — A story, in many ways, about holding hands

you're more than a heart can take by Elgney (Eddie Coming Out, First Date | 19K | Mature):

“Come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t consider sneaking into a storage closet with me?” “Obviously, I would!” Eddie was whisper-yelling now, and Buck wasn’t sure exactly what point he was trying to make, but he was enjoying every second of this. “But one of us is going to have to have restraint and it has to be the—the one with the most experience.” Buck felt his mouth drop open in delight. “Eddie,” he admonished. “Are you calling me a whore?” “No!” said Eddie, looking increasingly flustered. “I just mean—clearly you have the power to do—” he gestured at Buck, “that, so you have the—the responsibility to, like, use it. Responsibly.” “Did you just quote Spiderman?” Eddie propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, groaning dramatically. “I’m going to die. The first date, and I’m going to die.” “Been there, wouldn’t recommend it.” --- Buck and Eddie and the first date.

under pressure by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Established Buddie, First Time, PWP | 22K | Explicit):

“It’s not funny,” Eddie sighs, knocking the back of his head against the kitchen cabinet as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Oh, come on—it’s a—it’s a little funny,” Buck argues, amusement thick in his voice as Eddie feels his hand curl around his own wrist. Eddie takes a breath, and drops his wrist to rest over his own knee as he turns to meet Buck’s eyes, arching his own eyebrow in question. Or: Buck and Eddie have grand plans for their first time, it's just unfortunate that their bodies don't seem to be getting the message.

🔥 boy, we ain't got nothin' to lose by Elgney (Amnesia, Post-S7E5: You Don't Know Me | 26K | Teen):

“They just follow it around, copying it and helping it and bothering it so much that it's like, worn down into loving the duckling back and looking out for it.” “So,” said Eddie, furrowing his brow. “In this scenario, you are—” “A baby duckling, newly hatched into the world with no idea what’s going on.” “And I am—” “The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.” ---- Eddie has no idea how to cope when a temporary case of amnesia causes the return of Buck 1.0. Buck has no clue why his future self hasn't made the moves on his hot best friend. It all goes pretty well, considering.

🔥 Your Fake Name is Good Enough For Me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Changeling AU, Post-S8A | 37K | Mature):

When a younger man claiming to be Evan Buckley is apprehended by Pennsylvania police, Buck's past and present are thrown into question. Buck must work with Bobby and Athena to discover who he really is, and what that means for his family.

🔥paving hell with energy by Elgney (S8E9 Spec, Kidnapping, Getting Together | 52K | Not Rated):

Oh, fuck him, did he almost sleep with a serial killer? Distantly, he thought, Hen and Chim are never going to let me live this down. And then he thought, I might not live at all. ----- Buck is having a hard time dealing with Eddie's impending move to El Paso and resorts to some Buck 1.0-style coping mechanisms. Unfortunately for everybody, this backfires in spectacular fashion. Especially for Eddie, who waited until now to realize he was in love with his best friend. OR: Buck and Maddie get kidnapped. Eddie spirals.

Part 1 of not how the damage gets done

You tried to run (I tried to tie your shoes) by Elgney (Established Buddie, Fluff | 6K | General):

“Do I want to know what’s going on here?” Bobby asked. “Normal stuff,” Buck shouted from where he was, back on the couch. Eddie snorted down at his form, feeling fond and avoiding eye contact with Bobby, who must have stared down Chimney instead, because a second later he was fessing up. “We’re making them fill out their HR relationship forms separately, and then we’re going to compare them, Newlywed Game-style.” ---- Buck and Eddie fill out the LAFD's Consensual Relationship Agreement paperwork, Chim and Hen are over them already, and Bobby is just trying to make lunch and commit as few HR violations as possible.

Part 2 of not how the damage gets done

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 14? | 60K | Teen):

Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of menby euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 17/18 | 169K | Mature | Warning: Violence):

The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a cold world for such a long life by nuuma // fic by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 1-1.5h | Teen):

Eddie befriends Bobby's estranged older brother in a virtual support group for queer adults struggling to come out. The only problem? He has no idea that's who Charlie is.

🔥[Podfic] Even in Winter There is Eranthis by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit):

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 [Podfic] Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 5-6h | Explicit):

Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

[sojumimi]

又 : loving you again ──── 西村力 (니키)

SYNOPSIS : where two meet as strangers and then become friends, but then one leaves the other behind, and that they are strangers again... will they mend their relationship to become friends again or even something more, or would they leave everything as they had left it?

COUPLE : high school student!ni-ki x high school student!reader to ➤ ???!ni-ki x ???!reader

GENRE : romance, slice of life, reality check, and a sprinkle of angst [maybe a little more than a sprinkle, but you know what i mean], slow burn!!

BEFORE READING : the story starts out when both ni-ki and the fmc/fl [female lead/female main character] are in high school, it’s a bit of a long start before they meet again, cause like you need development and plot ㅠㅠ ⋮⋮ face claim of the fmc/fl [female lead/female main character] is only for imagery purposes only!! in no way shape or form am i shipping her with ni-ki! ALSO FYI TIME WILL NOT MAKE SENSE- I didn't think this through guys ㅠㅠ

WARNING : vulgar language, and kys/kms jokes will be made, and some maybe nsfw jokes

CAST : enhypen members, leehan [bnd], sungho [bnd], eunchae [lesserafim], myung jaehyun [bnd]

STATUS : on going [on hold]

STARTED : 20250330 @ 23:11

ENDED :

ꜱᴏᴊᴜᴍɪᴍɪ : my first SMAU and I think my storage is dying 哈哈哈哈, and plot may not be plotting, please bear with me ㅠㅠ

chapters & profiles :

PROFLIES : [daisie.co] || [#popular] || [honorable mentions]

CHAPTERS :

01 im sorry what, now?!

02 why. why would you choose that-

03 research

04 group hangout (not)

05 fracture, dumb shit happened

06 who the hell is that?

07 planning?

08 cafe date!

09 disaster

10 looking after a man child, only for tutoring ofcourse

11 oh- she's mad

12 arcade

13 results, shedding happy tears

14 group study session?? and more injuries

15 all nighter #grumpy yn

16 exam season midterms, finals, and ap exams

17 more all nighters

18 extra circulars

19 collage aps

20 bowling? youre a bowl???

21 that’s gay

22 ate night gathering

23 crushes, teasing, getting love from hyungs

24 k-tv, #sunghoon and sungho embarrassing moment

25 summer plans

26 news

27 letters and sobs

28 did she delete her account?

29 gone, she’s gone?

30 graduation

31 starting again ( time jump second year of university)

more coming soon...

reminder all chapter titles are subject to change! <3

──── taglist : closed

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated !

© all rights reserved sojumimi 2025

do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission.

[hellothereobiwankenobi]

yellow ribbon on the door | chapter four

⟢ summary: Joel keeps finding excuses to see you.

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (femme but not descriptive as to actual features)

⟢ tags: no outbreak au, flower shop au, idiots in love, small age gap, joel is 35 and reader is 29 about to be 30, reader is a war widow, operation desert storm mentioned, reader is a single mother to ellie, eventual smut, no beta reader we die like men

⟢ wc: 5.5k

⟢ authors notes: Hello, friends! It's been almost two weeks since my last update. I'm so sorry for that. I am a university student, so very regularly real life gets too busy for me to write. Very inconsiderate of the my professors to give me so much homework and distract me from my real passion if you ask me. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Also this is the longest chapter I have written yet... so enjoy!

ꕥ previous │ navigation ꕥ

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

This afternoon marks the third time Joel has arrived unannounced at your flower store in the past three weeks. He explained that the last time he was here, he noticed one of your display tables had a wobble. That's all he said before setting his tools down, kneeling next to the faulty table leg, and getting to work. He worked in relative silence, allowing you to continue your daily duties undisturbed. Once he had evened out the legs and ensured they were secure, he gave you a curt goodbye and left without saying anything else. Two days later, he came again. This time, it was your front door. He stated the hinges were squeaky and needed to be oiled. The following week, he returned again. The faucet of the utility sink in your back storage room, where you wash used planter pots and fill your watering can, would drip even when turned off fully. It started to seem every time he came, he noticed something else that needed to be fixed.

Joel's surprise visits had become a semiweekly tradition. Despite the rocky past shared between you, having him there starts to feel normal. The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm like this. He would work on the myriad of repairs as you helped customers, fulfilled orders, or completed regular housekeeping around the shop, sneaking glances at each other whenever the other was distracted. 

With each visit, you see glimpses of the man Tommy described to you all those months ago—a quiet, stoic facade but protective and dependable.

One morning, he arrives before the store is open. You're on the front sidewalk, eyes closed, face scrunched, and both hands clutching a large bag of potting soil. At least nine matching bags are stacked outside the shop next to you.

You give up, drop the bag you're trying to drag inside, and wipe the sweat starting to accumulate at your temples. You don't know how to get them inside, but your current efforts are not working.

Joel jumps out of his truck and jogs over to where you are standing.

"Oh, good morning, Joel." Your breath comes out in huffs, the exertion apparent from your shaky voice. You gesture down at the bags of soil giving you so much trouble. "The delivery guy usually brings them in for me, but they were just sitting there when I got here."

Without saying anything, Joel tosses one bag over his left shoulder and tucks another under his right arm. He carries each bag of potting soil to the back storage as you stand in shock, wondering how strong could he really be?

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

It's mid-August, and Joel is adding extra supports to the ceiling to hold the crystal chandelier that illuminates the front showroom. His brows pull together as he takes the final support screw from between his teeth and inserts it into the ceiling with an electric drill. 

You're arranging baby pink alstroemeria and white carnations in a red-tinted vase at the front counter. A soft, unconscious smile pulls at your lips as you preen the bouquet before you. This is the kind of moment Joel likes the most. The kind that makes all his labors around the shop worth the effort. It's only the two of you. The store is quiet, apart from the same poppy tune you've been humming all morning. He can ignore all the world's demands outside and enjoy the peace that being with you like this brings.

"What's your favorite?" Joel's voice pulls you from your reverie. 

Your head jerks up, eyes wide in surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What's your favorite flower?" He repeats.

It was a simple question, but you're taken aback. You aren't used to Joel asking you about yourself. Truthfully, you aren't used to him asking you anything.

You try to collect your thoughts. "Well, I like sunflowers. Primrose begonia. Mecardonia. Black-eyed Susan. Creeping Zinnia" 

A sudden wave of self-awareness washes over you. You feel a bit silly, rattling off half a dozen names. You let out a nervous laugh while your cheeks begin to warm. Adding in a rush, "Anything yellow. It's my favorite color."

If Joel notices your onset discomfort, he doesn't let it show. He returns his attention to screwing in the last support. 

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Joel completes his efforts regarding the chandelier and makes a final trip from the shop to his work truck to return his tools. You want to catch him before he can make his usual silent goodbye. Tugging at the apron strings tied behind your back, you pull your head through the neck-straps, hanging it on a hook by the register. "Think I'll close up for an hour and grab something for lunch."

Joel turns around sharply at the sound of your voice, his dark eyes immediately finding you. He's just staring at you, so you continue, "Would you like to come with me?" 

The gears in his head start to work overtime. You want to get lunch. 

With him. 

Over the past several weeks, the two of you have spent countless hours together. You've seen each other more regularly than ever before. The idea of getting lunch together shouldn't fluster him like this… but it does.

You are still waiting for a reply.

Shit. Shit, say something, he mentally scolds himself.

"Yes." Is all he can force out.

You didn't realize it, but you had been holding your breath, waiting for his answer. The last time you presented him with a similar offer, he had blatantly shut it down. You crack a slight smile that develops into the kind that makes the corners of your eyes crinkle. "Okay, let me lock up real quick."

Joel brings the last of his tools to his truck and waits outside for you. You carry a camel-colored leather tote under one arm and meet him outside. Flipping a small sign that reads 'Be Back Soon' you lock the front door before dropping the keys into your purse.

"We can walk from here. One of the perks of being downtown." You lead the way to a coffee shop just around the block. It's the type of trendy business that has been popping up throughout the downtown district for the last several years. Joel would never go somewhere like this on his own. The crowds that frequent these places were a little too clean cut for his liking and don't typically mix with working-class folk like him.

The two of you enter and join the line to order. The café's interior is decorated in warm earth tones and natural wood.

"They have the best bagel sandwiches here." You look up at Joel with bright eyes and a broad smile, making his stomach flip. Giddy excitement is painted across your face. How could he think of food when you're looking at him like that?

Stepping up to the counter, you ask, "Can I get a medium iced caramel latte with extra drizzle and a toasted turkey bagel sandwich cut in half, please?"

The college-age barista behind the counter scribbles down your order on a palm-sized notepad before turning his attention to Joel. "And you, sir?"

Joel is still looking down at you, but his gaze is fixated on your bare upper arm. The short puff sleeves of your orange and white gingham linen dress left most of your arms on display. He imagines reaching out, just a few inches, and brushing his knuckles down the exposed skin—feeling how soft you are.

"Sir?" the barista repeats, louder this time.

This finally pulls Joel's attention back to the café. But his mind has been too preoccupied; he hasn't given any thought to what he wants to order. 

"Black coffee." He hurries out.

The barista looks a bit confused but writes it down on the notepad.

"You don't want anything to eat?" Your gaze is directed to Joel, concern swimming in your eyes.

He shakes his head. "I'll be fine."

"Hmm," you're not convinced, but you choose not to push the issue. Opening your purse, you dig through the mess, looking for your wallet. The medium-sized bag seems bottomless, filled with old receipts, a pack of baby wipes, ChapStick, a travel-size bottle of sunscreen, a used tissue or two, and an astronaut LEGO figure you're sure Ellie dropped in there.

When you finally find it, Joel is already pulling a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from his own. He reaches around you and slides it across the counter to the barista. 

"Why did you do that?" you ask, shooting him a disapproving look. "I invited you. You need to finally let me thank you for all your help."

Maybe it was his southern upbringing but Joel could never imagine letting a lady pay for their date. 

Not that this is a date, he thinks to himself.

"I'll get it next time." You huff before marching off to find a table.

The two of you settle on a two-person table next to the front windows of the café, but the gravity of the situation quickly makes itself known. Sitting across from each other like this feels more intimate than it should.

Silence falls between you, both waiting for the other to break it first. You keep a small, practiced smile on your face, but hidden under the table, your fidgeting fingers betray you. Joel nervously bounces his knee, his posture too straight, and his usual stony expression occupies his face.

"So," you can’t take the silence anymore and ask, "Is Sarah ready for the first day of school next week?" hoping to ease the growing tension.

The butterflies raising havoc in Joel's stomach cease at the mention of Sara. Like all proud fathers, his favorite subject is his daughter. His expression softens, and his shoulders relax. "Yeah, first day of high school. Makes me feel old."

"I understand what you mean." You let out a small laugh. "Ellie's starting first grade. She's so excited to leave kindergarten and start 'big girl school.'"

Joel nods, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. The memory of Sarah in the same scenario comes to mind: "I reckon I was more scared than Sarah was for her first day. I walk her up to the classroom. As soon as she sees they have a rabbit for a class pet, she runs for it. Didn't look back once."

The atmosphere lightens as you discuss how nervous Ellie's transition to elementary school is making you. Deep down, Ellie is a sweet girl. She loves animals, likes to play with the younger kids she meets during trips to the park, and is fascinated by all things outer space. But you're also aware that she is a handful at the best of times.

The barista arrives at the table, holding your food and drinks on a black serving tray. He lays your respective drinks down and places a white ceramic plate in front of you before wishing you both a good meal. 

Looking over at Joel's lonely mug of black coffee, you place half of the bagel sandwich on a paper napkin and slide it across the table. As he opens his mouth to object, you shoot him one of those mom looks that reads, 'Don't even try to argue.' His mouth snaps shut, knowing this isn't a fight he will win.

You pick up the other half of the sandwich from the plate with both hands and take a bite. It's just as good as you remember. Washing it down with a sip of your latte, you wrap your lips around the straw. Joel becomes distracted by the seemingly innocent action as he watches your mouth carefully. Absent-mindedly, your tongue runs over your plush lips after removing the straw from between them. His mind drifts again, imagining what else he'd like to see your lips wrapped around.

Before you can catch him staring, Joel clears his throat and pushes those thoughts away. "Why a flower store?"

"There's no better gift than a bouquet of your favorite flowers." You set down your sandwich and wipe your hands on a napkin. "When I was a kid, my dad would come home from work and surprise my mom with flowers' just because'. I'll never forget the look on her face every time he did. Thought maybe I could be a part of that for someone else."

You take another drink before continuing, "And I've been digging in the garden for as long as I can remember. I never went to college, so plants are the only thing I really know."

Joel can understand that. He had been working his trade since he was fourteen. His father would dictate that he accompany him to different work sites during school breaks. His dad had insisted it would 'help him become a man,' but Joel knew the real reason was the family could use the money. After high school graduation, college seemed like a distant fantasy for him. He was a decent student, but the family's financial situation hadn't improved over the years. Joel knew his younger brother would have to take his place with their father if he had left. Tommy was only twelve at the time.

Eventually, Tommy finished his education and joined the Army. Joel stayed home and worked as an independent carpenter until he finished his enlistment. That's when the two brothers agreed to start Miller Brothers Contracting.

"Just before I lost my husband, I realized I didn't have a life outside of being a mom and an Army wife. So, when the life insurance money came, I put half away for Ellie's college fund. The rest I used to help open the shop."

Joel sipped his coffee as you spoke. He is sure that life must have been lonely. He knows firsthand what it's like to raise a daughter alone.

"You're not from here. Why stay in Austin?" Joel can't stop himself now. He's gotten a small look at who you really are and wants to see it all.

You squirm in your seat momentarily while thinking of an answer, and Joel wonders if he has overstepped.

"My hometown," you look down at your drink and stir the glass with the straw, apprehensive to continue, "isn't the type of place with a lot of opportunities. All the guys I grew up with joined the military, and all the girls got married right after graduation and started having babies. It's just not the kind of life I want for Ellie. I want her to have every opportunity I never had."

Joel can only nod his head. Your dejected look pulls hard on his heart, making it ache.

Without thinking, he blurts out, "Tommy's comin' over for dinner this weekend. You and Ellie should come on by."

"Really?" Your eyes jump from your coffee to the man sitting across from you. The beaming smile you give him melts away the aching in his chest. "That would be great!"

"Five o'clock, Saturday," Joel says before checking the time on his phone. "I gotta go. But, yeah, Saturday." He stands from his seat.

He exits the café, phone still in hand, and dials Tommy's number. 

"Tommy," he speaks into the receiver, "I need you to come over Saturday."

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Standing on Joel's front porch, holding a bottle of expensive French wine that you can't pronounce the name of, you take a deep breath before knocking on the front door. Just before 5:00 PM, you and Ellie pull into his driveway.

This is just like the other times you've been here. It's nothing new, you remind yourself, trying to untangle the knots forming in your stomach.

The door swings open, and Sarah greets you both with a smile. "Hi, Mrs. Williams." She steps aside, allowing you two to step inside.

The sound of glass shattering echoes through the home, followed by a loud 'Damnit, Tommy' coming from the kitchen. 

"Dad and Uncle Tommy are in the kitchen." Sarah winces at the sound of broken glass. "They might need your help."

You let out a small laugh and shake your head. The Miller brothers never cease to entertain. Ellie and Sarah follow behind as you enter the kitchen.

Turning the corner, you see the two brothers bickering in front of the stove. There is a glass jar of spaghetti sauce splattered across the floor.

"I told you not to put that there." Joel points a wooden spoon at his brother's chest.

"Maybe if you looked where you were goin' for once, you wouldn't've knocked the damn thing over." Tommy shoots back. You imagine this is what they have been like since they were kids.

You clear your throat, and both men see the three of you watching them fight.

Tommy beams, stepping over the mess painting the kitchen floor, and bends to wrap his arms around Ellie. He picks her up into his arms and plants a quick kiss on her cheek. "How's my favorite baby girl?"

Ellie wraps her little arms around his neck but turns her nose up at the question, "I'm not a baby, Uncle Tommy. I go to big girl school now."

"You do?" he plays along as though he doesn't know. "Well, shit, kiddo. Pretty soon, your mama's gonna be teachin' you to drive."

"Tommy," You give a soft smack to his upper arm "language, please."

"Sorry, Sugar." He turns his head to you, a cheeky grin taking over his face. He gives Ellie one more kiss before returning her to the ground. He wraps his arms around you next, squeezing you tight. As he pulls away, he slips the bottle of wine from your hand.

Tommy lets out a low whistle as he reads the label "The good stuff. You tryin' to get me drunk?"

"Like you ever need help with that." You roll your eyes. "It was a gift from a client for doing their wedding arrangements on short notice."

Tommy nods to Joel over his shoulder, "I'll put this somewhere he can't knock it over." He exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Joel looks ready to start round two with his brother but stops in his tracks when you turn your attention to him. You give him a small wave, accompanied by a gentle smile, and he forgets whatever heated remark he was going to make.

"Hey, Ellie." Sarah crouches down to her eye level. "Wanna play with bubbles in the backyard again?"

Ellie nods so fast that you think she'll make herself dizzy. The two girls exit through the glass sliding door and disappear into the late August sun, leaving you and Joel alone.

You look down at the mess on the floor. Taking a large step over it, you reach for a roll of paper towels on the counter. Crouching down, you collect the larger pieces of glass before discarding them in the trash can. Joel lowers himself to the floor beside you, and you hand him a wad of paper towels.

"So, I'm guessing we are having spaghetti." You tease.

"Was supposed'a be." He mumbles.

The two of you work to mop up the remaining spilled sauce. When the paper towels absorb the last few drops, you look up to see Joel is closer than you realize. His face is only inches away from your own. Heat burns at your cheeks and your breath hitches in your throat. Shooting up to a standing position, you throw away the soiled paper towels.

"Let's see what we can put together." you rush out, turning to wash your hands at the sink.

Joel stands back in amazement as you expertly scurry around the kitchen, making a single jar of pasta sauce stretch enough for five people. To the jar of premade sauce, you add two cans of crushed tomatoes and a tin of tomato paste he didn't know he had in his pantry. As the sauce thickens in a medium sized soup pot on the stove, you sprinkle in several dried seasons, stirring as needed. A pot of salted water comes to a boil as you place the pasta inside. After raiding his fridge for scraps, you pull together a salad from half a head of lettuce and miscellaneous garden vegetables.

When you find out the men hadn't thought of what to serve for dessert, you dig through the pantry to find a half-full bag of chocolate chips and just enough flour and sugar to make a single batch of cookies. You roll dough balls between your palms and place them on an oiled baking sheet. 

The comfortable silence that has taken over the kitchen as you worked breaks when Sarah and Ellie come running into the house from the backyard. Tommy had found himself outside playing with the girls, and now they are trying to outrun him. Tommy throws open the sliding door, baring his teeth and growling while he looks around the room, putting on his best monster impression. He catches sight of Ellie and bolts toward her. She bursts into laughter and runs to hide between you and the kitchen counter, trying to obscure herself behind your legs.

Tommy takes slow, heavy steps, getting closer and closer. His gaze moves from the laughing girl to the individual balls of cookie dough on the counter before you.

"Tommy, don't even think about it." You warn, "You'll ruin your appetite."

Tommy's eyes shift back to Ellie, who is still hiding behind your legs. He gives her a quick nod, a mischievous smile stretching across his face. He lunges forward, grabbing three cookie dough balls off the baking sheet and shouts "Girls, run!"

The three troublemakers race for the backyard, laughing the whole way.

A soft 'Damn it, Tommy' leaves your lips, but there is no malice behind the words.

Joel chuckles to himself at the exchange. A month ago, the same scene playing out in front of him would have left him seething. A bitter taste would have coated his tongue for the rest of the night. But as he has come to understand his feelings and gotten to know you better, the relationship between you and Tommy warms his heart. Add the fact that seeing you in his kitchen like this felt so domestic, so right. Like it is always supposed to be like this.

When dinner is ready, Joel calls out for Tommy and the girls to come inside. The five of you cram yourselves around a small, circular dining table. Throughout the meal, everyone bumps knees and is nearly rubbing shoulders, but no one minds.

Joel scolds Tommy for showing Sarah and Ellie a trick where he can pull a piece of spaghetti noodle from his nose that he learned while in boot camp. Sarah tells you how she has already planned every outfit for her first week of high school. Ellie shows the whole table how Uncle Tommy taught her to make farting sounds with her armpit. Then it's your turn to scold Tommy.

You sit back from the content chaos and take a sip from your glass of wine. You can't remember the last time you ate a meal like this as a big family. For years, it had been just you and Ellie. Before that, it was usually just you alone. But being here, watching the mayhem unfold, makes you feel whole.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

After dinner, you sit with the two brothers on the deck overlooking the backyard. You notice Joel must have bought a third Adirondack chair since you were here last, which is nice as you no longer have to sit on the arm of Tommy's. You're explaining to Tommy all the work Joel has been doing around the shop; all the while, he throws his brother knowing grins.

Joel tries his best to block him out and listen to you speak. Usually, he would shrink away if someone were to gush about him like this, but it was coming from you. Your praises are making his heart race and filling him with a sense of pride he has never felt before.

You hear tiny feet stomping up the stairs, connecting the deck to the grassy yard and across to where you sit. 

"Mommy, Sarah said she can take me to the park. She said it has two slides, a little one and a big one, and a swing set." Ellie's eyes are wide with excitement. "Can I go?"

"Well," you draw out skeptically, thinking it over. You trust Sarah to be responsible, but letting Ellie out of your near proximity has always been anxiety-provoking.

"C'mon, now." Tommy pipes up, "Let the poor girl go swing." He takes a drink from the brown beer bottle in his hand. He had started drinking during dinner and now was on bottle number five.

You shift your face to him, about to say something about Uncle Tommy being a bad influence, but then your eyes turn to Joel. Sarah is his daughter. If he thinks she is mature enough to do it, you would say yes.

"Why don't you ask Sarah's daddy if it's okay." You give your daughter a reassuring smile and point to Joel.

Ellie turns her attention to Joel, "The asshole."

You think your heart has stopped beating. Your very coherent thought leaves your mind as the horror of what Ellie said settles around you. 

Tommy nearly chokes on his drink. He erupts into a screaming fit of laughter, squeezing his eyes shut as tears threaten to stream down his cheeks. 

"Ellie!" Your voice is shaky and panicked. You turn to Joel, face burning hot and crimson from mortification. You try to put on an apologetic smile, but your face feels like it's going numb. "I-I'm so sorry. I have, I have no idea where she heard."

"Mommy, you said that," Ellie replies nonchalantly as though she doesn't understand how you forgot.

"My love," your pitch is a bit too high to be natural. An artificial sweetness becomes present. "Remember when we talked about not repeating what Mommy says at home?" 

Ellie still doesn't see the problem with what she said. She shrugs her shoulders and gives a slight shake of her head.

"Okay, Ellie. Go to the park with Sarah." The unnatural sweetness is still in your voice.

Ellie runs off to rejoin Sarah without a second thought.

You shoot to your feet, refusing to look at either of the men next to you. "I'm going to grab another glass of wine." You rush into the house, clutching your empty wine glass, and slam the sliding door behind you.

Tommy wipes the tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. His sides are sore and he feels like his face is going to split in half. He slaps a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Well, at least you ain't gotta wonder what she thinks about you anymore."

You fumble with the bottle of wine as you uncork it, pouring the burgundy liquid into the crystal glass. You throw back the entire glass before pouring another. 

Your heart rate has almost returned to normal when Joel enters the kitchen. 

A second wave of guilt washes over you again. You can't bring yourself to look at him. "Joel, I am so sorry."

"It's okay." he offers as he steps closer to you.

"No, really." Your voice grows small. "I'm so sorry. I never should have said that in front of Ellie, and I especially never should have said that about you.

"It's okay." He repeats.

You place the wine glass on the counter and stare down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. "When I said that, we barely knew each other." The more you speak, the more nervous you become. The fear of ruining your already fragile new relationship with Joel terrifies you. "You've been so amazing with all the help around the shop. I feel so awful. I just—"

Joel grabs you, wrapping his large hands around your upper arms. "It's okay."

You finally look at him, eyes wide. 

"I've been a real asshole to you since we met." Joel pauses. "And… I'm sorry."

The sensation of relief you feel from his words is overwhelmed by something different. 

Joel is touching you. 

He's never touched you before. The big hands and strong fingers you've caught yourself daydreaming about more than once are currently wrapped around your upper arms. Warm skin on warm skin. His palms are calloused from two decades of hard labor, but there is a softness to them as well that you didn't expect. 

Joel seems to realize this at the same time you do. He lets go of your arms and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The warmth from where his skin touched yours is gone within an instant.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

The sun was setting when Sarah and Ellie returned from the park. Joel, Tommy and you all sat in the living room. The brothers sit on opposite sides of the brown leather couch while you occupy a black recliner. The television was tuned to a Texas Rangers game, but none of you were watching it.

You and Joel sit in a comfortable silence as Tommy fights to keep his eyes open. Though he refuses to admit it, he definitely had one too many tonight. 

Sarah and Ellie enter through the front door. Without saying a word, Ellie climbs into your lap, rests her little cheek against your chest, and closes her eyes.

"Did you two have fun at the park?" You ask, wrapping both arms around your daughter.

Ellie nods her head against your chest, eyes still closed.

Sarah sits on the couch between Joel and Tommy. She leans her head on her father's shoulder and wraps her arms around his.

"Think it's time for the little ones to get some sleep." You tease, rubbing Ellie's back as her breaths become slow and even.

"Joel, can I sleep here tonight?" Tommy slurs. 

"Yeah, go ahead." Joel agrees. The idea of Tommy behind the wheel in this state would terrify anyone. And the last thing Joel wants to do is pick up his younger brother from the Travis County Jail for another DUI.

Tommy pushes off the couch and stands on shaky legs. Once he finds his balance, he shoots you a toothy grin. "Nighty night, Sugar."

"Goodnight, Tommy." You let out a breathy laugh. Tommy was always Tommy, regardless of his sobriety level.

Tommy grabs the staircase's railing and climbs each step as carefully as he can in this state. Joel watches him, making sure there aren't any unfortunate accidents about to happen. 

Sarah also stands from the couch, stretching before wishing Joel and you a goodnight.

"We should probably get going, too." You shift Ellie in your arms, making carrying her to the car easier. You rise to your feet and look to Joel. "Thanks again for having us over."

He's on his feet in an instant. "Course, anytime." 

Joel races to the front door, holding it open for you. You walk toward the driveway where you had parked your car. Securing your hold on Ellie with one arm, you fish your keys out of your pocket with the other, clicking the unlock button on the key fob. Joel moves around you, opening the back passenger door so you can place Ellie into her car seat. Joel stays there, hand on the door as you secure the belt over your sleeping daughter. Once Ellie is strapped in, you step out of the way so Joel can gently shut the door.

"Y'all two can stay." Joel offers. He knew the three glasses of wine you drank weren't enough to get you drunk, but he still worried about you driving back to the city when it was so dark outside "I can kick Tommy outta the guest room and onta the couch."

"Or you girls can sleep in my bed, and I'll take the couch." Joel was ever the southern gentleman, offering his own room so you and Ellie would be comfortable.

"Sounds like you're just trying to get me in your bed, Joel." you tease, flashing him a flirtatious smile. 

Maybe you were more drunk than Joel initially thought.

Joel's heart starts to race, and he swallows thickly despite how dry his mouth has suddenly become, "I-I wasn't implyin'—"

"I'm just messing with you." You laugh. Your smile is so big it forces your eyes half closed.

Joel's mind is moving a million miles a minute, and he isn't sure how to respond.

Before he can formulate a sentence in reply, you are walking around the front of your car and climbing into the driver's seat. You start the engine, give Joel a polite wave goodbye, and pull out onto his street, driving into the night.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

⟢ authors notes: I think I must be ovulating because writing Tommy's scene where he's playing with Ellie has me feeling some type of way. But can you tell how much I love Tommy?

Also, I'm trying to keep this story as realistic as possible. I've put a lot of research into grief, military life in the 1990's and early 2000's, and the general attitude of the continue during that time it for later chapters. The one thing I did take artistic liberty with is that someone is watching a Rangers game in Austin. I know that technically Astros territory, but fuck the Astros.

⟢ tag list: @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @damneddamsy @legoemma @isabella-rose-trastamara @hoddystark @suzysface @speaktothehandpeasants @anoverwhelmingdin @orodaeh

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

<- Previous -> Next

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.  

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Law Professor Satoru Gojo x Student Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is like 29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. In this chap- Fingering, cunnilingus, explicit sex, breeding kink, violence, descriptions of violence (ANGSTY CHAP)

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8.5k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right? That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU

Chapter 9 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 10

The escort agency is in a sketchy part of the city, and Satoru keeps looking at you worriedly that evening. “I’m fine, Professor.”

“You sure? I can take you back-”

“I’m good, promise! You should see the foster homes I was in. This isn’t anything to me.” He frowns more now, and you all pause on the sidewalk, you can feel the tension, the worry.

“I hate that you ever went through that, baby.” He whispers now, caressing your face sweetly. You gulp a bit, sighing and holding the hand that’s so gentle on your cheek.

“It’s all gotten me here, next to the best lawyer there is. The most handsome too. The best-” Satoru closes your mouth with his hand, and you smile against his warm palm.

“Don’t get me hard, brat, stop it.” You’re giggling now, making him glare at you, long white lashes covering half of his pretty blue eyes.

“Sorry, you’re so cute.”

“Cute!? I’ll show you ‘cute’ later.” He kisses you firmly, lips overtaking yours, and you sigh at how good it feels for a moment, before he takes your hand. “Let’s go, Miss Brat. Lawyer mode.”

“Did you really say lawyer mode!?”

When you get there, dragged along by the stupidly tall and stupidly handsome Satoru Gojo, who’s wearing a black suit looking way too good, the bouncer at the door nods at Satoru, letting you both in without a word. You look at him curiously, and he peeks back with a smirk.

“Paid informants silly, never partook in the goods here.” You roll your eyes at his wolfish grin. “Jealous already?”

“Shush.” The inside is dimly lit, with red velvet couches and a bar along the back wall, and there is a woman sitting in a little booth. The woman looks up, and you can see the recognition in her eyes when she sees Satoru. She’s very pretty, with long red hair and green eyes.

“Mr. Gojo, wow it's been years. And who might this lovely lady be?” She asks, her voice a purr as she smiles curiously at you.

Satoru’s grip on your hand tightens, and you can feel his possessiveness, and his reassurance. “Hey Aoi.” He introduces you now, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Favorite student.”

“Oh! Oh… Mr. Gojo.” She’s laughing now a bit, wiggling her brows as Satoru grins, and you’re a blushing mess. “Hey now, doll no worries. Who can blame you with him? And also you’re so pretty.”

“Thank you, so are you Miss Aoi.” You say, flush decorating your cheeks, and she smiles softly.

“And she’s so sweet. All right, I’ll put aside my broken heart for her, Mr. Gojo. How can I help you today?”

“I break all the hearts, don’t I? I’m too pretty.”

“Gojo!” You playfully shove him and he just brushes his snowy white hair back with long fingers, winking down at you so damn charmingly.

“Came to see one of your girls, and Madam.”

“Let me see if she’s available.” She is gesturing to the plush sofa in the waiting area. "Please, have a seat, you two. I'll inform the Madam about your arrival."

Satoru nods then, as he guides you to the couch. “Thanks Aoi.” You sit down, your heart racing at being somewhere so new, so different. The walls are adorned with velvet and the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume, so cloying it irritates your nose a bit.

As you wait, you feel Satoru's hand squeeze yours reassuringly. You look up at him, and he gives you a smile that's a mix of comfort and challenge, as he pulls you against him, hand on your thigh. You lower your lashes, and feel his chuckle against your collar bone, tickling you now.

“Nervous, Miss Brat?” He asks, in that deep timbre, and you sigh, nodding.

“I am, this isn’t… I’ve just never been anywhere like this.”

“Oh, this is just the waiting room, wait till we walk through. Bet you blush red like a tomato.”

“Hey!”

“Mmhmm, or get horny. It’s a toss up.” You roll your eyes, scooching away, but he yanks you back to him. “You were so jealous just now.”

“No! I just… well, you never…”

“Nah, not my style. Though I don’t blame any of them, making money off rich idiots. And a lot of these women are so smart. They’re great for information.” You brush your fingers up and down his collar as you wait.

 You know he's as eager to get to the bottom of this as you are, you can feel the tenseness of his body against yours. Your knees are knocking together, you keep fidgeting with your hands, then fiddling with the charms on your bracelet. Satoru takes your hand in his, looking at you seriously.

“If you’re uncomfortable-”

“No, no. I’m good. Just nervous about everything.” He sighs, looking at your little charms now.

“You need another, hmm?”

Before you can answer, a curtain at the back of the room parts, and a statuesque woman emerges. She's dressed in a tight, crimson dress that clings to her body like a second skin. Her eyes are sharp and assessing as she looks you both over.

"Madam," Satoru stands, releasing your hand, "Thank you for seeing us."

"Mr. Gojo," she says, her voice like silk, "It's always a pleasure. And who is this lovely young lady?"

"My top student. She's assisting me with the case." He wraps an arm around your waist and her eyes catch it. “She’s also my Shnookums.”

“Shnookums? Huh.” Madam's gaze lingers on you, and you hold her stare, feeling a flicker of something unpleasant. It's not hostility, but something else. Calculation, maybe. "Well, well, this seems interesting, let's talk in private."

You both get up and follow her into a back room, the curtain swishing shut behind you. The room is dimly lit, with a large desk and a few chairs, thick incense heavy and smoking, there are ornate paintings and the walls are red with foiled gold leaf. There's a sense of something seedy but also it’s classy in a way. It’s what you would picture for a Madam, you think at least.

Madam sits down in a big red chair, plush and velvet, crossing long bare legs and smirking at you both. "What brings you to my establishment after so many years, Mr. Gojo?"

“Aww, miss me Madam?” He shoots a wink, and she rolls her eyes.

“Want a drink, you two?” You look at Gojo and he nods. “There’s a decanter of brandy right there, it’s a good year.”

“You’re always so sweet you know.” She scoffs, and his hand brushes your thigh before he stands, adjusting his suit a bit and then pouring from the crystal decanter, allowing the Madam time to study you.

“You’re awfully pretty. You should come work for me.” She cooes, and Satoru comes over and scowls at her, making her smirk. “What, she’d make top dollar.”

“I enjoy law, but thank you for the offer.” You say smoothly, and the madam’s red lips tilt up.

“I like her.”

“I know, she’s the best. Here ya go, Madam.” Gojo hands her a glass, then you, with the clear amber liquid. “Now…” He sits next to you, hand possessively clutching your thigh, he always has to touch you when he can, and you love it, love feeling so connected. “I need to talk to one of your girls. She might have information on our suspect."

Madam's expression doesn't change. "Which one?"

"Kanna."

Her eyes flicker with something, but she remains calm. "Kanna is no longer with us. She's moved on to... other opportunities."

You see Satoru's jaw clench, and you know he's not buying it. "Bullshit," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "I know she's still here, I’ve already had details about her. And I need to talk to her."

Madam sighs, leaning back in her chair. "Very well. But what's in it for me?" She asks, and Satoru smirks now.

“How about… this.” He pulls out a giant wad of hundreds, there was surely thousands of dollars there, and she nods then, standing.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Gojo. I’ll have her come in. It was a pleasure to meet you, you’ve got quite a man.” She is trailing her long red nails across your cheek, tilting your chin up. “And he’s got quite a girl.”

“I sure do.” She tousles Satoru’s white hair, sauntering out then, leaving you both waiting in anticipation. “She’s kinda a bitch.”

“Mmm, seems like a businesswoman to me.” Satoru chuckles, as you take a sip of the strong liquor, coughing a bit.

“Lightweight.”

“Hey!” Soon though, a young woman with short black hair and a wary look in her eyes enters the room. She's dressed in a short, lacy dress that leaves little to the imagination. You can see the fear in her eyes as she looks at Satoru, and something in your chest tightens.

"Thank you for coming, Kanna. We need your help." Satoru says then, standing up to shake her hand, and her eyes flick to you, and then back to Satoru, curiously.

"Sure, what's going on?"

"We're working on a case," he says, his voice softer now. "And we think you might have some information that could help us."

Kanna looks at the floor, biting her lip. "I don't know anything."

Satoru's gaze turns intense, and you can feel the power in the room shift, it’s like you can see him go into that mode, the serious one. "Look at me," he commands, and she does, her eyes wide with fear. "I need the truth, Kanna. We're trying to put away a dangerous fucking man, and free an innocent one."

For a long moment, she's silent. Then she looks up, her eyes meeting both of you, fidgeting as she sits down finally. "Okay," she whispers, "I'll tell you what I can, that was a long time ago."

“Thank you, Kanna. All right, do you remember a run in with Naoya Zenin?” She tenses, and nods, and you see it right on her face, she’s fucking terrified.

Kanna's voice is shaky as she starts talking, her eyes darting between you and Satoru, and you can see the fear in them. She tells a story of a night with Naoya, a night that ended with bruises and tears. The way she describes his behavior sends a chill down your spine, confirming the suspicions you've had since the moment you laid eyes on him.

Satoru's expression is unreadable, his icy blue eyes never leaving hers, studying her, even as he still holds on to you so close, like you’re tethering him from losing his shit. You hold his hand carefully, he is so tense and you can feel the anger simmering under his calm exterior, his hand balling into a fist at his side that’s not holding you. You know he's holding back, for now, but you’re not sure for how long.

Satoru is furious as he hears what he’s done.

“So why didn’t you say it was him that night with your friend!?” Satoru’s voice is harsh, and you can feel him coming apart at the seams. You struggle to hold his hand, which is clenched so tightly in a fist.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and tears start pouring from her eyes, so you stand up then, grabbing a box of tissues, and you walk over to her, bending on a knee down on the plush rug. You dab her eyes gently, and she smiles a bit tremulously, Satoru is quiet behind you.

“He’s just really, really worried about someone else getting hurt. You can tell us anything, we’ll protect you, okay?” She nods then, and you come to hold her hands, which are cold and clammy.

“Th-thank you. He told me he’d kill me if I said anything, and I believed him… I was so afraid.” She’s sobbing and you’re holding her thin body, as it wracks with her shaking shoulders.

Satoru comes up then, putting a hand on her shoulder, and one on yours, mouthing a ‘thank you’.

When she finishes her story, you can see the wheels turning in Satoru's head. He's piecing together the puzzle, looking for the one piece that will make it all make sense. "Thank you, Kanna, you've been very helpful. Do you think Madam has any vido cameras back there?”

She frowns, nodding. “She does. I’m not sure how far back they go but I suppose you might find the video of him with me. As for my friend who… is gone… I don't think so. He took her to his place.”

“I’ll pay her to find it. Kanna, could you possibly share this in court?”

“Oh god facing him!?”

“We’ll be right there, Kanna.” You say reassuringly. “He scares me too, he’s already… threatened me.” Your eyes lower, and she gasps, then holds your hands tightly.

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh my god!” You hug her tightly, feeling so much emotion for a girl you barely know. “Kanna you’re so brave.”

“I wouldn’t want you hurt because I was too afraid. But please… I need to make sure I’m safe.”

“You will be, I can get you out of here too if you want. A new life, far away?” She sighs, nodding then, and Gojo stands up and hands her a huge amount of money now, so much it was insane to physically see.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” She hands it back, but Gojo shakes his head.

“You’re doing me the biggest favor. Just keep this between us.”

“Of course, thank you. It will help me so much.” She stands up and hugs Gojo, then comes to hold your hands. “Please be careful. Mr. Gojo take good care of her.”

“I will, of course, I’ll get this mother fucker. Don’t worry.” She exhales, and there is a heavy tension in the room as you both get up to leave, Satoru's hand on the small of your back guiding you out.

Once you're outside, the cool evening air hits you like a slap in the face, and you both take a moment to breathe. "Shit, that was... something."

Satoru turns to you, his eyes a mess of emotions, those swirling cerulean depths drinking you in. He pulls you flush against him, exhaling, warm against the chill of the air, puffing a bit of your hair back. “You were amazing there.”

“What? No, Satoru, I just comforted her.” You look down a bit, but he tilts your chin back up.

“No, you were so caring, where I was harsh. Thank you. I don’t know if she would have opened up without you.” You hug him tightly, and he sinks his lips onto yours, moaning softly in your mouth.

“You’re so welcome, I’m so happy if I helped.”

“You have no clue. I’m learning from you.”

“No way.”

“Mmhmm.” You both keep pecking kisses, as his praise washes over you, making you so damn happy you can’t think. “Let’s get some rest, big day tomorrow.”

“Cuddle?” He smirks, nodding, and leads you back.

That night you end up falling asleep in his lap again, as he can’t tear himself from his research, and your heart aches for him.

****

Satoru Gojo is sipping on a sugary mocha frappe, as you’re sipping on a french roast the next day in a break room. This morning had been more witness testimonies, as Satoru is waiting to ruin it all if he can’t get this witness, Kanna, to be allowed.

“They’ll allow it! Fuck yes.” He says once he’s hung up the cell phone, his eyes lit up, despite the heavy dark circles. You bounce up eagerly, and he pulls you to him, exhaling as he clings so tightly.

“Oh Satoru, this is good news.”

“I’ll play stupid and fuck it all up. I’ll let him get ruined. But fuck, it’s going to be shit to ‘lose’.”

“You’ll be winning, really. Think about it.”

“If he says one word, I’ll fucking kill him.” Satoru says, tersely, then his alarm goes off, it’s time for you all to head back. “Fuck remember when I fingered you in like four minutes?”

You giggle at that, shaking your head at his change of subject. “Yes, I remember, crazy man. You spit on it!”

“Sure did.” He purrs out the words, and you’re a blushing mess now as he pulls you so close. “I’m taking a break after this case, thinking I’ll become a daddy.”

“Satoru stop that!” You smack at his hands as they come over your tummy, and he’s giving you puppy eyes.

“Too flat, I need it filled with me.” He picks you up, as you wriggle around in his hold, but he’s way stronger, and you’re getting turned on with him.

“You’re such an adrenaline whore! You’re getting turned on because we’re gonna get him, aren’t you!?” He grins then, letting you down, you slide down his chest slowly, giggling then.

“Like you’re not too, get turned on by true crime.” You shove at him playfully, before falling easily into his kisses. “I love you, Shnookums.”

“I love you, Toru. We got this.” You pop more reassuring kisses, but there is such a looming presence to your happiness, a heaviness in your chest that you can’t quite describe, gnawing at you.

You shove it down, you need to be here for Toru.

****

Sitting next to Naoya again, you have your shoulders squared, your chin up high as you watch your man, as he decimates the prosecution with ease, like any good defense attorney. Each question is a dance, a mix of Gojo pretending to try, and letting so much slip that will go against Naoya, as if biding his time until he’s going to demolish his own case.

“The prosecution calls Kanna Otigori to the stand.” Says the prosecutor, and Gojo pretends to be surprised along with everyone else. He may or may not have paid off the prosecution to call her.

Yeah Gojo is something alright.

Her eyes widen in fear as she sees Naoya next to you, and you look over to watch him stiffen, his fists clenching the table so hard they’re turning white. You can’t stop the smile the quirks up on the side of your lips, but you instantly erase it when he looks over at you. His eyes are terrifying, they make you tremble as he glares.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Zenin?” You ask softly, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes and sinking down into the seat.

“Didn’t give you permission to talk to me.” It’s your turn to scoff, looking at your notes for a moment, but suddenly he’s gripping your leg so hard you’re crying out, the courtroom is too loud currently with the uproar for it to stand out.

“Get the fuck off me.” You hiss at him, and he slides his hand up then, you grip his wrist, digging your nails in and glaring. “Get off.”

“I’ll expose you both if you ruin this shit for me, fucking got me?” You tremble, looking away as he continues to boldly touch you, in front of the whole room, but no one could see. “Let me catch you when your body guard isn’t around.”

He lets you go, and your heart is shattered, as you realize everything you have with Satoru is going to crumble. You’d ruin your career, his… but you can’t let him get away with this shit. You casually kick the fuck out of him with your heel under the table, and he damn near lunges at you before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Was gonna be sweet with you. Not now. I’ll fucking ruin every inch of you.” He whispers, and finally you can’t take it, you’re hyperventilating. You step out, rushing through the room, and eyes are everywhere on you.

You sink against the wall, holding your chest, it feels as if it were going to just explode, and then Satoru is there, holding you. “Satoru, no, go back in. Go back in! You need to fucking get him! You-”

“What’d he say!? What happened!? Baby tell me.” He’s cupping your face, having left his own damn trial for you.

“I’m ruining your life.” You whisper through tears, and his lips part in a gasp, as he shakes his head furiously, bending low, his beautiful face blurring as you keep feeling more and more faint. Your blood pressure has skyrocketed, you’re shaky, and you can’t catch a breath.

“You’re making my life. There was nothing before you. Stop it. Please, baby, c’mere…” He pulls you against him as you continue to hyperventilate, to the point you’re not sure you can breathe anymore. “Baby breathe with me. Please.”

Satoru holds you close, his hand rubbing circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, trying to calm you down. You focus on his steady breaths, trying to match them, but it's hard, really hard. The walls seem to be closing in, and all you can think about is Naoya's threats, about Satoru’s future, and you realize you’re crying all over his dress shirt.

"I've got you, everything will be fine." He whispers, and you want to believe him, you really do. You cling to his suit, breathing him in, trying to ignore the panic attack that's taking over your body.

But it's not fine, is it? It’s never going to be fine if Naoya gets away with this.

You manage to suck in a breath, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes searching your face, so concerned, so loving. "You okay?"

"No." You admit, and his own expression cracks, just a bit. "But I'll be okay. We'll get him."

"We will, I promise you. If not, I’ll fucking murder him, you got me?” He cups your face as he says it, as you lose yourself in his eyes. “What did he say?”

“I can’t tell you, you’ll fuck up the case. I need your head in the game, you need to get him. Please.” Satoru scowls then, opening his mouth to demand you tell him, when a court officer approaches, looking stern.

"Mr. Gojo, you're needed back in the courtroom." Satoru nods, looking torn.

“I need a break, please, I’ll be back in. Don’t worry, I'm okay.” He frowns, and you feel his energy, his love, as he shakes his head, but you gently push him.

"I love you. I promise I’ll do this right." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before he has to go back in, but his touch lingers, as you hug yourself, trying to control the violent shaking.

If you are going to be a criminal lawyer, you need to try to face this, you need to push past it.

You allow yourself some time before you walk back in, sitting next to this fucking man, and finally watch Satoru work his magic. He gives you a reassuring little smile, and you thank God he doesn’t know what Nouya did just yet, you know he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Your skin crawls as you continue to sit next to this disgusting man, but he’s actually terrified now, his eyes bulging out of his head, as Gojo plays ‘dumb’ and acts so shocked that the witness is ruining his case. He’s waving his hands dramatically, and trying to ‘argue’ his way, half assed of course, and suddenly the prosecution is looking happy.

“Kanna, how are we to believe you!?” Satoru asks, as if he’s really trying to dissuade her, then suddenly, a bailiff is handed evidence, and Satoru once more pretends to look shocked.

It’s a perfect show.

You both had admitted it to evidence by paying the Madam double what Satoru already had, to make it look like the Prosecution had done so. These Prosecution lawyers probably thought they were killing it, beating the Satoru Gojo!? And Satoru let them think so.

The Satoru Gojo, the best lawyer, who never loses, is going to lose on purpose, so he can make sure this fucker disappears.

“What is this!?” Satoru asks, as the judge views it, turning pale.

“This is… please, everyone, allow me a moment.” The judge is so disgusted she walks out for a moment, before convening with the lawyers and the rest of the team. “We will play this, but please be aware, it’s graphic.”

The video so clearly shows Naoya abusing Kanna, and you feel your stomach roll with nausea, tensing, as the jury looks on in horror. Kanna has already been escorted back, and you know she will be going far away, starting hopefully a much better life than she had. You’re ready to vomit, as Naoya is losing his shit, and his family is trying to control him.

Satoru is holding his mouth, as if he’s as sick as the rest of you, at points he couldn’t even look. “Your honor, I have nothing to say, defense rests.”

Everyone in the courtroom is in shock, there’s so much noise that the judge banging her gavel isn’t doing a damn thing, they’re all losing their shit. The famous Gojo rests his case, and he comes up to stand between you and Naoya, who lunges at him, and you see Satoru’s insane blue eyes, his brows up high, grin huge like the joker. He looks fucking crazy.

“Looks like our next talk will be how to keep you off death row.” He says, patting Naoya then on the shoulder, and then he’s just dragging you out, you race in your heels to catch his quick, long strides, until you all are out front.

“Satoru, are you okay? That was-”

“What’d he do? What’d he do fucking tell me.” You blink a bit, as he’s cupping your face so tight, and that insane look is even more insane, his eyes are so bright they hurt you to stare at. You take a shaky breath, looking around, and seeing people filing out of the courtroom.

“Satoru, we can’t right here-”

“I don’t fucking care. Tell me. Now. I have to know what he said to get you that way, what he threatened, he’s clearly a fucking monster!” His voice is breaking, and it breaks your heart to see him this way, as he’s got you in a vice like grip.

“Satoru, you’re hurting me.” You whisper, as he’s squeezing your head so hard it aches, he instantly releases you, pulling you against him and kissing you, shamelessly right there. “Satoru we can’t!”

“You’re fucking mine. I’m so tired of it.” He’s burying his face in your neck, and you know people can see, they’re starting to stop and say things.

“Please calm down.” You ease back a bit, then pull him away further, until you are behind a little alcove in front of the court house, and Satoru is completely on edge, he’s trembling all over. You run your hands gently down his arms. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t do something rash.”

“Nope, just tell me.” You sigh again, then hug your own arms, looking down as he studies you. “I need to fucking know baby.”

“Shit. He touched my thigh… and higher. Satoru!” He’s punching the bannister, and you watch it crackling, as he faces you again. “What else?”

“Satoru…”

“What else!?”

You tremble at his tone, you’ve never seen him so unhinged and it’s terrifying you now. “He… said he’d ruin me for you.”

“Fucking what!?”

“It’s fine, we’re going to-”

“I’m done acting so fucking mature. I’m done being the bigger person. He can’t touch you, don't you get it baby? I’ll never let him touch you again.” Satoru slings off his jacked as Naoya is coming right for him, and your heart drops in your stomach.

There’s no reaching Gojo now.

The crowd gathers around the two of you, whispers flying, as Naoya stops right in front of you, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "You think you're so fucking clever, don't you, Gojo?"

Gojo grins, looking terrifying, but Naoya doesn’t back up one bit, as Gojo starts laughing then. "It’s about to get so much worse for you. I wonder which boy will rape you in prison?" Satoru says, his voice deadly calm, his eyes glowing with rage.

Naoya loses his shit then, shoving at him. "You think you can just use me to win your little game? I'll show you what happens when you mess with me."

Satoru steps closer, so close you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. "You're already going down, Naoya. This is just the cherry on top, beating you to a fucking pulp for touching her."

You watch as Naoya's eyes narrow, his hands curling into fists, and Naoya swings first, but Satoru is already moving, his fist connecting with Naoya's jaw with a sickening crack. The sound echoes through the air, and Naoya stumbles back, his mouth hanging open in shock, and you watch blood already pouring from Satoru’s huge fist connecting.

You watch in horror as Gojo grabs him, slamming him against the banister, each punch thrown with the precision of a master. It's clearly not Satoru’s first time fighting, he seems to know every spot. Naoya struggles to get a single hit in, but Satoru is ducking, then swinging and punching his stomach.

“I said if you touched her you’d fucking die.” He bites out, as people are now recording on their phones.

Shit.

“Satoru…” You try to get his attention, but he’s well past that, and you want to stop him, but your body is frozen, your heart racing as you watch the man you love beat the living daylights out of the monster that is Naoya.

Satoru is like a force of nature, unstoppable, relentless, and you're both terrified and turned on by the power he exudes, and there’s now the threat of everyone seeing this, seeing him fighting Naoya over you. Naoya lands a hit on Satoru’s pretty face now, and you lose your shit, you snatch up your briefcase, coming behind him and whacking the fuck out of him now.

You can hear the murmurs of the crowd, the gasps, the whispers of shock and excitement as you’ve seemingly joined the fight. “Don’t touch him, you piece of shit!” You growl out, and Naoya coughs up blood, as Gojo grins over at you, pulling you to him for a moment.

“Fuck you’re hot.” He says, and you actually giggle, as he’s covered in blood, kissing you in front of a whole audience.

You all are SO fucked.

Naoya comes and shoves you then, knocking you on your ass, and then Satoru is back on him, knocking him to the ground and straddling him. “I’ll fucking kill you, don’t you dare touch her!”

Naoya’s family is trying to break it up, as are others, but the fight is brutal, each hit landed with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. It seems like it goes on forever, but it's really only a matter of minutes before Naoya is on flat the ground, not moving, and Satoru is kneeling over him, chest heaving as he keeps punching. Naoya isn’t even conscious.

“Satoru… he’s out.” You come to him then, touching his shoulder, so tense and shaking, but he looks up at you, then back at him, and punches his swollen, bruised face again, as you hear the sirens approach.

Shit.

The police come rushing over now, trying to pull Gojo away, but he’s not listening, he’s lost in his rage, until you’re grabbing his shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s over, Toru please stop, please." You’re shaking him, and finally, he’s coming back to reality, looking down at you, his eyes still alight with that rage, but now there’s a hint of something else.

Guilt.

He looks at you, and you just nod, and stand then, and he kisses you, so hard, before the cops can drag him away, whispering in your ear. “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it, I’ll get us out of this, I promise. I love you so much, so much.”

“Satoru, I’ll get you out. I’ll head right there okay!?” He nods then, as the cops are putting the love of your life in handcuffs, and the ambulance is taking a completely unrecognizable Naoya away.

You’re left standing there, as Satoru is taken away in the car, and you hop in his, heart racing and hands trembling, as you now have to navigate his car, and you follow the cop car, seeing his bright blue eyes peeking at you from the rear window. You stay right behind them until you get to the jail.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse inside of his car, smacking the wheel as your chest is heaving, as you’re fucking terrified.

You end up having to wait over three hours, agonizing as your friends let you know they’ve already watched the video on youtube. As Suguru and Nanami blow up the phone Gojo left, and there’s an insane amount of calls from Dean Yaga to both of your phones, that go unanswered.

You all are so fucked.

After a long, long wait, they let you bail Satoru out, luckily he had a fuck ton of money in his wallet, because it was hefty, and when he steps out, he is laughing and chit chatting with the cops. They’re patting his back, apologizing for this, and he’s grinning when he finally gets to you.

“Satoru!” You’re in tears, and he picks you up in his arms, hugging you tightly, and the cops clear their throats.

“Let’s go, baby.” Now you’re cleaning Satoru’s wounds in the little hotel bathroom, pulling out different things from the first aid kit.

You gently clean Satoru's face, your trembling hands moving with the gentle precision of a sculptor repairing a cherished masterpiece. Satoru’s beautiful face is a masterpiece, and to see it marred seems so cruel. You’re dabbing on his busted lower lip carefully, before applying antiseptic.

“It might sting.” You murmur apologetically, and he smiles a bit, as his hands sit on the nip of your waist, hands encompassing it.

“I am getting taken care of by the hottest nurse, I’ll not be a little bitch and cry about it.” You snort at that, as his hands now press into your hips, making you melt more and more.

“You’re too positive. Fuck you know what happened…” You exhale, as you continue to wipe him clean, dabbing right on his eye which is swelling a bit. “I’ll get some ice for this.”

“Mmm, you spoil me. Nurse and student fantasies.” You giggle at him, returning with some ice and wrapping a washcloth, placing it on his brow bone.

 His eyes are closed, and his breaths are shallow, but he grips your hips firmly, as if afraid you'll slip away. The room's stark lighting casts stark shadows across his skin, highlighting the raw, red marks where Naoya's knuckles had made contact. The adrenaline rush from the fight has begun to recede, leaving behind a cold wave of fear that now crashes over you,

“I’m scared, Satoru.” You whisper, and Satoru's eyes finally open, meeting yours with a fiery intensity that makes you gasp. He pulls you closer, his grip tightening.

“Don’t be baby girl, I’ll deal with this. I promise, I won’t let it touch you.” He says desperately, and you shake your head, blinking back tears.

“Why don’t you ever worry about you!? Why is it only me!” You’re shaking him by the shoulders, and he lets you, just studying you with heartbreakingly gorgeous eyes.

“I’m rich as fuck, I’ll pay them to keep you at the school.”

“Satoru, what about you!? You’ve done everything to nail him, even losing this damn case, you can’t let this ruin you. Not when you help so many.” You whisper, and now you’re straddling him as he sits at the edge of the tub, and he’s blinking back emotion, his long white lashes dripping with little droplets of tears.

“Who do I help?” His broken voice kills you, you shake your head, gently cupping his cheeks, careful not to hurt him, and he’s gripping your hips bruisingly, as if he never wants to let you go.

“So many people! Satoru you’ve saved lives, you’ve put away murderers-”

“An innocent man!”

“And we’ll get him out! Stop it, you need to know how amazing you are.” He’s crying silently now, you gently brush his tears away, taking a shaky breath. “You’ve saved me in so many ways. You’ve given me arms that make me feel like I’m at home, finally.”

He’s sobbing, resting his head on your chest, and you cling to him, holding him so tightly as he does, his big hands gripping your shirt so tightly you think he’ll rip it right off. Every sob and shake break you internally, as the man you love is so broken, he’s got so much fucking pain.

“I fucked us up too.”

“No! We’ll handle it. We will. Satoru nothing will keep me from this, even if… even if I can’t…”

“Don’t say that, you have to be a lawyer, fuck you’re destined for it. You’re so good baby. I swear to god I won’t let that fuck up.” He looks back to you, and you nod, trembling in his hold as emotions flow, as the little bathroom is suffocating in all the emotion and tension.

“I will do anything for you, Satoru Gojo. Anything.” He picks you up then, moaning, and wincing at the same time. “Satoru, are you okay!?”

“ ‘Tis but a scratch.”

“Did you just quote Monty Python?”

“Good girl.” You giggle, even though it’s fucking insane, even though you are both beyond fucked, even though Satoru just beat up a murderer and everyone knows about you.

Even if your life is ruined, Satoru is here.

Flesh and blood.

“I need you, I need you. Please.” You’re begging as he’s carrying you to the bed, and he exhales, undressing you slowly, unzipping the business skirt you were still wearing, as the moonlight is pouring in through the hotel window. You tremble as he unbuttons your blouse, kissing each inch of exposed skin.

“I’ll give you anything, baby girl.” He murmurs, as your hands are enwrapping in his snowy white hair, so soft in your fingers, and then he’s got you bare aside from a bra and panties. “Beautiful.”

“Oh, Toru…” You’re crying now too, needing him so badly you can’t think, breaths coming quicker when he takes off his shirt, revealing that perfect body. You eagerly run your hands down it, kissing down his chest, until he shoves you down on the bed, right on your back, shaking his head.

“Let me take care of you, baby girl. Please?” He whispers, his eyes dilated so that there’s just a thin blue ring, as his hands caress your sensitive skin, leaving a wake of fire. “Be a good girl f’me, baby?”

“Yes, of course. Of course, Toru. Please.” You whisper, sitting up to undo your bra, letting your breasts bounce out, and he’s groaning, gripping them and squishing them in his hands, kissing down each mound. You cry out at how good it feels when he bites you there, when he squeezes so hard.

“Too rough baby?” You shake your head, and he exhales, kissing around an areola before sucking one of your perky nipples in his mouth, nipping it with his teeth, and your hips buck up at how good it feels. It shoots straight through your tummy, where his hand is sliding down. “I fucking love your body.”

“Th-thank, ah! Toru!” You’re soaking your panties, as he’s slipping his finger down the waistband, moaning when he finds you.

“You’re such a good girl, always so wet f’me baby. Aren’t you?” His voice is hoarse, his finger slipping up and down between your lips, and you’re clutching him so tightly, manicured nails digging in his back, making him hiss. “Yes, fucking mark me, please baby.”

“Toru…” You’re not used to him like this, as his eyes flutter shut over you, and he’s so vulnerable then, so needy, as he whines when you’re finding him over his pants, rubbing. “So hard for me Toru? Show me.”

“Yes baby.” He leans back and takes off his clothes finally, you eagerly go to touch him, feeling his length twitch in your grip, but he shoves you back down, shaking his head. “I need to take care of you.”

“You can do that by fucking my throat?” He groans at that, eyes shutting for a moment, allowing you to look just how beautiful he is as that moonlight hits his alabaster skin.

“You drive me insane. The moment I first looked into your goddamn eyes at that club. No, before, when I saw you just standing there.” You’re blinking rapidly, as he’s taking your panties off, kissing down between your breasts, nipping at the tight skin at your ribcage, and you cry out, growing even wetter as your cunt is exposed to the cool air of the room.

“You did?” You whisper, he looks up with those heartbreaking eyes, nodding and kissing further down, nipping your soft tummy, then even lower, shoving your thighs apart and groaning.

“You didn’t belong there. It’s what I thought. I thought, who is this girl? Why does she make my heart stop?” You’re sobbing, even as much as you’re soaking wet between your thighs, your fucking eyes are too, and you’re arching your back for his hot mouth, as your love grows so much it hurts.

“Satoru, I couldn’t- fuck- stand it when I saw you. You changed everything… at that moment I- ah!” He’s licking your inner thigh, right where it’s at that apex, and you’re shivering at the sensation, then he’s breathing on you, looking up in the night up your body. “I knew I was done for.”

“Knew when I tasted this perfect pussy. When I drank you.” He laps you up then, the way this man devours you, the way he worships you, you can’t stand it, you can’t take it, you’re so close already, you’re shattering with a few flicks of that tongue. He groans against you. “When I saw… those eyes… when you cum…”

“Satoru, please, please. Fuck me. Please.” You beg for him, yanking at his hair now, and he desperately slides up you, as you cup his bruised and cut face, still so beautiful it’s unreal, and you feel that weight on you, feel his body heat pouring through your skin. “Please, Toru. Need you in me.”

“I’ll give you anything.” He shoves inside you then, and you’re screaming, literally screaming at the stretch, at the fill, as your greedy cunt is sucking him right in. “F-fuck, you feel so goddamn perfect, sucking me in s’good.”

“Toru! S’big- ngh I- fucking love your cock, fuck.” He presses on your throat now, squeezing and shoving his cock inside you so deep, to the hilt, you lose oxygen, seeing stars glittering behind your damn eyes.

“Feel me baby girl?” He presses on your stomach then, and you look down, as he moves in and out, seeing a bulge that makes you blush furiously. You just nod, as he still has his other hand on your throat. “Feel me everywhere.”

“I do, Satoru fuck… I do. Everywhere.” You whisper, as he’s choking you tightly, you grip his wrist with one hand, the other clutching to his back, nails digging in again, and he hisses, before pulling back a bit.

“Can you take it hard?” You nod, eagerly, then he exhales, as if he’s been holding back, his consideration touches you, but his cock railing you, ruins you.

“T-T-Toru!” You’re choking out his name, as he’s fucking into you brutally now, as his mad blue eyes dreamily drink your face in, and you lose yourself in them, in Satoru Gojo, as he’s pounding you into the mattress, as he’s taking your breath. You cum so hard you feel like you’re floating, like you’re flying so damn high in the air, and only he brings you back.

Satoru eases his grip on your neck, but now he’s leaning down, pressing one of your thighs up high and fucking even deeper, and you’re close again, already so oversensitive you can’t take it. You’re desperately clinging to his neck, to his shoulders, anywhere and everywhere you can cling to.

“I need… you… forever. Baby. Forever.” He huffs, and his words shock you, as you both had said your love, but…

This is crazy.

Could there be a forever?

You’d do anything to have a forever.

“Yes, Toru, yes… forever. Forever yours. Only you.” You whisper back, your brows drawing together as he’s sweating now, his skin slick as yours is now too, and he’s dripping just a bit, his chest down to your breasts. You’re cumming again, clinging to him so tight, he is groaning as he studies you, so carefully, like you’re the only woman or thing in this world.

“Only me. Only me.” He’s huffing as he works over you, then he’s entwined his hands in yours, your fingers together, and you’re sobbing at how good he feels, as his curved cock drags in your walls. He hisses as they flutter around him, resting his forehead on yours. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you. Toru. You.” Hushed whispers continue, as Toru relentlessly pounds your pussy, and he’s fucking you into another orgasm, you’re so wet you’re slippery, so wet you hear the lewd squishing. He’s kissing you now, his firm lips on yours, uncaring of his cut, he’s brutal in his kiss.

“Mine. Mine to keep. Protect. Fucking breed.” He says now, looking at you manically, and you’re falling off that edge with him, chest heaving, as he’s pressing his hard chests on your lush breasts, as he’s grinding his cock deep against your cervix and you’re screaming out, arching your back.

He’s kissing down your neck now, and you’re shaking violently. “Breed me, Toru, breed me please.”

“Mmm, baby, fuck!” He’s moaning, he’s whimpering, just as you’re whining out pathetically, and he’s grabbing your hips up, shoving in so deep it hurts, but you crave it, your sloppy cunt is milking him as he releases. “Take it baby. Take it.”

“T-Toru! Ngh!” You’re cumming again, as his huge load of thick cum pours in you, and he’s exhaling, his eyes never leaving yours, lidded and fucked out just like your own, as you both whine at how sensitive you are. “Love you. Want your babies.”

“Want em? Want em in you?” You nod, and he keeps pumping that cum in you, clinging to your hands as he’s kissing you, desperately, and you’re gone now, there’s only you and Satoru Gojo.

No world.

You’d do anything for him. Anything to feel this.

Satoru exhales, leaning up a bit, and you frown when you notice he’s busted his lip back open, gently touching it with your thumb. “Fuck I love you.”

“And I love you, Satoru Gojo.” You whisper, and he kisses you again, you both don’t care about the bit of blood, you greedily take his kisses, as he turns you then, pulling you so close against him, clinging to you. “Oh, Satoru…”

“I fucked up shit.” He’s shaking, so you hold him close, shaking your head as you struggle to come down from the climaxes, from the dizzying madness that consumes you, from Satoru Gojo.

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He glares down at you, his jaw tense, so tense you see a vein popping out. You run a finger down it, as your thigh is over his own, as you’re a tangle of limbs in the messy bed. “I’ll never fucking leave you, Satoru.”

“Never!? Promise me please.” He begs now, and you nod eagerly, earning more of his messy kisses.

“How could I? There’s nothing but you.” He’s gripping you so tightly to him you swear you hear your damn ribs creak, like he can’t get you close enough. You snuggle to his big body, as reality sets in on you both. “We are in deep shit though.”

“Deep shit. Quicksand of shit. But guess what?”

“What?” You whisper, looking up at him, your messy hair being brushed back by his sure touch.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

His words hurt you, as you know he literally means anything. “Don’t try to sacrifice yourself for me! We’ll do it together.”

“You’re my everything. There’s nothing without you.” You feel those sticky hot tears returning as he caresses your face, as you feel his erratic heartbeat against your palm. You feel his desperation, his energy, his need, and it matches your own.

“Then keep your fucking self safe too. Okay!?” He doesn’t answer you, he’s just caressing your hair, in gentle strokes, so soothing. “Satoru don’t do anything stupid, please.”

“I already did, didn’t I?”

You glare now, shaking at your worry, at your anger, at your love. “We can fix it, or I’ll go down for it. It’s worth it to be with you.”

“I’ll not let shit get you. Never baby.” He kisses you again, and you’re falling apart and being put back together in this damn hotel room, and you’re just trying to avoid the reality of tomorrow in his strong arms.

Ao3 chap https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/150274354

Chapter 11

[drachenlegend]

Current Era Herrscher Reader x Fire Moth Members

Part 1, Part 2

Synopsis: The CE (Your/Name) is enlisted to World Serpent following a run-in that resulted in their involvement with one of Jackal’s experiments and enters the Elysian Realm. This is probably the final part unless you want to see an epilogue. Also, spoilers for the Chapters 29-31.

The first half will serve as an introduction and as Kevin and Elysia’s parts. The second half will be the other Flame-chasers.

The cold corridors of World Serpent’s base made your skin crawl as you were dragged along the ice-cold floor with a bag over your head and your arms chained behind you with Honkai-suppressing properties. It was a rather medieval experience but certainly not of the ones you were keen on experiencing.

“Now, now. Let’s all take a moment to calm down and-” 

“Oh, shut up already!” One of Jackal’s subordinates smacked you across your face to shut you up, which it did - for a few seconds.

“Come now, friends. Can’t we at least take off the hood? I’m starting to fall asleep here! At least, let me look around!”

“God, they’re so annoying.” The person on your left muttered.

“Relax, we’re almost at the Sire’s throne room.” The person to your right calmed down their friend. “We can leave them there and Lady Jackal will take over from there.”

“I know, I know... Hey, do you think the Sire does anything besides sit on his throne-”

“Both of you, silence.” A woman’s voice shut them both up and made you perk up upon hearing the newcomer approach you while two sets of footsteps went in the other direction. Her heels clicked on the floor and circled around you as you could feel her sizing you up until she stopped behind you. “Get up.” You could feel her warm breath on your ear and shivered slightly but obliged to her command.

“You must be Jackal. Your helpers were lovely company, though I have more reason to believe you’ll be far more charming!” You smile despite the grim situation you found yourself in, finding everything happening around you far too amusing to not enjoy the moment.

Jackal doesn’t say anything to you; she merely pushes you up the stairs and into a large throne room where the temperature had dropped immensely. However, the more important factor was the even more immense power radiating from the person sitting in the throne in the center that was enough to attract your attention.

“Sire. I’ve brought the individual responsible for the stagnation of our operations.”

“Hey, don’t forget your two friends! They did most of the heavy lifting-”

Smack!

“Do not mention those incompetent buffoons.”

“Sorry...”

“...Understood.” The person called “Sire” said and you could tell it was a male’s. “Do they have a name?”

“Of course, Sire. Their name is...” You could hear Jackal calmly shuffling through papers, the calmness of her movements turning agitated as she couldn’t for the life of her find your name.

“Are you sure you’re not the incompetent one?” You inquire in a mock innocent tone, tilting your head at the woman who was seconds away from smacking you again.

“How dare you-”

“Jackal.” The man merely said. “Leave us. You’ve done enough.”

“Y-Yes, Sire...” You heard the disappointment in Jackal’s voice and felt a bit bad for her but your attention went over to the leader of his organization.

“Are you done playing your games, Herrscher?”

You smile and stood up, breaking the chains binding you as if they were made of glass. “Yeah, maybe a little. I’ll save it for Madame Jackal. I also heard that there was a pretty little bird wandering here as well.” Pulling the hood of your head, you were prepared to face an icy stare of a monster but were instead met with a slightly wide eyed stare from a white-haired man who was, for whatever reason, surprised to see your face. “So, you’re this ‘Sire’ that I’ve been hearing a lot about? Hm... That doesn’t sound cool enough. How about ‘Ice Cube?’ Does that sound good?”

“...(Your/Name)?“ You heard him whisper, still taken aback by your appearances, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Huh? You know my name? Who are you, Ice Cube?”

“...” The king of ice shook his head and regained his composure, although, you could see the tiniest crack in his mask. “It is not your business, Herrscher. What matters now,” He stood up from his throne, summoning a mighty greatsword of flames from nowhere and heating up the room. “is what you plan on doing now.”

“Heh, I’m quite confident in my fighting capabilities, Ice Cube.” You smiled and ready yourself for battle. “But, how about this? If I win, I get to walk free and you won’t bother me ever. If you win, then I’ll help you with whatever cult-y things you’re doing.”

The man didn’t say anything and you took his silence as his agreement to the terms. Stretching your body, you prepared to fight-

===

A Few Weeks Later...

===

You totally lost won the fight.

......

Ahem, Kevin didn’t exactly beat you into the dirt like some may have thought but it was more comparable to an older brother scolding their mischievous younger sibling.

Silver lining: you were able to force out of him a terrifying transformation that no one in this era had ever seen before and destroyed around 80% of the main World Serpent base, earning you the animosity of Jackal who had to clean up after you two.

After you woke up, you found the man waiting patiently for you and he introduced himself to you as Kevin Kaslana. That name... It made you feel an odd sense of nostalgia but you couldn’t put your finger on it and he didn’t seem to want to say anything when you pestered him about this. You decided to honor your side of the agreement since you were seeking answers from Kevin.

“Are you focusing on the mission?” Your elder in the World Serpent hierarchy, a woman with short, light gray hair and crimson orbs, shook you out of your reminiscing with her question, mistaking your silence for... window shopping.

“Of course I am, Songbird! It’s just... *sighs* I’m bored.”

“So, you aren’t focusing...”

“C’mon, Songbird. All of this waiting around and spying is booooooring! Let’s go grab something to eat, just me and you, and then we can go back to base together!”

“Pass.” Raven bluntly replied and kept looking through the scope of her sniper rifle, surveying the dull buildings and dark alleyways.

“Why are you so fixated in this Kiana girl anyways? Got a grudge or something?”

“...Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow but before you could comment on it, you received a transmission to return to base.

“Oh, got to go, Songbird. Ice Cube’s calling me back. You fine with staying in Arc City while only having Jackal for company?”

“Is anyone ever fine with that?” Raven remarks as you both chuckle before bidding farewell to each other.

After a long ride back with nothing to do to pass the time, you found yourself outside of the throne room and were (not) surprised to find Kevin waiting for you in his usual stance: arms crossed and eyes closed.

“Yo, Ice Cube!” You shouted, waving a hand at the man when he opened his eyes. There was a tiny inkling of relief in his blue eyes before he snuffed it out as quickly as it had surfaced. “Why’d you call me back?”

“(Your/Name), I think it’s time for you to learn the truth of the Honkai and visit the Elysian Realm.”

“Already?” You raise an eyebrow, having heard of this place from “Songbird” and admitted that you were a tad bit curious about this mysterious location. Though, you weren’t expecting to be sent there this early, considering that Raven had only gone recently after many years of serving World Serpent. “Don’tcha think  you should wait until springing something this important upon me, Ice Cube?”

“You’re... a special case.” You saw the odd look in Kevin’s eyes return and decided to not comment on it as he continued to stare off into space.

“...Soooo, where do I go exactly?”

Kevin snapped out of his sorrowful reminiscing and pointed toward the ominous, dark hallway at the end of the corridor.

“Ah, of course. I should have known that it would be in the creepiest place here... Later, Ice Cube.” You shake your head and waved goodbye. You headed off in the direction that Kevin had indicated, noticing that the only footsteps echoing throughout the hallway was yours. But, when you looked back, he was gone. “How does he keep doing that...?” You thought to yourself and merely shrugged it off for now - there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

Each step you took forward toward the Elysian Realm seemed to make each subsequent step feel even heavier than the previous. You felt a bud of unease growing in your chest the closer you got to those ominously inviting doors.

Placing a hand on the doors, you readied yourself to find what was inside, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, and then kicking the door open with a bright smile.

“Greetings for I, Y/N - the one and only Herrscher of World Serpent, have arrived! No need for applause or cheers!” You waited...and waited for a response but were only met with a dead silence. Anyone could have dropped a needle and you would have heard it.

When you opened your eyes, you found...an empty room.

“Really? No one to greet little ol’ me? Ice Cube’s gonna get a scolding from me...” With an annoyed pout, you venture deeper into this odd place, left with a sour taste in your mouth after this initial disappointment that was soon washed away with the spectacle that was this location.

On your left was a wall stacked with memorials and trinkets from the Previous Era, a minibar, and a small lounge area. Meanwhile, on your right was a set of peculiar tubes with seemingly no significant purpose and a large table with various screens pulled up on the back wall, showing... Well, you didn’t pay much attention to the details in the real world so why would you now?

What really caught your attention was the floating device in the back-center, radiating a strange pink light.

“Hm... I probably shouldn't touch that...”

...

"Oh, who am I kidding?" You press some buttons and, after a bright flash of light, found yourself on a strange platform that looked nothing like the lobby area. However, before you could question your surroundings, Honkai beasts began to emerge from the ground.

With a smirk, you summon your weapon and twirl it.

Back in the lobby, a single Flame-chaser logged in and let out a yawn.

“Hi~! Sorry for being a little late, I wanted to make sure I looked my best for you, newcomer~!” The extroverted woman with pointy ears looked around to see that no one was here. She was a little disappointed but also didn’t mind at the same time.

“Oh, they must be running late as well. I’ll just wait here then~!“ Elysia excitedly sat down on one of the couches and waited patiently...for a couple of minutes...

“Any minute now~!”

A few more minutes pass...

“Any minute now...”

Those few minutes of waiting eventually turn into hours...

“...D-Did I get the day wrong? Kevin wouldn’t lie to me, would he? No, he’s too nice to do that.” Elysia was now curled up into a ball, a rather adorable pout on her face as she struggled to hold back dramatic tears. “Nonono, I made sure to not mess up the date. So, where are they?” 

Elysia sniffed twice before she heard the sound of the portal to the deeper parts of the Elysian Realm open and realized what happened. She quickly wiped her face and returned to her normal, chirpy self in no time.

“Hiii~!” Elysia turned her head to greet the ‘newcomer‘ with her usual bright smile. “Welcome to-” Her eyes widened and her smile faltered when she saw your face and the blood trickling down your face as many emotions and memories overwhelmed her.

“Oh, hey. Do you know where I am?” You casually ask, smiling happily while fixing your clothes that were in tatters after your little “Elysian Realm Test Run.” Your good mood was quickly replaced with confusion when you looked back up to see the elf-eared woman staring straight at you with a shocked expression and tears welling up in her eyes.

“(Y-Your/Name)?” Elysia’s voice cracked when she said your name. She knew that another Y/N would be born in the Current Era and that the one she knew was long gone, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when you said:  

“Do I know you?”

With a forced smile, Elysia shook her head and muttered a soft “No, of course not...”

“Hey, I might not know who you are...” You close the distance between you and her, and cupped her face, wiping her tears away. “But, that doesn’t mean I won’t be concerned when you start to cry after seeing me.”

Elysia smiled at you and grabbed your hands, noting how delicate and smooth they felt. Just then, a strange sensation shot through her and your body, and her eyes widened in shock.

“Y-You’re...”

“Oh, right. I should probably introduce myself anyways even though you already know my name...” Taking a few steps back and pulling your hands away from a frozen-in-place Elysia, you simply bowed. “I am [Your/Name] [Last/Name], this era’s Herrscher of Binding.”

“Oh...” Elysia cupped your face, her eyes sparkling with tears and her smile replaced with a frown - a sight that had never been seen before. “How cruel can fate be? To make you shoulder the burdens of a Herrscher once more...”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Elysia did not answer and simply shook her head before turning away, disabling herself for the time being as she disappeared in a flash of light.

Even if you had no idea what was going on, you still felt a pang of guilt in your chest, followed by a soul-crushing feeling when you remembered Elysia’s face.

You questioned if you should have even came here and decided that perhaps it would be best to leave as things had gone way off course to what you imagined and the mood was ruined.

However, before you stepped back through the door to the real world, you heard the sound of footsteps behind you and turned your head to see Kevin.

“Oh, Ice Cube... When did you get here and why did you even send me here? I don’t mind the extra training from that device back there but I feel like I could get the same results in... What?”

“...” Kevin didn’t say anything and continued to stare at you in a mixture of utter confusion and shock.

You were confused by the surprise on Kevin’s face, wondering why he was making the same expression he had done when you first met him. Then, you felt the power exuding from him.

“Ice Cube, when did you... How did you get this strong in such a short time frame!? You’ve been holding back against me?“

“...No, I believe you’re misunderstanding the situation. Do you not know where you are?” A tilt of the head from you was all he needed to know that, yes, you had no idea where you were. “...(sighs) Follow me.” Kevin merely said and led you over to the lounge area where he would explain the purpose of the Elysian Realm to you.

===

...Timeskip...

===

“I see...” You nodded and gazed at the table in front of you, sitting on the opposite side of the lounge from Kevin. “So, this is where you make your noodles.”

“...Were you even paying attention?”

“Yeah, yeah. This is the place where the memories of the Previous Era’s greatest warriors are stored in the form of simulations - which is what you are - and where I can learn more about them. But, do you have any idea how famous your noodles are in the outside world?“

“Focus, Y/N.” PE Kevin tried to grab your attention but you were well off in your own world.

“I mean, some people at World Serpent worship them more than you-”

“Do you not wish to learn more of what your connection to the Previous Era is? To learn of why the other me and I reacted the way we did?” You didn’t respond but the silence in the lounge spoke louder than words. “Then, I would suggest you explore more and seek out answers.” Kevin recommended to you before making a swift exit.

You stared down at the unopened instant noodles in your hand before sighing to yourself and placing it on the table. “Guess you were always supposed to be good at convincing me then, Ice Cube.” You left the lounge and approached the floating device once more, Kevin’s advice echoing in your mind, followed by a series of questions.

Who was I to these people?

What happened to the PE version of me?

Why did Ice Cube send me here?

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button and closed your eyes as you felt yourself being teleported deeper inside this mysterious place. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself back on the platform with Honkai beast simulations appearing around you and readied yourself to fight your way through this strange world for the answers to the questions plaguing your mind.

The beasts were no match for you and they were annihilated within seconds thanks to your Herrscher powers.

However, now, you found yourself facing three floating mechanisms all with different symbols in the center which wasn’t present the first time. You looked around for a guide, but found none, unaware that the person that was supposed to be your guide through the Elysian Realm had left you in tears and disabled herself for the time being.

However, even without Elysia here, you could tell that the realm was waiting for you to make a choice and your eyes flickered between the gateways before you finally made your choice...

Aponia [III] - Discipline

"You're... No, I know you're not them... And, yet..."

Aponia's special connection to the Elysian Realm allowed her to sense the presence of a Herrscher. However, that didn't mean she knew it was you until you stepped in front of her with the same smile as your predecessor, the same pair of (Eye/Color) orbs gleaming with life, your (Hair/Length) (Hair/Color) hair — everything was the same.

Aponia is normally quiet and her emotions are still like the seas on a windless day, but when you speak with her, you can see straight through her without trouble. Whenever she is around you, she is reminded of the endearing child she once looked after and tries both metaphorically and literally get closer to you, and is heartbroken when you back away.

Eventually, Aponia accepts that you're your own person and stops trying to relive the past through you. However, that doesn't stop the occasion pats on the head that you accept and lingering sorrowful gazes she unknowingly sends your way when you speak with the other Flame-chasers. To humanity, they defeated a Herrscher that day, but to her, she lost her child.

"'Why do I keep following you?' I...am unsure of how to answer that. I know you are your own person. And, yet, I cannot help but make sure you are safe at all times. Perhaps, I wish to take responsibility for that fateful day..."

Eden [IV] - Gold

"Either the Elysian Realm is malfunctioning, or someone installed an update that allows us to hallucinate..." The empty chuckle escaping Eden echoed across the lounge and left a wave of discomfort to wash over you.

Contrary to what Raven and Owl told you beforehand, Eden is far from the elegant idol you were led to believe and more akin to a rambling drunk, but something told you that was in part thanks to you.

Whenever you entered her domain, you always happened upon Eden taking a sip of her wine as she stared off into the distance with a foggy look in her eyes. You weren't sure how a simulation could get tipsy, but that didn't make the sight of her drunk sobs and intoxicated murmurs any less comfortable to sit through.

Eden's unhealthy addiction eases over time and she apologizes for her "unprofessional" showings. She starts to show more of that side that your co-workers mentioned and you begin to see glimpses of the revered, gentle, beloved songstress of the Previous Era. However, no matter how much she tries to hide it, you can still see lingering fragments of sorrow behind her gaze whenever you locked eyes with her.

"I know it is unfair of me to ask this, but... May I ask of you to sing a song with me? It's... the only regret I refused to leave in the Previous Era... You will? Oh, thank you for indulging in this troublesome relic's request."

Vill-V [V] - Helix

"Behold! The brand-new and perfected Kevin Killer Mk. 2000! You should feel honored, Herrscher of the Current Era! For this technology and level of ingenuity has never... never... Y-You... Why are you here?"

The whispers surrounding the holder of the Helix signet told you volumes of her flamboyancy and her domain certainly lived up to your expectations. Vill-V, on the other hand, did not.

From the other Flame-chasers, you've learned about her multiple personalities and the drastic differences between them. Yet, whenever you tried to strike up a conversation with her, you are only met with sadness and a reluctance to converse.

It takes a lot of effort on your end, but eventually the talk you share with her last longer than a few words. They turn to 5 words, 6, words, 7 words, 8 words, then a sentence, several sentences, and before long, you could finally hold a entire conversation with her. After that, it didn't take long for her to show her true self (or selves, in this case) and you two quickly became quick friends, much to both Kevin's annoyance (and slight relief).

"Attention everyone! The greatest magician of all time is here with her new assistant! Prepare to be awed by our spectacular performance!"

Kalpas [VI] - Decimation

"...Are you a trick of the Honkai? Or, are you here just to anger me with your face?"

Kalpas isn't like the others. He knows that the PE (Your/Name) is long dead and the one in front of him now is someone else entirely. However, despite knowing this, the anger burning in his chest whenever his gaze lands on you, forcing him to remember that day, eats away at him without mercy.

Kalpas tries to avoid you whenever possible and you do the same to him, leaving him feeling an odd mixture of both contentedness and annoyance. While you are preoccupied with the trials of the other Flame-chasers, he watches you from afar, along with Sakura.

Even when every data of his simulation fully recognizes you as a Herrscher of the Current Era, it doesn't stop him from falling into the same trap the others were ensnared in: He still saw shadows of the previous (Your/Name) in you.

"...Your technique is too flashy. If I hadn't stepped in, you would have been injured. Go in for the kill next time... Huh? You think I've been watching you this entire time? Don't be absurd. Why would I do that? You trying to pick a fight?!"

And, that was the events that led up to Kalpas being placed in the "naughty boys and girls corner" by Kevin, Elysia, Aponia, and Sakura.

Su [VII] - Bodhi

"...Hm? You... I see... Have you been trapped in this samsara of tragedy, (Your/Name)?"

Su is difficult to read, whether it was intentional on his end or not. A part of you believes that he feels a little melancholic when he "sees" you while the other half wonders if he shared the same relationship to your previous self like his fellow MANTIS.

Su spends much of his time meditating, making it difficult to approach him. He is usually the one who initiates the conversation, which usually ends with you having to sit down to listen to his 3-hour-long spiels.

It is only through Elysia's tutorage, you slowly learn how to read the enlightened individual and realize he does care. It is also through Elysia that you tragically learn Su was the doctor who extensively tried everything he could to save your predecessor, only to end up being the only one there to hold their hand as they passed away.

"...(Your/Name)? Is there something you need- Oh." Su was taken aback when you hugged him out of the blue and didn't quite understand until you whispered a soft, "Thank you for trying until the very end." "...Thank you."

Sakura [VIII] - Setsuna

"A Herrscher? Wait, no. You're..."

After your predecessor's death, the real Sakura never synced with her simulation, leaving the latter blissfully unaware of the tragic fate that befell the PE (Your/Name). When she learns the truth, Sakura is distraught and in shambles. Thankfully, your presence and words are a tremendous help in her recovery, and it doesn't take long for her to bounce back and pick up the pieces on the ground.

Sakura is a gentle, loving soul and frequently goes out of her way to make your stay at the Elysian Realm is the best it can be, which meant she will usually butt heads with Kalpas to a certain extent and Mobius.

Much like Kalpas, Sakura watches over you from afar as you effortlessly cleave through the hordes of Honkai beasts standing in your way. And, also like with Kalpas, there's a small iota of older sibling's pride blooming in her chest when she sees your strength.

"Even though you're not the (your/Name) I knew, I can't help but feel content with knowing you've grown into a capable warrior... I... I only wish Rin was here to see you too."

Kosma [IX] and Griseo [XI] - Daybreak and Stars

"(Y-Your/Name)?" Kosma muttered, his harmonica falling to the floor as so did Griseo's brush.

By now, you believed you were more than accustomed to the reactions of the Flame-chasers upon seeing your face. Soon, you were proven wrong when you felt Griseo's little arms try to wrap around your waist as she bawled loudly while Kosma held back, instead choosing to gawk at you from afar.

Every moment you spent in the Elysian Realm from that point onward was with Griseo and Kosma trailing behind you like two baby ducklings following their mother, which you didn't mind. Of course, everyone knew they were thousands of years older than you, but that didn't stop the giggles and laughs from the onlookers.

The painting world Griseo frequented was vibrant and humming with life whenever you visited and the tunes coming from Kosma's harmonica sounded more cheerful as he listened to you paint together.

"...Stay safe."

"Come over again tomorrow...please."

Mobius [X] - Infinity

"Hmph. When I saw Elysia disable herself for an entire day, I knew something was wrong."

Much like Kalpas, Mobius knows you're not the PE (Your/Name) and isn't so welcoming like the other Flame-chasers, so expect to be met with hostility and venom as she lives up to the Honkai beast she infused herself with.

The portals leading to her domain are extremely rare to come across, which, to her annoyance, meant you would take it every time to visit her laboratory. Her dislike for you is crystal clear but your curiosity for how she felt about your predecessor spurred you on to remain by her side.

Mobius does a well enough job to hide her feelings and it takes you a longer time to decipher her true feelings. It is only thanks to the pieces of information you gathered from conversations with the other Flame-chasers and Klein do you finally can say you can began to understand Mobius with confidence.

"Hm? Oh, it's you... 'Do I miss the previous (Your/Name)?' How foolish. What makes you think... Oh, I see now. Klein and others fed you this foolish notion that I missed them, haven't they? If you wish to pass my trials, then you'd best learn to filter out the false lies from the riffraff." Mobius tells you with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, where you can see the tiniest fragments of sadness locked behind the vault of her simulation programming.

Hua [XII] - Vicissitude

"The Honkai... It has already taken so much from me, including the person who shares the same face as you. Tell me, or you an enemy or a friend?"

Hua tries to put up a tough exterior, but the cracks of her mask make themselves known before she could even finish her question as you slowly bring her into a small hug like you did with Su.

There were some moments that Hua chose to forget via Fenghuang Down but the moments she spent with the PE (Your/Name), from the first meeting to their death, remained with her all these years. Therefore, it is imperative to let her take her time in getting used to seeing your face again.

Back in the Previous Era, besides the other Flame-chasers, Hua wasn't too experienced with making friends and that made your friendship all the more special to her. Hua follows you around the Elysian Realm like with Kosma and Griseo, but unlike them, knows when to give you space, specifically when you underwent a trial.

Hua is ashamed to admit that she is jealous of the real her once she learns that she is alive thanks to you. She wishes to fly high and experience the fresh air of the Current Era, but doesn't mind listening to your stores and seeing it through your lenses.

"This necklace... It... It belonged to the previous you. I know it is unfair of me to ask this, but... Can I ask you to take care of it for me?"

Pardofelis [XIII] - Reverie

"...Huh? Huh? Huh?! (Your/Name), is that you?! Oh, I knew all these years of throwing coins in the fountain would pay off!"

It takes a lot of effort to get out of the bear hug she ensnared you in but eventually, you manage to sit her down and explain who you were, earning a soft "...Oh."

Surprisingly, she doesn't dwell too long on her mistake and bounces back to her usual happy-go-lucky self. She treats you no different than she would if you were the Previous (Your/Name) while also acknowledging you were your own person which was a nice change of pace.

Purchasing items from her shop still costs you money—don't get it twisted. But, at least they were all between 50% to 100% off, so there's nothing complain about...right?

Pardofelis and, by extension, Can always greet you with a cheerful smile and hug you tightly. It sorta reminded you when you were younger and had look after two of your neighbor's cats. Heck, they even purr when you scratch them under the chin.

"Hey, (Your/Name)! I got some new things in the shop today! Whaddaya say to these bad boys I nabbed from Big Sis Snake's room?...Huh? She's looking for m-me? Uh... A-Actually, I have a favor! Can you return these for me, h-hahaha..."

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 29 || The Confessions

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, & angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE WORRY YOU EXPERIENCED WAS unnecessary though and the night goes entirely different than you expect it to. Who knew you'd have to be more worried about Gojo rather than the dress you wore...

The two of you were quick to part ways once you were inside, him taking a seat at a table decently far from the bar while you took your place there. Your back was to the man the entire night and he even wore these stupid glasses that made him look like one of the three blind mice.

You teased him about it for a while but he simply ignored you, claiming that he needed the eyewear to look inconspicuous.

So now you sat at the bar alone, glancing around for a specific blonde-haired male who was supposed to be there somewhere.

You waited and waited, ordering a drink or two while you were at it. Time flew by and as you waited, you'd look back to where Gojo was and send him a questioning look, silently asking where the hell Nanami was.

Gojo would shoot you a text saying he has no idea and you'd roll your eyes at him. A few minutes of waiting turned into thirty, then an hour, then two.

By that time, you were annoyed that of all the people you'd been watching the entire time, not one of them was Nanami Kento. Before you could send Gojo your millionth glare of the night, an arm was slung over your shoulder and his voice was in your ear.

"Don't cuss me out but..." Gojo murmured cautiously, "I just found out he actually comes here every other Friday night..."

Your eye twitches, "Tell me you're joking."

"I'm sorry sweets," Gojo says, chuckling a little as he pulls away from your ear.

You turn your head to face him with a glare, "I've been sitting here waiting for two whole hours because of you."

"I'm sorry, truly." He apologizes softly, "Lemme' make it up to you."

A brow is raised, "How?"

Gojo nods his head over to the dance floor, "With my amazing dancing skills," He offers enthusiastically, "That way your night won't be completely wasted!"

"No." You decline flatly.

The man pouts, "Oh c'monnnn, just one dance? I promise you'll feel better after."

With a heavy sigh, you move his arm off your shoulder and turn to slip out of your chair. For a moment, Gojo keeps pouting, assuming that you're rejecting him again before a hand goes to his tie and you drag him toward the dance floor.

He stumbles after you for a moment and then smiles happily when he realizes where you're taking him. The second your foot hits the dancefloor, an arm goes around your waist and you're spun around to meet Gojo's face before you even realize it.

He pulls you in close and he's got this gushing smile on his face even though you're still glaring at him. Gojo slides a hand to one of yours, forcing it up and around his neck and then following suit with your other hand.

"This isn't the kind of dancing I thought you meant," You tell him quietly.

There are a few other people dancing around the two of you, all of which appear to be couples.

"Gotta' fit in with everyone else, love," Gojo says, slowly swaying to the gentle music in the background just like those around you.

You sigh heavily, "This doesn't make up for anything."

"Then what will?" He asks, "I really didn't mean to waste your night like this."

You shrug in response to him.

There's this piano being played in the background and the whole dancing situation feels all too romantic.

You didn't like it at first but as Gojo continued to dance with you, easing your body closer and closer to his own, you slowly started to enjoy it-- even if only a little.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

At some point, both his arms are wrapped around your waist and yours are comfortably up around his neck. You keep trying to avoid his eyes but it was impossible with the way he just stared at you as you slow danced.

When you do look at him, you move a hand to take those ridiculous glasses off his face.

Gojo smiles when his eyes meet your own unobstructed, the sight of his happy expression melting your heart in indescribable ways. You take his glasses and tuck them down into one of his pockets before bringing your hand back up.

"Told' you they looked stupid," You try to explain your actions so you don't seem weird.

He hums, "I thought they looked pretty cool..."

You simply shake your head at him and return to focusing on your dancing, swaying gently as the piano has long since stopped playing, and now a radio of songs is what's guided people to dance. There were a few songs that made you want to stop dancing, especially when Choso popped into your mind at one point.

Gojo notices the distant look in your eyes and tilts his head at you, "What's wrong?"

You shake your head, "Nothing-"

"Don't lie to me, I can tell something's on your mind," He interrupts, moving to give you a slow twirl before pulling you back into his body, "What're you thinking about?"

You avoid looking him in the eyes, "Someone else."

"Oh wow, thinking of another guy while you're dancing with me?" He utters playfully, trying to lighten your mood.

You chuckle but his words hold the truth, "Yes, actually."

"Choso?" Gojo asks.

The way you're still avoiding his eyes tells him everything he needs to know. For a moment, he doesn't say anything and neither do you. You two just keep dancing as the song playing changes.

There's this mellow beat that flows into your ears, a song titled Old Love by yuji & putri dahlia. It's a beautiful song and it makes the moment of you slow dancing with Gojo all the more unnecessarily romantic.

You rest your head against the crook of his neck and Gojo lets out a sigh. There's no reason why you should even be dancing with this man still but you didn't exactly want to stop.

Gojo starts thinking back to the song that played a few minutes before the current, "Y'know, earlier... I was uh, I was thinking about you and him while that one song played," He says suddenly.

You grin, "What song?"

"Slow dancing in the dark," He explains, "I think the artist is named Joji... Ever heard of it before?"

You move away from his neck and meet his eyes, "I mean it just played not that long ago so, yeah."

He chuckles, "I mean before today, sweetheart."

"Uhh... Once before, yeah," You shrug a little. Then, you narrow your eyes at him, "Why'd that song make you think about me and Choso?"

"Well, did you hear the lyrics?" Gojo sighs.

"I did," You hum, "But I don't get how it relates to me and Choso..."

The man you're dancing with sighs heavily and his eyes dart off to the side, "Do you know what the song is about?"

"Uh, a failing relationship, I believe..." You murmur, not one hundred percent sure.

"Yeah," He agrees.

You raise a brow immediately, "Are you saying me and Choso are gonna fail?"

"No," Gojo chuckles, "The overall meaning of the song applies more to me and you, even though we're not in a relationship."

You blink and simply listen to his explanation.

"That one part where the song is all, you should be with him, I can't compete." Gojo quotes, "That uh... That made me think of you and Choso I guess."

"Is that how you feel?" The question that leaves your lips makes him tense up, his eyes carefully falling on yours once more.

Gojo gazes at you in thought for a long moment before saying, "Might' be a little cliche but, yeah."

"So you actually think like that?" You ask softly, "You wholeheartedly think I should be with Choso and not you?"

"Well..." He trails off.

His explanation fails to find his tongue, words floating around in his brain as he tries to come up with a good way to answer your question.

"Do I think you should be with him, yes." Gojo eventually gets out. "Would I rather you be with me, of course."

The look in your eyes softens, "This whole thing is hard for you, isn't it?"

His voice gets caught in his throat for just a second, "Wh-What?"

"I mean, having to know that once the list is over..." Your gaze drops down a little, "You're supposed to help me get with Choso. Doesn't... Doesn't that hurt you?"

Gojo feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he processes your question. Of course it hurts him, not that he wants to express that to you though.

"Nah," Gojo lies, chuckling loosely, "I'll be fine-"

"You're lying." You cut off, your voice gentle, "You can't tell me that helping the woman you love get with another man doesn't hurt you."

"So what if it does?" He shrugs, "S'long as you're happy, I'll be fine."

The air goes somber, the looks exchanged between the two of you filled with all different kinds of emotions.

"That's so toxic," You scoff, turning your head away.

"How? I'm putting my feelings aside for your happiness, what's wrong with that?" He questions.

"Everything," You try to emphasize the importance behind what he's doing as best as you can, "You're just gonna put aside your love for me so that I can be happy? That's terrible. You may be an asshole but... to a certain extent, you don't deserve that-"

"So what do I deserve then?" Gojo breathes out, his voice dipping down into something almost hurt, "Tell me my love, what is it you think I, as your blackmailer, deserve?"

You swallow down a heap of emotions, "A better situation," You say.

He tilts his head as he peers down at you. Even without your eyes on his, you can feel how emotional his gaze is, "And what better situation is there for me that doesn't involve you?"

The strings of your heart are once again being tugged on, this one more aggressive than the last. You can't help but shut your eyes for a moment and shake your head in disbelief.

"Maybe one where you're not blackmailing me," You whisper, still avoiding his eyes. "Perhaps then, and only then, would you have experienced the joy that is having your love reciprocated."

Gojo starts chuckling at your claims, almost as if it's untrue. "Sweetheart, there is no greater joy for me than loving you, even if it's not reciprocated."

You finally brought your gaze to his and it was as though time froze. Dislike courses through you at the way the moment became so intimate, so personal. The way your eyes flick back and forth between his left and right as you search for some sense of focus, trying to still the rapid thoughts in your mind, doesn't go unnoticed.

"That isn't joy, Satoru." You murmur to him, "That's misery."

"It's not," He argues.

"Loving someone so deeply and having it constantly ignored can't be joyful." You explain simply.

Gojo laughs, "You don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"How deep it goes."

"Tell me then," You request, your eyes never leaving his blue ones.

Gojo rests his forehead against yours, "Tell you how deep my love goes? Sweets, we'll be standing here all night-"

"I don't care," You tell him, "I'll never be able to wrap my head around why you love me if you don't explain it to me."

His lashes flutter into a slow blink, surprised to hear that you don't understand the way he feels for a second time that day. Has he not made it clear enough? Do his actions truly not speak louder than his words? He supposes they don't, seeing as his actions merely contradict those intimate claims of his.

"I love you for a lot of reasons," Gojo starts off, his voice completely open and vulnerable to you as he begins to express himself. "It wasn't a love at first sight kinda' thing or anything but I have felt this for a long time."

"Even before the list?" You ask.

"Mhm," Gojo hums, smiling a little as he recalls the moment, "I think I fell in love with your voice first."

"M-My voice?" You gasp, chuckling a little at how he'd fall for such a ridiculous thing.

"Yes, your voice." He continues, "I even remember the first thing you ever said to me."

"Hi?" You say, mocking your past self.

"No," Gojo goes to correct you, "It was actually 'let me know if you need anything'," He quotes.

Your brows furrow, "That was the first thing I ever said to you??"

"Yeah," Gojo chuckles a little, "You didn't say hi when we were introduced to each other, you just waved at me."

"Did I really?" Your eyes widen, "Oh my god that's so embarrassing..."

"It was cute." He snickers.

You visibly cringe, "No it wasn't, why the hell didn't I just say hi...?"

He shrugs, "You were shy."

"Did you say hi?"

"Nope."

For some reason, you feel like you couldn't even remember the day you met him. It was earlier that year, during the summer when you first moved in with Shoko but you don't remember the day exactly.

"Wait really?" You ask in suprise.

"Yep, Shoko just said 'Gojo this is my roomate, roomie, this is Gojo' and called it a day." Gojo recalls flawlessly, shrugging a little, "Then, you spoke to me for the first time later that day when you ran into me in the kitchen."

You raise a brow, "And you mean to tell me that's what you fell in love with?"

"Yes ma'am." Gojo says confidently, "Your voice made me feel all giggly inside."

"You're joking."

"I'm serious," He laughs, "Ask Suguru."

"He'll lie to take up for you."

"Not true..." Gojo pouts.

You shake your head at him, "Anyways, keep explaining why you love me because so far you've just explained how you experienced love at first sound."

Gojo laughs at your words, the sound oddly comforting. "That's exactly what it was too. Wish' I talked to you more back then."

"Think things would be different now?" You ask curiously.

"Mmmh... Maybe," Gojo shrugs. "But who knows."

He then goes to continue his explanation of why he loves you.

"Anyways, I really mean it when I say I love everything about you." Gojo proceeds, "The first time I heard you laugh I think I was on cloud nine."

"So you just love the sounds I make then?" You scoff, raising a brow in question.

"I mean I love your face too, you make the cutest expressions-- especially when you're all pouty about something." He rambles, a beautiful shade of happiness reflected within his features as he expresses his thoughts.

You smirk a bit, "Yeah?"

Gojo chuckles, "Oh and when you do that, god that's so fuckin' sexy."

There's this constant smile on your face for some reason, your brows furrowing at his words, "Me saying yeah?"

"Yes." He sighs, "Or like when you get this tone with me that makes me feel kinda' small? Not in a demeaning or belittling way but it's like you're talking to a lost puppy and I dunno," Gojo shrugs, "I just fall for it."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Literally any time you've asked me if I needed help with something."

"Oh..." You hum, recalling past times, "Well that's because you were acting like you couldn't find anything in my apartment..."

"I couldn't."

"Whatever."

"Your smile," Gojo points out, "I'd kill to see it on you forever."

You giggle, "Murder is a bit excessive, no?"

"Is it?" He questions casually.

"Yes, Satoru."

Gojo moves to twirl you around again in sync with whatever song's playing now, "I meant it when I said I'd do anything for you."

You follow his motions and then end up right back in his arms, "Right..."

"I'd sacrifice the very thing I love just to see you happy." Gojo claims proudly.

You scoff, "Thought' I was the thing you loved?"

"You are."

His words bewilder you, "Then that makes no sense."

"It won't." Gojo shrugs.

"You're so confusing," You point out to him with a sigh, "I'll never understand you."

"I don't seek understanding from you, love." He voices out in a soft tone.

You arch a curious brow, "Then what do you seek?"

"From you?" Gojo smiles, the sight making him appear peaceful, "Simply seeing you happy, that's all."

"Then, logically speaking, wouldn't dropping this stupid list make me happy?"

"You may think it'd make you happy but..." He trails off, losing himseld to his thoughts, "N-Nevermind-"

That was odd. How else are you supposed to view freedom from the list if not blissful? What is he not telling you?

"No, what is it?" You push further.

"Nothing."

A frown takes over your features, "You're lying."

"I can't tell you." Gojo results in saying.

"Why?"

"Because I just can't."

You hate how he doesn't explain himself, wishing that just for one moment he'd let you into the mess that is his brain. "Everyday you only confuse me more, you know that right?" You tell the man.

Gojo's eyes are gentle on yours, "In due time you'll find clarity when you think about me."

"Will I?" Your tone is soft, the moment of tranquility between you two never subsiding.

He glances away for only a second, "I hope so."

You think you can live with that so all you hum is a simple, "Okay..."

After which, you and Gojo continue your slow dance. It's all too romantic but you've still yet to grow the desire to stop. You guess he was right about this making up for the two hours you wasted.

"Can I ask you something now?" Gojo suddenly questions, his eyes now back on you.

"Sure." You reply, your fingers moving to play with the lowest strands of hair on the back of his head.

He finds himself relaxed under your touch but his mind and heart are so anxious, "Is there anything you love about me?"

You scoff obnoxiously, "Love? About you? That's a strong word, Satoru..."

His brain freezes for a moment. Gojo takes his time processing what you've just said before uttering, "You didn't say no."

"I..." You catch yourself stammering, unknowingly glancing down at his lips and losing yourself in thought before finally answering him, "N-No, there's nothing I-"

"What is it?" Gojo cuts off, seeing straight through you.

"There's nothing." A lie, there is one thing and you hate yourself for adoring it the way you do.

He scoffs, "There's something, I know it."

"There's not one thing I love about you, Satoru." Another lie, you can never get over the feeling of his lips on yours, "Like, maybe. But Love? I..." Your words fade for a moment, "I don't feel that emotion for you whatsoever-"

"Liar." Gojo cuts off yet again, he's persistent with getting it out of you.

"What would I possibly love about you?" You ask, playing dumb.

He shrugs, "I dunno, you tell me."

"I hate you," You say, tone void of ill emotion, "Did you forget?"

"I'll never forget that." Gojo responds, voice soft but passionate, "But you can hate me and still love one thing about me. Whether it's something I say or do, you're allowed to love something about me, there's no crime in it."

You get quiet for a long moment, simply staring up into his eyes. After which, you look off to the side. Love is such a strong emotion and you hate to feel such a thing for something that Gojo does.

"There's nothing." You result in saying yet again.

"Not even my looks?" He asks.

"Nope-"

Gojo grows frustrated with you and tips his head into the direction you're looking in, trying to get your eyes back on his, "So what is it?"

You sigh heavily, "It's noth-"

"You stuttered the first time I asked and I saw the way you looked at my lips," He points out, "What is it that you love about me?"

"Nothing, Satoru." You sigh, pleading for him to leave you alone already.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Please?" He begs.

You remain stern, "No."

He's got part of his answer, "So there really is something?"

You don't reply.

"I fucking knew it." That fuels him to a new degree and you feel his arms grow tighter around your waist, "What is it? Tell me please, I won't stop asking until you do."

"Keep asking then." You murmur.

"I will." Gojo says, having no plans on letting it go now, "Tell me. What is it that you love about me? What do I do that makes your heart race?"

That question can be so simply answered. His kisses-- it's the one thing that's always made your heartbeat pound against your chest to a new degree.

"What about me makes you go weak in the knees?" Gojo continues, his voice lowering into something desperate, "Tell me, sweetheart. Please."

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, "I'm not telling you."

You shouldn't be experiencing such an emotion anyways, it's wrong.

"What is it?" Gojo pleads, his voice so utterly desperate that it makes you feel weird.

You groan, "Nothi-"

"My touch?" He asks.

"What? No-"

Gojo keeps questioning you, "The way I look at you?"

"No."

"My voice?"

"No."

"My confessions?"

"No."

He sighs, "Then just tell me."

"No." You repeat.

"Please? I'll do anything," Gojo's voice almost breaks? It's nearly a whine the way he pleads you, almost like he can't go on without knowing what it is you love about him, "Just tell me what it is and I'll leave you alo-"

"The way you kiss me." You finally blurt out.

Silence.

It envelopes the two of you completely.

Your eyes are everywhere except his and he feels like he can't even breathe properly.

Did he hear you correctly? The way he what? Kisses you? You love that about him? Damn is his heart about to fall out his chest.

"Wh-What?" Gojo breathes out, his eyes are so wide, almost even teary. "T-The way I what?"

Your voice is barely audible, "The way you k-kiss me, Satoru..."

He blinks.

You repeated it and his entire body just felt warm. He's never experienced an emotion to this degree. What is this? Is this what it's like to have his feelings reciprocated? Even if only a little...

He's just staring at you, eyeing your flushed face, seeing how embarrassed you are, and feeling the slight nervous tremble in your body. Gojo was infatuated, taken over with thoughts and emotions of you.

He couldn't even breathe properly. His mind was running rampant, his heart was throbbing so violently in his chest, and he thought he was sweating. Chills ran up his spine as he replayed those words you just uttered.

And the emotions he experienced got no better when you carefully dragged your eyes up to his.

Time had stopped, nothing else in the world mattered except for you and Gojo physically couldn't help himself.

You watch the way his eyes go glossy and he pulls you impossibly closer to him, his face nearing yours. Was he on the verge of tears?

"I'll never do anything else then," Gojo whispers, his voice sounding almost distraught yet whole at the same time.

His head tilts to the side and your brows furrow, "Wha-"

It happens. His lips are on yours before you have another moment to process.

It was so sweet too, his lips impossibly softer than ever. You couldn't think straight anymore as his lips moved over yours, feeling your body melt into his arms.

The man's overwhelming love for you engulfed all of his senses and he nearly lost his mind-- his kissing growing eager as his tongue pushed into your mouth.

You gasp, "S-Satoru-"

He wouldn't even let you speak, beginning to walk you backwards and off the dance floor. You stumbled against his body, your lips slipping over his as he released a sweet little whine into your mouth.

Your hands slid down from around his neck and to his arms, trying to brace yourself for his sudden aggressiveness. You didn't fight with the kiss but you were definitely surprised when you heard a wolf-whistle from someone nearby, followed by your ass lifting onto a table slightly.

When did you get this far off the dancefloor?

Gojo's hands were all over you. They went from your back to your legs, sliding along your thighs and feeling you against his palms. All as you lost your breath within the heated kiss you shared with him.

You heard a chuckle, followed by a 'what a beautiful couple' comment from some older woman-- the sound making you move a hand to Gojo's chest to try and push him away for a second.

Instead of pushing him away, your hand simply flattened on his chest as he sucked on your lower lip and then slid his tongue right back into your mouth. Soft smacks could be heard coming from your lips and you hated how public the sight was.

"Sat-, hah... S-Satoru, please-," You uttered against his mouth, to which he simply groaned against you.

You should've never told him you loved his kisses.

The man moved his hands under your thighs and then he moved to wrap your legs around his waist, then lifted you up.

"I love you," Gojo breathes, just barely, into your mouth. It's almost a groan the way his voice leaves him, his mouth devouring your own eagerly.

Your heart is so heavy as you simply kiss him back, feeling your body being carried off somewhere else. Gojo was so passionate with the way he kissed you, almost as though he feared you'd slip away from his grasp at any given moment.

You don't know where he was carrying you to and you think you stopped caring at some point.

You truly did love kissing Gojo Satoru, despite the conflict that follows feeling such a dangerous emotion toward such a simple action. You loved it regardless.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 17

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : (This is the longest chapter so far, 5.2k words, warnings will contain spoilers!!) MDNI, angst, fluff, tension, slight arguing, cheating (dont do this) smut, p in v (protected!), guilt, also not fully proof read ill do that when I wake up in the morning lol

After a few more moments of soaking in the thrill of the evening, it was time to leave the rink. The cold air had seeped through our clothes, and the exhilaration of skating had left us both pleasantly tired. As we slowly made our way to the edge of the rink, I couldn’t help but glance back at the ice one last time. It had been years since I felt so alive, so connected to something I loved, with someone who was becoming more special to me with every passing moment.

Matt reached the edge first, turning around to offer me his hand as I approached. I took it without hesitation, his warmth cutting through the chill in the air. We stepped off the ice and walked over to the benches to change out of our skates. As we sat down, the silence between us was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that tonight had been something special. I unlaced my skates, my fingers still tingling from the cold, and slipped back into my shoes. Matt did the same, occasionally glancing over at me with that easygoing smile that made my heart skip a beat.

Once we were both ready, we gathered our things and headed for the exit. The rink was eerily quiet now, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly through the empty space. As we reached the doors, Matt paused, as I turned to look at him with a playful glint in my eyes.

"Can I just say, I’m amazed with how good you are on the ice" I teased. "You’ve set the bar pretty high for our next hangout."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, so now there’s a bar I have to maintain? I see how it is."

I grinned, as Matt held the door open for me as we stepped out into the cool night air. "Well, you’ve definitely got me curious about what else you can do."

The parking lot was almost empty, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cars. We walked toward his car, the quietness of the night making everything feel special.

As we reached his car, Matt opened the door for me, his hand lingering on the frame as he looked at me. For a moment, we just stood there, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever. Then, with a soft smile, I slid into the passenger seat, and Matt closed the door behind me. He walked around to the driver’s side, and got in. As he started the engine, the car hummed to life, and we pulled out of the parking lot. The drive back was quieter than the drive there, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Instead, it was the kind of silence that felt full, heavy with the memories of the night and the growing connection between us. Every now and then, Matt would glance over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

He finally broke the silence, his voice soft “I honestly think you should get back into skating Y/n."

I laughed, turning to face him. "No I can't, it's too late now, I’ve missed the opportunity."

"It’s never too late, and from what I witnessed earlier on you still have it, it comes so naturally to you." He replied, his tone sincere. "Even I felt like I learned a lot from you, maybe I’ll become a figure skater now. You know, give you a run for your money."

"Ha, I’d like to see that" I said, rolling my eyes but smiling. "But seriously, it was really fun. I haven’t felt that free in a long time."

"I’m glad" he said, his eyes flickering toward me briefly before focusing back on the road. "You deserve to feel like that more often."

We fell into another easy silence, the sound of the road beneath us and the faint beat of music playing softly in the background. The city lights blurred past, and I found myself lost in thought, the events of the night replaying in my mind.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up to my apartment building. Matt slowed the car to a stop in front, the engine idling softly. He turned to me, his expression softer, more thoughtful now.

"I really enjoyed tonight, Y/n" he said, his voice low. "It was.. special."

"Yeah, it was.." I agreed, my heart beating a little faster as I looked at him. There was something in the air between us, a tension that had been building all night. Part of me wanted to close the gap, to see what it would be like to kiss him, to let this connection go where it felt like it wanted to.

But before I could act on the thought, the car’s dashboard lit up with an incoming call. A serious sense of deja vu running through my body. Emily’s name flashed across the screen, and just like that, the moment shattered.

I blinked, the reality of everything crashing back into place. I knew I was breaking up with Alex, but to him, the relationship wasn’t over yet. He was clueless about what was coming, about what he had done to push me away, and the fact that I know what he’s done. As for Matt, things were different. He didn’t know about Emily’s betrayal, how she had basically ended their relationship with what she did with Alex.

Matt glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. He ignored the call, but seconds later, it rang again, Emily’s name glaring at us from the dashboard. I took it as a sign, a reminder that whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

"I should go.." I said softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

Matt looked at me, something unspoken passing between us, but he nodded. "Okay" he replied, his voice laced with disappointment. "Goodnight, Y/n.”

"Goodnight, Matt" I said, giving him a small smile before I opened the door and slid out of the car. I paused for a moment, looking back at him as he finally answered the phone. His voice was low, and I could hear the tension in his tone as he spoke to Emily.

I turned away, walking up the steps to my apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. The night had been perfect, almost magical, but it ended on a note that brought me right back to reality. As I reached my door, I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if things were different, if we were both free to explore whatever this was between us without the shadows of our current situations looming over us.

But for now, all I could do was disappear into the night, leaving Matt to deal with his own tangled mess as I tried to untangle mine.

Matt's POV

Standing outside Y/n’s door, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. I hadn’t planned on showing up unannounced, but after yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I wanted to do something special, something that she loved, like skating. When she opened the door, I couldn’t help but smile at the surprise on her face.

“Hey, sorry for just appearing.. Are you free for the night?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my heart was racing.

She stood there, clearly debating whether to mention something, maybe that she already had plans. But before she could respond, I knew I had ro say something else, I really wanted the plans I’d made to happen, “I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

I could see the curiosity spark in her eyes as she nodded. I felt a surge of relief. This was going to be good.

In the car, she kept asking where we were going, but I just grinned and told her my lips were sealed. When I mentioned it would be an hour's drive, she looked at me like I was crazy, but the way she smiled told me she didn’t mind. I suggested she jump on aux, and soon we were caught up in a back and forth of sharing songs. Each song she played gave me a glimpse into her world, her taste, and it felt like we were connecting on a level I hadn’t expected.

When she saw the sign for LA Kings Valley Ice Centre, the way her eyes lit up was worth every second of planning.

“We’re going skating?” she asked, clearly excited.

I nodded, feeling a bit proud of myself. “I was serious when I said I wanted to learn how to spin.”

Her excitement was contagious. “This is where I used to go to skate school,” she said, and I could hear the nostalgia in her voice. She kept thanking me, but honestly, seeing her this happy was thanks enough. 

Renting the place wasn’t an issue to me, I wanted to make sure it was just us there. The look of surprise and gratitude on her face made me feel like I’d done something right. Something she needed.

We laced up our skates and hit the ice. I could tell she was expecting me to be a total mess out there, but when I glided smoothly beside her, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Woah, you can skate?” she asked.

“Played hockey for years” I replied with a grin, enjoying the way she looked at me, maybe seeing me in a different light.

She teased me about my skating skills, so naturally, we decided to race. We lined up at one end of the rink, and I couldn’t help but notice how she looked - confident, poised, and honestly, really attractive. We took off, laughing as we pushed ourselves to go faster. She won, of course, but it didn’t matter. The way she laughed as she reached the other end made me feel like I’d won something else entirely.

After the race, she finally started to teach me how to spin. I watched closely as she walked me through the steps, focusing on her movements, her voice. When I tried it myself, I was nervous, I wanted to impress her and honestly, I wasn’t half bad, but nothing compared to the way she moved. When she started doing her old moves, I was in awe. She still had it, the grace, the skill. It was mesmerizing to watch.

I couldn’t stop watching her, how she has so much potential with skating, how it looked like she’d never stopped doing it, I was in absolute awe. The connection between us grew with every moment we spent on that ice. I didn’t want the night to end, but eventually, we had to leave.

On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was different, calmer, more intimate. We talked about the night, about how much fun it was, I really want to push her to skate again. I wished I could erase the day she ever stopped doing it because I can see what those few hours meant for her. I could feel the tension building again, like it had when we were at the rink. I kept glancing at her, wondering if she was feeling the same way I was.

As we pulled up to her apartment, I felt this urge to kiss her, to see if what I was feeling was real. We sat there for a moment, talking, and I could tell she was thinking about it too. But then my phone lit up with a call from Emily, and the moment was gone.

I cursed under my breath as I saw her name flash on the screen. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I ignored the call, hoping we could get back to where we were, but she called again. I could see the shift in Y/n, the way she pulled back slightly, the way reality crashed back down on both of us.

She opened the passenger door, giving me a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes, and said goodnight. I wanted to stop her, to tell her that this wasn’t the end of the night I wanted, but I couldn’t find the words.

I watched her disappear into her apartment, the weight of everything settling on my shoulders as I finally answered Emily’s call, her voice came through loud and clear. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you, Matt.”

I sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I was driving, my phone wasn’t connected properly. Didn’t think it was safe to answer while I was on the road.”

“Driving where? You didn’t mention going anywhere tonight.”

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get into the details with her. “Just out, needed some air.”

She huffed on the other end, clearly not satisfied with my vague response. “Have you been speaking to Y/n at all? Alex said she’s been really short with him, and he hasn’t heard from her in hours. He’s starting to lose it.”

I felt a twist in my gut. I wasn’t going to lie fully about being around Y/n this time, only hiding the parts I needed to. “Yeah, I talked to her. But why is he losing it? They’re still together, right?”

Emily scoffed, her tone laced with venom. “Barely. She treats him like shit, Matt. It’s no wonder he’s upset. She’s always so distant, like she couldn’t care less about him. And now, she’s ignoring him while he’s on the other side of the world? That’s just selfish.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling my patience wearing thin. “That’s not fair, Emily. You don’t know what’s going on between them. It seems Y/n’s been dealing with a lot lately, and maybe she just needs some space.”

Emily’s laugh was bitter. “Oh, come on, Matt. Don’t defend her. Alex deserves better than someone who barely gives him the time of day. I mean, look at how she’s acting now. It’s like she’s purposely pushing him away.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re wrong about her. Y/n isn’t the problem here. Alex has been distant for a while, and maybe she’s finally had enough. That doesn’t make her the bad guy.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost picture Emily’s surprise at my sudden defense of Y/n. “You’re really going to take her side?”

“It’s not about sides, Emily. It’s about understanding that there’s more to this than you know. Maybe if you spent less time shit talking Y/n and more time trying to actually help your friend, you’d see that.”

Her voice dropped to a cold, almost threatening tone. “You better be careful, Matt.”

I felt my frustration boiling over. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t stand the way Emily was twisting everything. “I think this call is over, Emily. I’m done with this.”

Before she could say anything else, I ended the call and threw my phone onto the passenger seat, feeling a wave of anger and guilt crashing over me. I couldn’t believe how Emily was acting, how blind she was to what was really happening. And the worst part was, I knew Y/n was suffering because of it.

I turned off the engine, unbuckling my seatbelt as I made a decision. I couldn’t let the night end like this. I had to do something, something I should’ve done a long time ago. Without another thought, I got out of the car and headed towards Y/n’s apartment.

I knew this was going to change everything, but at that moment, I didn’t care. It was time to set things right, no matter what the consequences were.

Y/n’s POV

As I walked up the steps to my apartment, my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, emotions pulling me in every direction. The night had been perfect, well, almost. There was something so easy about being around Matt, something that made me forget the chaos my life had become. But as soon as Emily's name flashed on his dashboard, reality came crashing back.

I reached my door, sliding the key into the lock, and stepped inside. I leaned against the door after closing it, trying to make sense of everything. The skating, the music, the laughter. It had felt like an escape, like we were in our own little world where nothing could touch us. But that world wasn't real.

Matt was still tied to Emily, and I was still stuck with the knowledge of Alex’s betrayal. The fact that Emily had basically cheated on Matt with Alex, and that Alex was oblivious, Matt was oblivious. It didn’t make it any better. If anything, it made everything worse. Was I any better than them for feeling what I felt about Matt? For enjoying tonight as much as I did? The guilt crept in again.

I was planning to break up with Alex, that much was certain. But did that make what I was feeling, what I was starting to want, any less wrong? Could I really justify it?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they followed me like a shadow. Matt was different. He wasn’t like Alex. But Emily.. Emily had her claws in him, both of them it seems, and I couldn’t forget that. She might not deserve him, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still together.

A sudden knock on the door yanked me from my spiraling thoughts. My heart jumped into my throat as I turned towards the door, my pulse quickening. I hesitated for a moment, trying to pull myself together, before reaching for the handle.

As soon as the door swung open, I barely had time to register Matt standing there before he closed the distance between us. His hands cupped my face and his lips crashed against mine. It was like a dam had broken, all the tension and longing we’d both been holding back finally pouring out. I could feel the urgency in his touch, the desperation. I responded instinctively, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as we lost ourselves in the moment.

I felt the world around us disappear, nothing else mattered but this - Matt and I, finally giving in to what we both wanted. There was no hesitation, no second guessing. Everything felt right. His lips moved against mine with a perfect rhythm, and I could feel the heat between us growing, the connection we shared becoming more intense with each passing second.

As we continued to kiss, Matt’s hands slipped from my face down to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the way his heart was racing just as fast as mine. It was intoxicating, the way we fit together, the way everything just clicked.

But even in the haze of the moment, there was a tenderness in the way he held me, a sense of care that made my heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing me - he was telling me something, something that went beyond words. And in that moment, I knew I felt the same way.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other’s. Matt’s eyes were searching mine, as if trying to find the words to say something, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he felt, and I felt it too.

“Matt..” I whispered, my voice shaky from the intensity of what had just happened.

He didn’t respond right away, just held me there, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he finally said, his voice low and full of emotion.

I smiled softly, feeling the truth in his words. “Me too” I admitted.

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. There were still so many things we needed to talk about, so many complications, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that we were finally here, together, and everything else could wait.

Everything else melted away. The confusion, the guilt, the doubts - they all vanished in the intensity of that kiss. It was like every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, was finally being released. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I could only feel. This was what I had been running from, what I had been trying to deny. But now that it was happening, now that Matt was kissing me like this, there was no going back. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

We stared into eachothers eyes again momentarily before closing the gap again, this time more intense than before, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. I began to walk backwards, pulling Matt along with me by his shirt. 

I break away from him, grabbing his hand and turning to guide him to my shared bedroom. I push open the door and we rush straight in, both too consumed by the connection between us to speak a word. 

Matt shuts the door behind him and latches his lips onto mine once more, his hands sliding down to my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and before I knew it, I was guiding him backwards towards the bed, my heart racing in anticipation. When we reached it, I pushed him gently down onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him as our lips continued to move together, the heat between us growing.  Matt’s hands found their way to my back, holding me close as if he didn’t want to let go, and I felt a thrill run through me at the intensity of it all. The sensation of being so close to him, of feeling his heartbeat against mine, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

I could sense the restraint in Matt’s movements, the careful way he held me, as if he was trying to balance the passion with a deep sense of respect. It was a reminder of why I was drawn to him in the first place - his ability to make me feel safe and cherished, even in the most intense moments.

Eventually, we pulled apart slightly, I looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the same mix of vulnerability and hope that mirrored my own feelings.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, wanting to make sure we were both on the same page.

"This feels right." He whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

I nodded with a soft smile. "It does."

Before I knew it Matt had flipped me over, now laying with my back against the mattress. Foreplay wasn’t on the cards right now, with how bad we desperately wanted each other. 

Matt stood up and unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound of the buckle was sharp in the quiet room, a reminder of how far we had already come, and how much further we could go.

I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was the same intensity that had been there all night, a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made my heart race even more. He paused for a moment, as if giving me the chance to stop, to say something, but I didn’t. I wanted this.

Instead, I sat up, to capture his lips again, my hands resting on his shoulders as I felt the belt slide free. The kiss was softer this time, more deliberate, as if we were both savoring every second, every touch. The tension between us was electric, a current that I could feel in every inch of my body. 

Matt's fingers traced up and down my thighs as he kissed me back. He hooked his fingers under my pants, pulling them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. I stared up at him with innocent eyes as he threw my pants on the floor and began to pull down his own, now standing in his boxers. 

“Is this okay?” Matt asks, trying to make sure he had as much reassurance as possible.

“Of course.” I responded, trying to make him aware of how badly I wanted it.

“Do..do you have anything?” Matt mumbled.

Fuck I never thought this through. 

“Uh.. yeah there should be some there in the top drawer”.

Knowing that Matt was about to pull out an unopened pack of condoms that belonged to Alex made my skin crawl. I knew they’d be unopened as our sex life died about a year ago.

Matt rummages around the top drawer and pulls out an open box of condoms. I don’t know what I’m more embarrassed by, the fact that Alex has most definitely been fucking someone else or the fact that Matt definitely thinks that they were being used for me.

“Are you ready?” Matt whispered.

I nodded as he pulled my legs apart, steadying himself at the edge of the bed while he pulled his underwear down, ripping the top of the condom wrapper with his teeth. He looked up at me once he was finished and our eyes met each other, locking into each other's gaze as he pushed into me. My back arched as I squeezed my eyes closed, opening my mouth from the feeling of Matt in me. 

“Fffucck” I cried.

He leaned over and gave me a smug smile before kissing me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I could barely kiss him back as I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. He fit in me as if it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect” Matt whispers to me while he starts to kiss my neck.

“Y-you feel soo goood Matt” I whimpered, my body buckling with the multiple sensations I was feeling.

Matt stands up straight again, still keeping his pace, thrusting into me as his hands grip my hips. I feel the loss of his touch on my left side, as he removes his hand and traces downard on my stomach until he reaches my clit. I feel my core start to clench as he swirls his thumb in circles on my sensitive bud.

“Does that feel nice?” Matt whispers, his full attention on me.

“S-so good, Mattt… I’m so close” I whimpered.

“You look so pretty, my girl.” Matt says breathless as he looks at me in complete admiration.

Matt picks up his pace in both areas ever so slightly, still making sure he’s gentle with me. “Fuck you’re so good Y/n, I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck I’m-” I whimper, clenching around his dick as I climax, my body shaking underneath him. Matt wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my neck. His grunts filling my ears as his thrusts now become sloppy as he finishes. Both two sweaty mess’ fully engrossed in eachother.

I’ve never had this feeling before, finishing by the hands of a man, and I’m glad he was the one that finally could do it for me. I felt an insane amount of comfort with him, my body fully trusted him.

Matt pulled out of me and bent down to give me a slow, passionate kiss. Feeling more connected than ever. He pulls away and looks at me with a slight concerned but playful look to him.

“D-do you have any where I could put this?” Matt asks, pointing in the direction of the filled condom that’s still attached to him.

I giggled at the realization “Yeah, the ensuite is the door behind you.” Nodding in the direction of the door. Matt made his way to clean himself up in the bathroom while I slipped into something comfortable.

I walked back over to my bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. I hear the bathroom door open as Matt reappears in the room, walking over to lay down beside me, my eyes still stuck on the ceiling. The room was filled with a quiet stillness, the only sound being our slowed, steady breathing. The warmth of Matt’s body was still close enough to feel, and everything seemed to fade into a soft haze. My mind was swimming with the events of the night, the weight of what had just happened slowly settling in.

I turned my head slightly to look at Matt. His eyes were half closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he now stared at the ceiling. There was a calmness in his expression, but I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, just as they were in mine. We had crossed a line - one that we both knew couldn’t be uncrossed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to break the silence, didn’t want to shatter the fragile bubble we were in. But as I lay there, the reality of everything began to creep back in - the complications, the uncertainties, the questions about what this meant for us, for our relationships.

Finally, Matt turned his head to face me, his eyes searching mine. I could see the same mix of emotions I was feeling reflected in his gaze - satisfaction, confusion, and a touch of concern.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, though the simple gesture felt inadequate to convey the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. “Yeah.. I’m okay” I whispered back, my voice almost trembling.

He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and the tenderness in that small gesture made my chest tighten. “I’m glad” he murmured, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I don’t” I said quickly, more sure of that than anything else. “It’s just.. there’s so much to think about now.”

Matt sighed, rolling onto his back again and staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, there is” he agreed. “But right now, I just want to focus on this, on us, and what we have in this moment. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

I nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me. The idea of dealing with the fallout of this was daunting, but Matt’s words grounded me, reminding me that we didn’t have to have all the answers right now. We could take it one step at a time.

I shifted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his warmth. The comfort of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, made it easier to push away the looming thoughts, at least for a little while.

In that quiet aftermath, with the weight of the night pressing down on us, I found a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever came next, whatever challenges we’d have to face, I knew we’d face them together.

a/n : after 16 parts of tension building they finallllllly get together!!! let’s just see how things play out..

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass

[sannencarts]

I told my partner that I was doing doodle requests to celebrate 10k hits, and they instantly went "oh can I request one? Because I want to see that scene in chapter 29 where Akari whaps Volo with his hat after he gets stupid and possessive." So here you go, honey!

EDIT: Well since this has gotten an obscene amount of notes out of nowhere I figured I might as well take advantage of it to plug the fic that this moment came from. Pls read TtH because I worked really hard on it and it has literally consumed my life at this point.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 29/July/2024

Do you ever have one of those weeks where everything is unexpected?

Well, it was definitely one of those last week, lol!

I haven’t had access to my laptop since mid-week last week, which means all my reference, variable reference, plans and things are all inaccessible, as well as normal things like emails, etc.

But I always back-up Book Four on an SD card, which means luckily I still had that! So I’ve been able to work on the different unit scenes in what is becoming a seriously stonkingly beefy Chapter Three, just with some interesting notes to myself I need to go back and fill in.

Eg. "Oh, so close," Maaka jeers at his brother with a smile.

Tane glares at him [through what coloured eyes does he have?],

So that’s been an interesting way to write, hehe! :D But it at least means I can write even with my laptop out of commission for the moment!

I will have it again on Wednesday, but I won’t be diving in to fill in those moments quite then. Instead, I will be concentrating on polishing up and adding in anything from the readers for Chapter Two so that I can get the demo up on early access on Patreon hopefully for the weekend!

I know I’ve had 2 back I’d been waiting on, even without being able to access my emails, so hopefully the others will be back by Wednesday too! *fingers crossed*

Hope you all have an awesome week! Not long until the next update, so I'll talk to you all then <3

[princessesqcue]

Burn With Me

kind of yandere /toxic JJK x Reader (hints at reader being black)

summary : in which what yours is mine to Jungkook and what's his is infact Not yours

genre / angst for this chapter , dark romance, themes of exercised control

MINORS DO NOT INERACT!!!

🤍🤍🤍 🤍🤍🤍 🤍🤍🤍 🤍🤍🤍 🤍🤍🤍 🤍🤍🤍

Jungkook doesn't share

he will do anything you tell him to

He would become your servant if you allowed that

He was very curious about  you which meant that he had to be attached to your hip whenever he could that also to him and in his own merits of logic meant that he was allowed to be in your business as much as he wanted

You didn't even have to know

he was watching his own unspoken rules getting jeopardized at times especially when you did things like these

What belonged to you belonged to him and the opposite was a dead end

It wasn't just you , jungkook just consisted of too many possessive bones in his body

It's either he was just that good at masking his distaste for sharing or you just couldn't take a hint

He didn't even have the time to do s double take in his already livid state

see the thing is he was simply caught off guard

you had gotten into the mood to clean up the house which also meant that the laundry coul not be avoided

You and Jungkook were simply cohabitant new room mates and it has been a little over a month since a friend sent you in the direction of an empty apartment listing

Doing all in her might to get you out of her and her boyfriend's freaky way

Upon meeting your landlord you had been skeptical but you didn't have that many choices plus the neighborhood seemed safe and the rent was pretty fair so you moved in

You both got along fine ,quickly falling into a routine,the living situation was practically homey, marriage like sealed with a lot of tension.

his jaw was so tensed if you noticed you would think something was bound to snap,his reaction was simply an erorr detection in his exercised control

you had these instances where you stepped on his toes without even thinking twice

you were not being the most considerate in his eyes and this additional moment as if his day was not bad enough to you, why did you have to have your episodes right when he was livid

he was simply pissed off

and you just happened to be the first thing in sight , a winner of his bad moods by default as his eyebrows scrunch at your appearance

"Is that my t-shirt?"

You were a mess to say the least, your braids in a ponytail that fell down from a bun keep getting in your face disrupting the surface of the counter that you are currently wiping down at

in the background you hum to a song blasting on volume 29 , it's nearing 1pm in the day when the door ahead beeps and open revealing a slightly disheveled Jungkook

who had knocked off work earlier than normally

Something about his presence is not very friendly in this moment where his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek from the inside

You had never seen him like this before, a nervous light smile gracing your lips

When your eyes trail further to examine him his lip seems slightly busted

"Jungkook, what happened…are you okay?"

You simply ask concern fully evident in your widened shiny orbs

You are not sure what is happening exactly between Jungkook rolling his eyes, a dark chuckle, the quirking if his eyebrow and the impatience evident on his face all together

bringing you back to his initial and only words to you as it was your first time seeing him today

"Oh yeah, I was doing laundry and my clothes got drenched "

growing antsy under the weight of his gaze you assure him that you have plans to wash it and that it was safe

"So you wear my clothes, who gave you permission?"

if you ever thought your eyes could not get any bigger they could as well have been hanging out of their sockets in this instant

"I didn't think you would mind-'

He is stepping closer in slow strides and unwavering predatory gaze solely focused on you and you alone

you look like a deer caught in the headlights

"Who gave you the fucking permission to wear my shirt y/n ?"

He seems to be a different person as he stops a little distance from you eyebrows drawn together in an angry frown

you're still trying to be sure that this is Jungkook that standing in front of you, to keep yourself from running the hell out of sight

"I'm sorry, I -"

he chuckles in disbelief

"you can be such a selfish brat sometimes, I can't believe you would just help yourself to my clothes without my permission  what else do you fucking take from me when I'm not around, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question and

His words taking on a patronizing tone that triggers a defensive alarm in your brain

the way he drags his eyes across you makes you question your existence for a hot minute

and somewhere between the pitch of Jungkooks mean words , his gaze

and the ringing in your ears turning into a deafening  intolerable sound your eyes start tearing up and when you can no longer take any of it even the t-shirt feels like it's weighing you down and in the defeat of it all your hands reach for the hem of the shirt and you drag the t-shirt over your head shoving it in his chest before turning to hide away behind the protective walls of the one thing you infact had the full rights to in jungkooks shared apartment

You are simply too livid to realize the state you have him in in the span of the moment you throw his shirt at him

Tits standing pretty above your figure

He never thought he'd ever see this view

and when you turn away from him your pretty ass swaying makes him want to pull you back in to his arms just to feel the softness of your flesh against his finger tips

and another tip making his explosive mood into something more sinister than what he had been initially presented with

"Fuck "

he lets out under his shaky breath

The door slamming in a distance ahead

You don't come out of your room in the next four hours

Hopeful that he would leave again

You had fallen asleep somewhere in between your crying waking up around sun down to take down your laundry

you tie your robe around your figure and your door creaks at contact

You don't even make it far when you spot familiar closet colors that belong to you already folded neatly on the nearest couch to your room

You don't bother to look for him

Even when the kitchen smells nice and dishes clank there

You retreat back to your room

before exiting again to take a shower

When done you get back into your room not acknowledging his presence even though he's sitting right across the room

You were dressed up when you exited the room again, wearing your work attire with your braids flowing down your back and a satchel bag on your shoulder

He could tell you were off to work with your change of clothes in the bag that has some volume today hinting him something he won't even let himself consider

He's there on the kitchen island following your every move with his eyes

you know he is there so you ignore more

you see him as you look around for your preferred pair of sneakers that you are not sure where they went

The comfortable ones that tolerate your herrendous hours of standing

frustrated you go back into your room to check again settling on a  different pair

"Come and eat "

A voice you are ignoring announces from the kitchen

You ignore him

you are approaching the door when he stands in front of you

"Please "

"I'm not hungry " you say lowly

Your stomach growls for the nth time like a paid actor

his eyebrows knitted knowing that you had not eaten in hours

You try to push past him but he just stands in your way tall and broad as ever

You glare at him hoping he will get the message

Angel,I'm sorry ,"

he takes the opportunity to let out the word when your eyes finally meet his

"Yeah me too , could you move"

He won't budge , refusing to let you leave without eating

"I'm really not interested"

At least you were talking

"Please"

he has those sparkling eyes staring into your soul

"I already dished for two "

"Well now you got extra for tomorrow "

"You can't work on an empty stomach"

you ignore the last bit of his opinion continuing to scurry away and you don't even hear him approach you until he's dragging you to the counter opening a chair for you and putting a plate in front of you

You eat with him still avoiding him

You were always like this

You got scared to look people in the eyes whenever you had arguments

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of the things I said-

I was not even upset with you, you were just there"

You clear your throat before muttering a heavy apology that tugs at your heart strings

"I'm sorry-

I'm sorry for wearing your t-shirt, it won't happen again"

You simply got forward and out of lane earlier and that makes your appetite want to desipate

You were probably being unreasonable but what if he resented you for all he did for you as well

You surely despised feeling indebted to people

and you feared overstepping boundaries and overstaying your welcomes

"Thanks for the food "

You are on your feet to do the dishes when he does it again, he takes the dishes to put them in the dishwasher before you can make it to the sink

"Princess, look at me"

He was now stood in front of you too close for your bond to Jungkook that is under reevaluation

With a sharp inhale you meet his gaze , unreadable, almost unfamiliar

"I- I have to go"

He wants to place his arms on the counter to cage you there and never let you out of his sight

"Let me drive you there"

"thank but my ride is already here"

This was his least favorite category of brattiness from you and if you weren't already icing him out he would have pointed it out

You excuse yourself past him and rush for the exit your sneakers squeaking against the tiles

with each hypnotic sway of your hips

A part of him thinks you don't even know what you do to him

And

Truth is you had no clue what you had gotten yourself into

He was trying his hardest to change , learning to leave behind a method of love that burns and destroys him and anything he touches

This was no regular man, he was something far more than obsessive and he was scared that he was already getting too lost in you

You were right here under his nose now , you grew on him too quickly

What's yours was his and what's his was his, YOU were his you just didn't know it yet which was why he got pissed earlier when you fit perfectly into HIS t-shirt you disrupt an order of control that goes unspoken to him

wearing his t-shirt was just too hard for him to handle but fuck that image of your body is now engrained in his head and in the camera east corner of the apartment in the living room too small to be noticable

Well at least to your pretty eyes he thought to himself

Same pretty eyes that were glossy when you looked up at him earlier with just a pair of cotton panties on

another pair that you would be losing to Jungkook without a clue in the world

He had no interest to wash that shirt anytime soon, your bare nipples were pressed right against that fabric, his shirt for fucks sake

He wanted to lift you in the air and just fuck you then and there but !he was a patient man

however far that would take him

you were becoming like a deep ocean slowly sinking him to the bottom with an anchor that he tied himself securely to his own ankle

You didn't even have to do anything to have him wrapped around your little finger and that is how he knew he had no plans of letting you go

well at least any time soon

...

DON'T BE A SILENT READER , I'M HUNGRY FOR FEEDBACK 😭😭

do not translate ,copy / re-use .

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back. 

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted. 

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

--

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

--

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night. 

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you. 

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin. 

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes. 

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger. 

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach. 

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you. 

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair. 

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it. 

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there. 

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other. 

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.” 

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley. 

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair. 

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side. 

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you. 

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm. 

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around. 

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you. 

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo. 

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

 By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears. 

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life. 

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips. 

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[its-luna-noel]

degradation | gojo x reader

gojo degrades you

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, smut, spit kink, finger sucking, face fucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling, bodily fluids

word count: 0.9k

part 29/31 prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hope you enjoy!

“On your knees.”

Satoru doesn’t give you a chance to comply on your own; a heavy hand on your shoulder forces you down, and you fall to your knees at his feet, wide eyes staring up at him with such a corruptible expression that he can’t help but grin.

Oh, he’s going to ruin you.

“Open your mouth.”

You do. He loves that about you, how submissive you are, how obedient, how trusting.

He grips your face in his hand, long fingers wrapped around your jaw and holding you in place as he leans over you. He gazes into your eyes, and the fire and overwhelming dominance there nearly takes your breath away.

“Tongue out.”

You do that, too.

He leans so close you can feel his breath on your mouth, breathing heat onto your lips. He stays there for a moment, hovering, building the tension. Then he parts his lips, and a large bead of spit lands on your waiting tongue, a string of saliva connecting your mouths for a moment.

You let it sit on your tongue, mixing with your own spit as you gaze up at him. As you wait for instruction.

Finally, Satoru hums in approval. “Good. Swallow.”

You do.

He gently pats your cheek, smirking down at you. “You’re such a dirty girl. You liked that didn’t you? You liked swallowing my spit, like a disgusting little slut.”

You nod desperately, not daring to speak. He hasn’t given you permission.

Satoru’s smirk widens into a grin, and then two fingers push into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Close your mouth.”

Your lips wrap around his fingers, mouth hot and wet as you welcome him in.

“Suck.”

Your cheeks hollow, and you suck on his fingers, tongue swirling and head bobbing, just a little. Your eyes never leave his, and you watch his pupils dilate with desire and lust as he watches you show off a little. Watches you blow his fingers for him.

With his other hand, he grabs your jaw and squeezes. Forcing your lips apart. “You’re such a filthy girl. You want my dick that bad, huh? Can’t even fucking wait for it like a good girl.”

You whine softly, staring up at him with brows creased. Submissive, wanting to do everything for him, be everything for him. “I want it, Satoru.” Your words are garbled by his hold on your face.

He laughs derisively, pulling your face close to his. His eyes burn into yours. “You’ll get it, baby. And you’re gonna take it like a good little whore.” His hand slides back, trailing along your jawline and into your hair. Then he grabs a fistfull and tugs, and you gasp in surprise, and he takes the opportunity to shove his cock all the way into your mouth.

You gag, your throat convulsing around his dick as it slides in, as he bottoms out in the back of your throat. He groans at the feeling, his hand pressing your head down onto him, keeping you in place as he fucks into your mouth.

“Breathe,” he orders as you gag again, tears pouring over your cheeks. “Breathe, pretty girl.”

And so you do, concentrating on your breath through your nose as you lift your gaze to meet his. Tears and drool wet your face, dripping down your cheeks and over your chin until you make an absolute mess. He thrusts into your mouth, the head of his cock slamming against the soft tissue at the back of your throat, and he grunts, watching your every response with rapt attention.

“Good fucking slut,” he says through his teeth. “Taking me so fucking well. Look so pretty crying for me.”

You know you do. You know he loves you like this, vulnerable, broken. All for him.

And so you take everything he gives you, pliant and uncomplaining, as he fucks your throat. You continue to gag every so often, tears pouring over your cheeks and drool pouring over your chin, but you know you look just as beautiful to him, just as enamoring.

And then, when he’s groaning and throwing his head back, his hips stuttering slightly against your mouth, he grips your hair and pulls you off of him. “Close your eyes,” he chokes out, and you do just in time for him to cum all over your face.

A burst of hot cum paints your face, hitting your closed eyelids, and you can’t help the gasp of surprise as you instinctively flinch back. But his hand knotted in your hair keeps you in place as the second and third ropes of thick, warm seed hit your cheeks.

“Pretty fucking girl,” he grits through his teeth, thumb brushing one of the beads of cum on your face, scooping it into your mouth. “Eat it.”

And you do, parting your lips and wrapping them around his thumb, swallowing down the mess he presents to your tongue.

Pleased, Satoru hums, pulling his thumb from your mouth to swipe it across your lower lip lovingly. “Good girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then he smirks down at you and helps you to your feet. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

[lissyneedstopissy]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter two – another atsumu?

wc 1419

MDNI.

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15:11.

You were currently 7 hours and 11 minutes into your 8 hour shift. 

Earlier in the day, Miya Atsumu went on the MSBY Black Jackals official Instagram account (with over 7 million followers, mind you), and posted a picture of a meme of Seong Gi-hun on the account's story.

Even though it was only up for 3 minutes, a few news pages, including TMZ Japan, posted about it on their accounts, basically making fun of the whole ordeal.

MSBY’s social media supervisor, Suzuki Dai, called an emergency meeting for everybody who worked in public relations to “talk” about this situation.

Earlier, 08:29.

You, and your coworkers were all sitting in your respective chairs, with a white table in the middle. “Who even let this happen?! Do you all not understand how embarrassing this is for us, as a professional volleyball team?!?!” 

You gave one of your coworkers, Yamamoto Akane, a ‘whatthefuck’ look, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Suzuki. “Is there something funny, [L/N]?!” Returning your focus to him, you respond with a shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t act dumb! I saw you give a look to Yamamoto!” He retorted. “If you want to say something, then say it now.” 

You already knew this was going to be a long day, and this yelling just wasn’t helping anything.

“What’s your deal, Suzuki? Can you stop aiming your anger at me?” You hissed back, crossing your arms. “Everybody who’s talking about this situation isn't insulting our professionalism. If anything, it’s making our social media more popular.”

He put both of his hands on his desk. “I don’t CARE if it’s making us popular, we are still getting made fun of!” 

You raised an eyebrow, and tilted your head a little bit to the right. “You– huh?” You pause for a second. “You don’t care if it’s making us–” You cut yourself off, and leaned back in your seat. 

You knew better than to continue a conversation with stupid person.

Present time.

‘Ramen… no. Maybe yakisoba?’ You were in the middle of thought. Specifically about what to eat when your shift ends.

After the whole ordeal that happened, plus an apology, MSBY’s instagram account was up 15 thousand followers, which was very good in terms of gaining new fans. This caused you to become pretty carefree, well at least for the time being.

ding!

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you pick up your phone and see who texted you.

You put your phone down, and wondered. ‘Am I even craving onigiri? … There’s another Atsumu?’ You visibly cringed.

15:59.

As you were walking to the employee room to clock out, you quickly texted Atsumu to tell him you’re on your way.

After swiping your badge, you headed outside and got in your car, letting out a really big sigh of relief. Today wasn’t the best day, but there’s always worse. 

After a few moments of silence, you picked your phone up, and quickly went on Atsumu’s Instagram to see what his brother looked like. 

Curiosity began to kill the cat. 

You slid through some of his posts, containing MSBY pics, sponsorships, and finally, a picture of him and his brother from 8 months ago.

As you inspected that specific picture, you began to feel kind of… weird.

The picture was clearly taken after an MSBY game, with sweaty Atsumu on the left, and his brother, wearing a matching jersey, on the right. They were both smiling, while giving each other a side hug.

They looked extremely similar, but different at the same time. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. 

You avert your eyes to your carplay screen.

16:05.

“Woops.” you muttered to yourself as you began typing in the directions to Onigiri Miya.

16:18.

You pull into the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located, and since the lunch rush was over, it wasn’t terribly crowded inside the shop. As you get closer to the store, you can see Atsumu and Hinata sitting at a table by the window, with the ginger wearing a white beanie, and the blondie wearing a brown snapback, backwards.

You park in a spot almost directly in front of the store, catching the attention of your friends. They begin to wave to you, and you can see Atsumu turn his head towards the kitchen, probably yelling something to someone.

As you exit your car and lock it, you immediately feel a sense of nervousness. Why were you feeling this? Was it due to being in a new place? Was it because you were about to meet Atsumu’s brother?

You quickly composed yourself and walked inside the door.

“Waddup, shawty?” Atsumu smiled as he got up from his chair, along with Hinata, and dapped you up.

“Hey, [L/N], how are you feeling?” Hinata gave you a side hug.

You let out a small giggle. “I told you earlier that I was fine, right? That basically means I’m also doing fine now.”

“Yeah, I know, but I felt b–” “‘SAMU! COME HERE AND MEET MY FRIEND!” Atsumu interrupted, turning his head to the kitchen once more. The small number of customers that were inside turned to your group, with weird looks.

As Atsumu grabbed both of your shoulders and dragged you to the counter, you gave Hinata an apologetic look, while he quickly dismissed it with a small wave.

“That was rude.” You pointed out to Atsumu, as he put an arm around your shoulder. He responded with a shrug. “‘SA–” 

“‘Tsumu, stop. You’re gonna scare my customers away.”

You turn your head to see a tall, broad man walking towards the both of you. He was wearing a black compression shirt with a small onigiri symbol in the corner, black joggers, a gold waist apron, and a black baseball cap.

You took one look at this man, and immediately thought: ‘Oh. My. God.’ On the outside, you looked completely normal, just watching as Osamu walked towards you. On the inside, you’re lowkey kinda not really but in a way freaking the fuck out.

“Took ya long enough, damn it.” Atsumu grumbled to his twin as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

“Did ya forget I have a business ta’ run?” Osamu counters. After a small scoff was released, he averted his eyes to meet yours.

That’s when all of Osamu’s thoughts instantly shut down. This had never happened to him before. Of course he thinks some girls are very good looking, but he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his life. 

His face somewhat softens as the both of you stare at each other with that same look in your eyes.

“Man, I don’t care!” Atsumu groans. “This is one of my friends–”

“I can introduce myself, Atsumu.” You say calmly as you remove his arm from your shoulder. You can still feel the gaze of the other Miya on you.

“I’m [Y/N] [L/N], nice to meet you.” You say as you bow politely. As you look up from the bow, you see him bowing to you, while his lips curve into a very small smile.

“Miya Osamu, nice to meet ya as well.”

As you both stand up straight, you catch a glimpse of Atsumu giving you a look. He knows how you act when you meet a really cute boy — relaxed, and (in your own words) as ‘cool as a cucumber.’

You avert your eyes to the menu, as both brothers continue to keep their eyes on you. “So uh…” You nudge Atsumu with a small mischievous grin growing, “You’re still paying for me, right?”

“Yep, whatcha’ gonna get?” he says, not catching on with what you’re about to do.

‘Umeboshi, Takana, Salmon… ah-ha.’

You look back at Osamu. “Ten tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

While Osamu raises his eyebrow in curiosity, Atsumu gives you one of the most disgusted looks ever. “What the HELL are ya gonna do with ten onigiri?!” He yells.

As you look back to Atsumu, you let out a sigh. “You’re right, my bad.” When you look over at Osamu again, you give him your updated order. “Fifteen tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

“FIFTEEN–” Atsumu stops himself from speaking as he begins to walk away from the register, with hands over his mouth and wide eyes. As you begin to laugh, you can hear Osamu let out a few small chuckles.

Damn, even his laugh was attractive.

authors notes !

𐙚 osamu is so sexy like literalllyyyy imagine him wearing a compression shirt , like wow . mind blown .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated 🫶🏼

𐙚 hope you enjoyed the chapter , reader-chan !

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 26. together

chapter tags/warnings: a very broken marriage. heavy angst. at least i am not gege. mai and maki and megumi as an iconic trio. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. corruption. 

word count: 4.8k

notes: thank you for the overwhelming reception from the last chapter! work has been consuming my life, sadly, which is why this chapter took longer than i anticipated. gr. in this upcoming piece, though, my main focuses are the character development in y/n as well as explanations from toji himself. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

A large, warm hand massaged the delicate stretch between your thumb and forefinger. 

Gently. Leisurely. Daintily. 

Vanilla and cinnamon notes entered your lungs with every inhale, a velvetiness akin to everything you imagined clouds to be like if brushing against your cheek, the comforting sensations bringing back nostalgic memories from the carefree times your heart longed to return to. 

Was this Heaven? you wondered in this dark and dreamy daze.

You would not mind staying in this state eternally if that meant the promise of peace and quiet forever.

A voice, not from yourself, dispersed your thoughts.

“Suguru, what are the chances she won’t ever wake up?” 

Wake up?

Oh, so you were just asleep.

“Shut up, Sukuna,” another person quipped, this tone more leveled and coarser than the last. “Don’t say shit like that.”

The first person, who must be Sukuna then, chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh, who would’ve thought? Choso is having a soft spot?” he marveled with great interest, “Since when did you care so much about—”

But a third voice interrupted the banter. “She’s awake.”

After a long struggle, your eyes fluttered open to see a crowd gathered around you. Immediately beside you was Suguru Geto. He had been the one nestling your hand, but he practically didn’t look like himself with the concern etched into his brow, replacing the cheerfulness in his typical visage. Behind him stood Sukuna and Choso. The former grinned with fierce satisfaction, while the latter…scowled at you?

To be fair, Choso always scowled at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Geto greeted with a melancholic smile, giving you another squeeze, firm and encouraging. Like a true gentleman, he helped you sit upright, his other hand reaching over your head to brush aside some stray strands by your forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Exhaustion, meanwhile, rattled you to the bone.

You were weak, your movements fragile, almost like you were a fawn in her first hours of life. You blinked rapidly while taking in the new environment, only to quickly recognize the gray and cream colors in your surroundings. Back at Toji’s apartment was where you found yourself, with the familiar spiced floral scents from the flickering candle nearby confirming that this was the master bedroom. 

Given the dull throb by your temples, you frowned.

“What—?” your voice came out as a hoarse rasp. “What happened?”

The trio traded looks at each other with communicative eyes.

In the end, Choso tucked his hands into his front pocket and took the initiative to speak. 

“You were in the Zenin residence with Mai and Maki, remember?” No, not really.“Got into an argument with your husband. Started having a panic attack. Collapsed. Puked.”

Oh…

Recollections from your last conscious moments flooded your head like a tsunami: the screaming, the crying, and the fighting. Loud, angry, bitter fighting. 

Fighting for your dignity. Fighting for your heart. Fighting for your life. Goodness gracious. As much as the memories sucked all life from you, you instead felt completely…numb. 

After all, you had already been dead on the inside. You were too worn out, both physically and emotionally, to react. Everything that you had to go through since your wedding had brought you to your wit’s end, and this recent altercation with Naoya Zenin was truly the icing on the cake. 

When you caught sight of yourself in a nearby mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. Your expression, glum. Your lips, chafed, Your face, pallor. Absent of any other color than an ashen hue. 

“How…did I get here?”

“Mai and Maki got worried and called Toji, who told them to bring you here,” Sukuna answered this time. “You’re lucky the girls reacted fast, else we would have sent you to an emergency room. Suguru even stopped his shift at his clinic to watch over you.”

“I—,” you sighed, lost for words and dropping your tired gaze to the floor. Dealing with inner turmoil to this degree was more than what any sane person could handle. All efforts towards your happiness were in vain anyway, as the cosmos conspired to make your existence one neverending nightmare. Everyone else had their ambitions and shit to deal with, but here you were as an absolute nuisance to the people who should not be otherwise pestered, and you were ashamed for the unnecessary trouble that you had caused. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“We are so sorry!” 

Unexpectedly, the apology came from a girl’s voice, and you had to turn around to see three familiar teenagers by the bedroom door. 

Just last week, you would never have imagined ever seeing Mai, Maki, and Megumi together. Yet, here you were, watching the twins and their—technically speaking—nephew (cute) standing side-by-side, twiddling their thumbs in their nervous corner (also cute). 

Flustered and prepared for admonishment, Mai bowed her head at a slight angle as she hurriedly explained, “We don’t…We don’t mean to put you in an awkward position. We just didn’t know what to do. Maki and I were worried when you fell to the floor and started throwing up. We…We should’ve asked for your permission on who to call for help. But we didn’t know who else to phone, so we ended up dialing Toji. Now, we’ve put you in a weird spot and that is all our fault—”

“Do not apologize. That was the right thing to do.” The comment came from yet another person, and when Sukuna and Choso stepped to the side, who you saw at the room’s furthest end was none other than Toji Fushiguro himself. 

He had taken a seat all the way by the wall, with one leg thrust over the other in a relaxed but kingly sort of manner. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms bled to his wrists with ink, and the emeralds in his sharp gaze gleamed as he stared pointedly in your direction. 

Of everyone in the room, his countenance appeared the most composed, but you could feelhim reading through the emotions present on your face. He inclined forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm. 

When he noticed the slightest shift in your posture too, the tiny scar by his lips flexed along with a smile.

“So, you’ve figured me out, hm?”

Easily, you could sense all seven pairs of eyes in the room (the four therapists plus the three teens) landing on you. The sudden attention rendered you nervous. Even if you chose silence as your response, the entire room, the entire planet, and perhaps even the entire galaxy could speculate your answer through your expression alone.

After a long while, you breathed out, “You didn’t tell me that you were a Zenin.”

The elephant in the room had to be addressed obviously, and you were not shy to confront the situation head-on.

While you did not intend to sound accusatory, your tone came off as such anyway. How could you not, when you had essentially been misled for weeks? Sure, Toji probably did not want to be badmouthing the Zenins to the very person (you) who had been recently married into the family. But, by withholding the fact that he and your husband were cousins, Toji had created much unnecessary anguish including the current limbo that your marriage was in right now. 

Meanwhile, that same man pressed his nails into his chin in contemplation. 

“I am not a Zenin, though,” he eventually corrected in a domineering voice, all austere in his throne. “At least, not any longer. I took my first wife’s last name years ago. I go by Fushiguro now.” Curt, direct, and pithy. Toji wasted not a syllable. “Everything worked out though, I guess. Naobito cut me off from the Zenin clan earlier this year. Gave me ten billion yen and told me to get lost, so I did.”

Toji always kept his private matters to himself, but with everything that he had gone through, you were struck by his poise, as if being expelled from such an influential household had been a high-school breakup he had gotten over long ago. 

Nonetheless, you wondered if he missed that other life, and you brought your knees toward your chest.

“So,” how should you put this, “you’re not upset?”

Toji scoffed immediately.

“Upset?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “Why would I be upset? That household is a trash dump. All my life, there were no choices for me to make when my uncles and granduncles decided everything already,” and he began counting with his fingers, “my teachers, my classes, my extracurriculars, my friends. Everything. I was only a puppet to bring honor to the family name, bring in money for the company.”

Listening to his sonorous voice, you rested your cheek onto a knee.

"I see."

His story was depressing, and from conversations with in-laws such as Mai and Maki, you knew that he was not lying, either. Coming from nobility as well, you were also aware of the pressures that came with the people who boasted their 'old-money' statuses, but the Zenin household had always been notorious for being miserable. 

Toji had said so before in a prior discussion, how ‘family isn’t family for something like the Zenins’ because both politics and business took precedence.

Then, he went on.

“Some people would kill to have my problems, but I did not want that life, you know? Around the time I started college, I decided that I wanted to make judgments for myself and be my own distinct entity, but that made people upset. Privileged. Entitled. Ungrateful. Whatever. My family members called me many things as a young adult when they figured I did not want to be their pawn for my whole life, with the only person who understood me for many years being my best friend in university.”

Megumi’s mom.

Toji nearly appeared to be an altogether different person whenever he spoke about his first wife. The chartreuse in his eyes would stir with both sorrow and fond reminiscence as he thought about the Mrs. Fushiguro you would never get to meet, his closest confidant whom he lost to the cruel separation brought by life versus death. She must have been someone whom he valued a lot—a person who completely transformed him—as Toji had discarded his last name (which was Zenin, of all things) for hers.

‘He truly loved my mom,’ Megumi explained before. 'He had given up everything.’

Thus, fate could truly be unfair.

The loss and pain Toji must have endured, a topic Megumi had alluded to in his discussion with you before.

Not to mention, the expectations, frustration, and suffocation that came from the clan's elders, too. Experiencing the intense atmosphere in the Zenin household firsthand allowed you to empathize with him. Given the stark differences between him and your lawful husband, there was no wonder Toji did not wish to deal with his older relatives' high-strung conventions.

But, if he had been suffering so much… 

“Why did you care so much for what your family thought?” you asked, disregarding the look that the three teenagers by the door exchanged with each other. “Toji, you went to university in the United States. You had a wife and son at a young age. You went from a business background to a licensed therapist, so why did you not—”

“Leaving is difficult when you’re the family heir and the corporation’s CEO.” 

The expression that you then returned was blank.

Huh?

His words triggered something in your head, so you repeated after him.

“Leaving is difficult when,” and your voice trailed off, “when…you…are the heir and CEO.”

Heir. CEO.

Zenin.

Toji.

Naoya.

But Toji’s older.

‘Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.’

Sheer realization slapped you hard across your face. No way.

“Toji,” you began after letting the revelation sink into you a while later, but your voice barely eeked above a mumble, “so you were once the successor to the Zenin household and company?"

The man in question did not respond, but the silent affirmation from the six other onlookers was an answer in itself.

Yes.

In hindsight, you wanted to say you had always seen the possibility. Still, you never fully registered this until now: the thoughtfulness in his strategy, the sophistication in his speech, the charisma in his leadership. 

Previously, Toji had impressed you with how much he knew about the Zenin Corporation’s market share in the Asia-Pacific or the firm’s outsized influence on the international stage. Yet, most (including yourself) would not guess that someone like Toji Fushiguro—your tattooed and brawny sex therapist (plus single dad)—had once been heralded as the indisputable inheritor to the proud lineage and conglomerate. 

That had been your mistake. 

Toji was more than what people made him out to be, which reminded you to never assume anything superficially about someone—a remark he had once made. For good reason, because he had been referring to himself all along.

You could almost visualize Toji Fushiguro as the seasoned executive he had once been in light of this new information: his black strands slicked into a side part, his charcoal blazer freshly pressed, his leather oxfords newly polished. 

Maybe because he was more mature or maybe because he was simply older, but Toji appeared more fitting for the important roles in the Zenin household compared to the man presently poised for succession. 

Consequently, you must also ask, “Then, how did Naoya end up in your seat?”

Sukuna and Megumi shared a glance.

Choso grimaced, and Suguru kissed his teeth.

Meanwhile, Toji ran a lone finger down his jaw, following the lines from a tattoo. 

“Let me give you some context, sweetheart,” he offered, now brushing his chin as he spoke. “For the last—let’s say—few hundred years, the oldest male in each generation became the leader in the Zenin clan. Is the rule stupid? Yes. Should there be more criteria in evaluating a potential heir aside from birth order? Also yes. But nothing has stopped this before because the Zenins, as you know by now, are a family built on antiquity and tradition. So, when I was born as the oldest male in my generation and Naoya had come in second place...” 

Toji did not have to finish his sentence for you to figure out the rest.

Despite the demands that came along with being the next family head, Toji must have been esteemed as nothing short of a crown price among the Japanese elite, with seniors in the Zenin household utilizing all their resources to prepare the once young and starry-eyed boy for taking over such an influential role. Naturally, his enviable position would spark jealousy, even from those whom Toji deemed related to by birth.

Including his very own younger first cousin.

Toji frowned in exasperation.

“Your husband is one childish and jealous brat, but Naoya Zenin has been like that for as long as I have known him. To claim the heir and CEO titles, he acquired the trust from myself and my colleagues by working with us in sex therapy, only to stab us all in the back. He’s a liar. A total manipulator.” 

And, from personal experiences, you knew that those words could not be more true.

At this point, Toji sank his handsome face into his immense palm. 

“Well, now Naoya Zenin has everything he wants but is still an incompetent asshole. The whole enterprise is hanging by a thread. The entire clan cannot fucking stand him. What’s crazy is that his father Naobito is not doing anything about this, and I cannot tell if that is because the old man is giving his son free passes or because he has finally gotten senile. With Naoya's pettiness, though, the father-son duo have done everything to erase my name from the family, even going as far as to dismiss the executives that I brought onto the management team to undo my legacy.” 

When Toji glanced up to cast his gaze forward, you then suddenly understood that the three other men in the room were more than just his fellow board-licensed colleagues.

You recalled Toji’s words in the Teyvat meeting room.

‘I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office,’ and the puzzle pieces clicked into place from the realization that sex therapy had not been the only thing that Toji had worked with them on—Sukuna, Choso, and Suguru had been executives at the Zenin Corporation reporting to Toji, too. ‘We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.’

Discerning these revelations from your expressions, Toji added in confirmation.

“I had selected these three to oversee the Zenin Corporation’s operations with me,” he said, and you remembered the same conversation in which the men discussed their University of Tokyo studies while Toji listed their previous roles. Sukuna, Economics. “Sukuna, Director of Investments and Real Estate.” Choso, Mechanical Engineering. “Choso, Chief Engineer and Supply Chain Manager.” Suguru, Biology. “Suguru, Healthcare and Innovation Administrator.”

Arguably the most consequential divisions in a conglomerate that spanned numerous sectors, with each department bringing in yen by the billions every year.

‘These guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.’

Learning this about the four therapists added to your fascination. 

For you, the discovery was like uncovering a hidden treasure trove. To imagine everything that the four—as one cohesive unit—had gone through together at the top of the corporate ladder: scrutiny from the media and stakeholders, impromptu meetings that demanded make-or-break decisions, and immediate responses to industry trends and regulations. 

Only for them to be cast aside by no one other than your husband.

In the end, this all made sense.

Now, you understood why the therapists were once incredibly demeaning and belligerent toward you. How could they possibly sympathize with the woman married to the man who had taken virtually everything from them? 

Heck, if you were in their shoes and had no further context, you would hate yourself, too.

Only now were you hearing their perspectives, and you were grateful that—compared to several weeks before—they trusted you enough to open up. 

At last, all you could do was sigh and mutter, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

Sukuna shot back without hesitation, which stunned you given how he had been the one who mocked you the most. Yet, a scintilla of kindness flared in his fiery eyes, so you continued with your tone softer and quieter.

“I feel terrible.” Such vulnerability in front of so many people at once went beyond your comfort zone. “For the unfairness Naoya had brought upon you all, and how I…I can’t change anything. I can’t do anything. All I am is…useless.”

“No, you are powerful,” Suguru interjected this time. “Your husband relies on your public image to keep scrutiny off him. He needs you. He’s been demoralizing you for months because he knows the ball will always be in your court, and never his.”

His words made you stop.

“You truly think so?” you asked.

“Yes.” 

Choso, who replied, seemed honest. 

He was honest. 

He might throw you off from how aloof and stoic his attractive face would appear, but Choso was not a liar.

Bringing your feet off the bed, you slowly swung your feet. 

“I…am surprised you all even want to talk to me.” 

Toji tugged at his dress shirt’s collar and flashed his ink-covered muscles underneath. “What makes you think that?” 

His pointed question made you realize how much Naoya had been fucking with your mind, blaming and villainizing you at every chance, thus devolving you into a spineless worm feeling remorse for every little thing.

Shrugging, you tossed your gaze to the side. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You could have avenged yourself by now. I am Naoya’s wife and Naobito’s daughter-in-law. There had been a thousand chances for you to do something horrible to me: to hurt me, blackmail me, spread dirty rumors about me, but…you haven’t.”  

“Why would I do that?” Toji replied instantly and candidly. Rather than appearing offended by your judgments, he started giving you that look again whenever he had his therapist hat on—the one where he would tilt his head at a slight angle to gauge the sentiments painted across your face. “I could have chosen to be bitter and vengeful for the rest of my life, but I am grateful for what I have. Why let a toxic bunch impact my life? I already told you how that household is an absolute fucking hell. I'm glad I have found an out. At the very least, my son would not have to deal with the crap from my young adult years because you know who is the oldest male in the generation after mine?”

Megumi. 

All gazes now fell upon the younger Fushiguro, who tried to casually shrug the attention off. 

Who cares if I was second-in-line to leading perhaps the most prestigious family in Japan? his nonchalance wanted to convey, but his ears turned pink anyway.  

Toji continued, “Then, of course, there are some people whom I care about a lot.” Using his head, he gestured to the twins. “These girls are the best aunts to my son that I, as a father, could ever ask for. They’re only one year older than Megumi, but Mai and Maki used to go on playdates with him on the weekends, walk him to school every morning, and cook him breakfasts over the holidays. The twins even helped my son take his first steps. There is this one photo we have in the library—I don’t know if you have gotten a chance before to see it. But there’s Mai and Maki, each holding one of Megumi’s little hands back in his chubby toddler days and—” 

“Dad!” a very flustered and irritated teenage boy finally had to say. “This is not the time to talk about that picture!” 

Next to him, a proud Mai and Maki coo and tease their grouchy nephew, poking at his puffed-up cheeks and ruffling his uncombed hair. 

“Aw, is someone a little embarrassed?”

Smiling at the little banter from the trio, Toji did not let them distract him from his conversation with you. “What I’m trying to get at is…life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it,” but his eyes glazed with rue nevertheless, “Now is the perfect time to focus on your well-being. Take a look around this room. A lot of people want to see you leading a fulfilling life, Y/N. A fulfilling life for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, not for anyone in this room, and certainly not for your husband. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—should hold you back from pursuing your health and happiness.” 

While you assumed that your best times were over, Toji reminded you those good days can be brought back with the right attitude. He had a point. Why should you allow your marriage to hinder you from connecting with people whom you care about, working towards the passions that brought you purpose, and feeling the love that you deserve? 

Instead, you should seek every sunrise and sunset as an opportunity to live better and without regrets.

As you ruminated on this different mindset, a sudden knock from the door cut your thoughts short.

Who…

Like you, most others looked around blankly, but Toji ordered from his seat, “Let him in.”

Mai, who stood closest to the entryway, obeyed. 

Once she unlocked the door, the room fell silent save for the footsteps of the man walking in, his soles creating soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Overhead, pale lights revealed the lines etched on his exhausted face, the worry that sat heavily on his chest. 

“Mister Daisuke,” someone eventually acknowledged out of respect.

Your father did not hear the greeting as he searched the room, his sullen gaze darting from face to face until he found you. His shoulders fell from his overwhelming relief. Still in a suit after a long workday, he stumbled forward feebly. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered between steps, scarcely audible. 

He crouched toward the floor once he approached you, and when Suguru transferred your hands into your father’s, you noticed the unstoppable quiver from the latter even as you gripped him tightly in an attempt to stop the tremor. 

His skin was tough, weathered by his additional decades in life. But, in his palms, you found the familiar tenderness that had comforted you since you were a little girl and, in his gaze, you noticed the sadness only found in the despair of a heartbroken parent.

“Thank goodness, you are okay,” and before everyone, tears slipped past his eyes, “I was terrified. I was so scared. When Toji called to tell me you had thrown up and collapsed, do you know how afraid I was?” 

You glanced over at the said therapist, reminding yourself that—if Toji had been the CEO before Naoya—he must have worked very closely with your COO father up until recently. For your father to know exactly where you were and walk in with this expression suggested that the former colleagues had had a lengthy conversation about your circumstances. A part of you wanted to be angry. Why drag your father into this worry? But a larger part of you had always wanted to reveal to him the wretched months that had gone by and longed for his support. 

And now, he was here.

The older man took a shuddering breath and brought his fingers to your cheek, holding and cradling you like he would never get to do this again. 

“I can’t lose you,” he lamented. “I have lost enough in my life already. I cannot lose you, too. I just can’t. Why have you not told me the truth? If you were not happy with Naoya, why have you not told me sooner? Did you think I would place my loyalty to the company over my own child? I feel so guilty and broken to hear about what you have been going through.”

Frankly, you felt just as broken, too. 

In fact, seeing and hearing your father weep like this shattered you. As devoted as your father was, his front never failed to be unwavering and strong. Even when your mother’s death left a significant hole in his heart, he bit back his grief. Scars from your mother’s untimely death scarred his heart, wounds that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath, but he rarely expressed his suppressed sorrow. 

All for your sake. Because you were his one and only daughter, his one and only child. 

So now, for him to see you in such a sorry state was crushing his whole world that had become you.

“Dad.” You helped him wipe his tears away, just like how he had always done for you. “I didn’t want to make you disappointed. I didn’t want to make you sad. I…I just wanted to protect you.”

“No,” he responded firmly. How could a loving father accept the possibility that his daughter would even think about placing him before herself? “Protect yourself first.”

You looked up when you sensed two more approaching individuals and found Mai and Maki with doleful smiles.

“We still have something to return to you, Y/N.”

In your left palm, each girl pressed one ring—the first which promised a future forever and the second which symbolized an infinite unity. 

You stared at the jewelry as your chest remembered the waves of happiness, excitement, hope, confusion, betrayal, and pain. 

So, so much pain.

Your father, who would not miss the solemn undertones in your gaze, squeezed your hands in his. 

“My dear daughter,” he started, and you could tell he could no longer bear to see you suffer any longer, “what are you planning to do?”

Your throat turned dry.

Any possibility seemed like a viable solution, a means for a desperate escape. 

For months, you should have prepared yourself for this very question, but now that you were confronted with this reality for the first time, you did not know what to say. 

You had clutched onto the false hope for your troubled marriage to be sorted out. Escaping your dreary matrimony had once been too far-fetched of an option given an impending cold war between your families, which you would never wish upon the stars to happen. Therefore, even as you found yourself stuck on a stifling dead end, you did not exactly prepare for the next steps for the occasion you found Naoya Zenin’s mistreatment too much to bear.

However, times have changed.

Your allies and enemies have changed.

Most of all, you have changed.

Therefore, with all the universe’s possibilities at your fingertips, one particular option stuck out. 

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: So many things. To see us freak out at the idea of a divorce during the beginning of the fic, up to now, where we suggested the option out of our volution. Also, the much-needed heart-to-heart conversation between Toji and us, and how that really shows a slow maturation in our relationship with him (and everyone else)! Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter!

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