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valleyofheartz · 2 months

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I Love You, I’m Sorry

University AU

Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.

Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!

two August’s ago, you fell in love.

you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.

you remember everything.

bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.

it was under the tree you found your muse.

you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.

and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.

(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)

you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.

✾

the second time you see him is at a party.

you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.

you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.

“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.

you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”

Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”

you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.

Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.

“Watch it, are you drunk already?”

Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”

you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.

“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.

you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.

you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.

you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.

Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.

you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”

he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.

despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.

and then, your eyes land on him.

he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.

broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.

his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.

when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.

you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.

“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.

you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”

he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.

“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.

you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“

Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.

“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”

when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.

your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.

what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.

“Oh, your man is looking here.”

maybe not.

“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”

he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”

you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”

“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.

you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.

you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.

“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.

you always loved dark chocolate.

the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.

✾

a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.

you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.

you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.

you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.

“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.

it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.

the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”

you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”

he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”

you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”

you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”

you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.

you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.

you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.

he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”

you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”

“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”

he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.

suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.

you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.

✾

a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.

it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.

so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.

he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.

and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.

“Y/n, we need to shower.”

“One minute.” you mumble quietly.

you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.

you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.

you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”

he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”

you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.

“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.

when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.

you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.

his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”

you hum in response.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.

your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.

so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.

you’re okay with having him to this extent.

you’re okay.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”

✾

five months later, everything is the same.

and yet, nothing is the same.

“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.

you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”

Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.

Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”

Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”

“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”

you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”

he salutes you with a cute little grin.

so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.

naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.

✾

everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.

you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.

it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.

until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.

she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.

Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.

when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”

your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.

when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.

she’s sticking to him like a leech.

you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.

“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.

he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.

the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.

“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”

he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”

you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”

his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”

without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.

the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.

you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.

“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.

you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”

he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.

“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.

you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.

you see red.

because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.

without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.

he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.

suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.

the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”

your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.

the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.

when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.

“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.

you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”

he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”

surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.

you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.

maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.

“I never liked that about you.”

it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.

“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.

“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.

his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.

“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.

“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.

“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.

you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”

you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.

“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

it’s him.

and fuck, it’s always him.

✾

two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.

he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.

happiness.

Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?

he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.

and then his thoughts go back to happiness.

oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.

“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.

Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”

the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”

and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”

Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.

Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”

Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.

if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.

when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.

it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.

he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.

and then… he ruined everything.

he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.

it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.

he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.

he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.

fuck.

he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.

but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.

it can’t end here.

he makes it his mission to try to meet you.

first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.

except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.

the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I deserve this, he acknowledges.

I deserve this and worse.

it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.

so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.

and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.

the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.

unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.

third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.

it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.

“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”

he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.

“I’m not sure.” he states quietly.

“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”

he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”

she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.

and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.

silence.

he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.

he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.

he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.

so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.

he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.

he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.

“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.

Sakusa hates it.

his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”

he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”

Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”

Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.

“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”

he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.

“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”

Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”

Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”

“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.

“Y/n will be there.”

that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.

Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”

he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.

but now everything’s different.

now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.

“I’ll go.”

✾

the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.

he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.

“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.

Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”

Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.

the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.

when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.

“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.

Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”

Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”

he scowls, “Why would that matter?”

“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”

something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.

a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.

but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?

he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.

his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.

maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.

and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.

his heart beats loudly in his chest.

he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.

ah.

so he loves you.

Sakusa waits.

he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.

it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.

he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.

he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.

he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.

“Hey.”

his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.

your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.

he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”

Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.

Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.

“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.

Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”

“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.

Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.

he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.

Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.

“But-”

you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.

he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”

Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?

you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.

he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.

you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”

he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.

“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”

you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”

he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.

“I miss you.”

the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.

god, why did he just say that?

you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”

his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.

“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”

you stare at him silently, before nodding.

Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”

he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”

he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.

“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”

your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”

he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”

the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.

“I love you, Y/n.”

you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”

he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.

“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.

you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.

Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.

he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.

✾

"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.

so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.

but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.

you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.

but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.

the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.

without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.

the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.

you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.

why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?

but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.

someone like him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.

you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.

you really wish you could stop thinking about him.

Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.

its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.

your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.

its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.

fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.

you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.

you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.

when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.

your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.

you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.

you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.

you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.

he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.

you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.

"He's gone." he says, voice low.

you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.

"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.

he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.

you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.

Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."

you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."

you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.

you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.

the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.

he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.

when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.

you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"

he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."

the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."

he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.

but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.

he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.

"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.

he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."

you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."

"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.

"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.

he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.

you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.

but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.

"Okay." you say softly.

he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"

you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."

he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.

you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.

but that was a problem for the future.

for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.

EXTRA:

"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.

he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.

you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."

you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."

you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."

he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."

you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"

he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."

you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."

the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.

love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.

because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.

you love him, and you're not sorry.

a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa angst #haikyuu angst to fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x y/n #sakusa imagines

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hangmanssunnies · 11 months

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Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship.

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts.

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills.

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up.

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along.

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually.

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response.

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds.

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request.

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?"

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him.

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?"

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries.

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm.

"And what?" Jake asks.

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail."

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson.

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you.

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead.

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste.

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

"Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson.

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes."

"Now, darling," Jake drawls.

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured.

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."

"How is that fair?"

"It's fair because he is my godson."

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?"

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?"

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling.

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on."

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face.

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though.

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need.

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil.

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over.

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit,"

"You were really great with him today."

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic.

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking.

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly.

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?"

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake."

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately.

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke."

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends."

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous.

"I'm sorry, Dolly."

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?"

"What?"

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone.

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe."

"I could help you find someone," he offers.

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you."

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out."

"No —"

"Harvard—"

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument.

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends."

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack.

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher.

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide.

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go."

"We have to," you insist.

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option."

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now."

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you.

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace.

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?"

"I thought so."

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not."

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow."

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway.

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door.

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened.

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship."

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns.

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy."

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs.

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him.

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath.

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first."

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much.

"May I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more.

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it.

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again.

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling.

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead.

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight."

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner.

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours.

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you.

"You didn't?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion.

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans.

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way."

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby."

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage.

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you."

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross."

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?"

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —"

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid.

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly.

"Then why are you all the way over there?"

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself."

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are.

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him.

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly.

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?"

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours."

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed.

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is.

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch.

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you.

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like.

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body.

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin.

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?"

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips.

"I want to. Do you not want me to?"

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out.

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing."

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you.

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

"I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter.

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?"

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well.

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby."

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about.

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though.

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present.

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard.

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes.

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously.

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises.

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you.

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too.

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this.

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time.

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily.

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out.

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him.

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you.

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you."

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?"

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly.

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more.

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm.

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him.

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak.

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?"

"Do you?" You wonder.

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him.

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry."

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby."

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you.

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin.

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?"

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation.

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back.

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile.

"Hey baby," he whispers.

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together.

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand.

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention.

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved."

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow."

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #hangman imagine #hot hot hot!#hoeing for hangman

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noirflms · 5 months

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THE HOUSEHUSBAND LIFE — hq men

haikyuu men as househusbands. or haikyuu men who’d be good househusbands in general.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ AKAASHI KEIJI !

he is the one who keeps track of finance in the house , keeps track of how much you should spend even if you get a six-sum salary and love spending it on him even if he doesn't like it because he wants you to save for the future.

he also pretty much cooks all sorts of dishes and morning tea made by him is served to you in bed , he is just the best. buys groceries when you're out to work , keeps the house neat and clean — it's a penthouse so it's not much work as it's not that dirty all the time — keeps track of your health and if you're pretty much not skipping breakfast or lunch cuz he's there to spoon feed you at dinner.

he's not much fan of laundry just knows he has to fold it and keep it neatly in your shared closet and is pretty much a the best husband of all ( according to your mother ).

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ SUGAWARA KOUSHI !

he is that type of house-husband who actually takes care of the loundry more than cooking and cleaning but still cleans the house just the way you like it — organized and neatly done. he doesn't step in the kitchen for he knows he might burn whatever he cooks so you don't let him step in there , it's either you come home and cook but if your tired , it's take out time!

whenever he does laundry he has a habit of smelling the clothes before folding for he like the smell of the detergent you use and the clothing softener should be if the best company because that is kinda professional when you go to work wearing soft and clean clothes.

dusts around the house with music playing in the background and does all the cleaning while blasting Oliva Rodrigo on the amazon echo you brought so he won't have to go on connecting his phone to the Bluetooth other than that he is just the best husband you could ask for.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ KITA SHINSUKE !

he is the package , can cook , cleans , does laundry , keeps track of all budgets and savings , knows every nook and cranny of the house and is happy being a house-husband for you. kita buys the best clothing softener and detergent , is a man of his words for if he promises breakfast in bed for you then you get it.

he sets up the house according to a taste that suits him and you like almsot all the time after seeing it on pinterest — yes HE HAS PINTEREST and you can't change my mind — cooks the best meals like you're in heaven to be eating such delicious meals , laundry is done and the house smells like lavander and you don't know how he does that and he keep it a secret ( it's just him using scented house cleaning stuff ).

grocery shopping is done with you because it's to lonely for him to go out so it's shopping time on the weekends , he is like a stay at home mum but you love him and for god sake who wouldn't want a man like KITA SHINSUKE.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI !

you enter the house with the smell of the most delicious food being cooked and when I say delicious , it's over the top delicious. he loves cooking so much that he forgets he has to clean as well and do laundry. yamaguchi almost does everything before stepping into the kitchen and prepare a bento for you in the early morning with starting to think for dinner — even though lunch is not even thought out yet — and what to be baked when your home.

it may not seem like but he has a passion for baking good for you.

he blasts playlist made for him by you and tsukki , and does the cleaning and laundry because sometimes it's to lonely in the house , he keeps track of time and when you're gonna come so he could prepare a bubble bath and then start with the cooking so you could have been relaxed and come eat with him.

when it's a weekend , he wakes up late but the breakfast is in his hands to be cooked , and in the evening it's time for him and you to have a baking session and you cherish this baby more than anything.

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bratzkoo · 22 days

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skin | joshua

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: university student! joshua x university student! reader Genre: angst, fluff Rating: PG-15 Word count: 7.3k Warnings/note: inspired by sabrina carpenter's skin and olivia rodrigo's driver's license. joshua hong is the loml. bit of a long read.

summary: you’re doing great with your boyfriend of 5 months but when his ex drops a podcast talking about their past relationship and indirectly mentions you, your relationship takes on challenges you don’t know if you can handle.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

You never expected to fall in love in college, let alone with someone like Hong Joshua. As one of the most popular students at your university, you were used to attention, but Joshua was different. He saw beyond your carefully curated image, past the smiles and the social ease, right to the core of who you were.

Your relationship started slowly, tentatively. Coffee dates that turned into long walks around campus, stolen glances during lectures, and late-night study sessions that had more to do with learning each other than any subject material. You remembered the first time you really noticed him, in your shared Literature class. He was sitting two rows ahead, his dark hair slightly tousled, completely engrossed in the professor's lecture on romantic poetry.

As you watched him scribble notes furiously, his brow furrowed in concentration, you felt a strange flutter in your chest. It wasn't just that he was handsome – though he undeniably was – but there was something about the intensity of his focus, the way he seemed to lose himself in the words, that drew you in.

After class, you found yourself lingering, pretending to organize your bag as you watched him from the corner of your eye. To your surprise, he approached you, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "I'm Joshua. I've seen you around campus, but I don't think we've officially met."

You introduced yourself, trying to ignore the way your heart raced as he shook your hand. His touch was warm, his grip firm but gentle.

"I was wondering," he continued, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice, "if you'd like to grab coffee sometime? I could use a study partner for the upcoming exam, and you always seem to have great insights in class."

You found yourself nodding before you even fully processed his words. "I'd love to," you replied, surprised by how steady your voice sounded despite the butterflies in your stomach.

That first coffee date turned into two, then three, then countless more. You discovered that Joshua was not just handsome and smart, but also kind, funny, and surprisingly vulnerable. He told you about his dreams of becoming a singer, how he'd spend hours practicing in the shower or humming melodies under his breath.

"My parents want me to have a 'practical' career," he confided one evening, as you sat together on a bench overlooking the campus lake. "But music... it's like breathing to me. I can't imagine my life without it."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Then don't give it up," you said softly. "You have an amazing voice, Joshua. The world deserves to hear it."

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with something that made your breath catch in your throat. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you replied, and the smile he gave you in return was brighter than any star in the sky.

Before you knew it, five months had passed, and you were head over heels. Joshua had become not just your boyfriend, but your best friend, your confidant, your rock. He was the first person you wanted to share good news with, the one you turned to when you were feeling down.

One particularly memorable evening, you and Joshua strolled across campus, your fingers intertwined. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn, and the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. You couldn't help but smile as you caught him humming softly under his breath – a habit you'd grown to adore over the past five months.

"What's that song?" you asked, nudging him playfully.

Joshua's cheeks flushed slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Oh, just something I've been working on. It's not ready yet."

You squeezed his hand encouragingly, your heart swelling with affection. "I'm sure it's beautiful. You know I love hearing you sing."

His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and something deeper – a vulnerability that both thrilled and scared you. "Maybe I'll play it for you someday," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you approached the campus coffee shop, a group of girls whispered and giggled, their eyes fixed on Joshua. You were used to this by now – being with one of the most popular guys on campus came with its share of attention. But Joshua seemed oblivious, his focus solely on you.

Inside the coffee shop, as you waited for your orders, you noticed Joshua's gaze drift to a couple in the corner. A flicker of emotion – was it sadness? – crossed his face before he quickly looked away.

"Joshua?" you probed gently, concern creeping into your voice. "Is everything okay?"

He plastered on a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course. Just thinking about that assignment for Professor Kim's class."

You knew he was deflecting, but you didn't push. There was still so much about Joshua's past that remained a mystery to you. You'd learned early on that he was intensely private about certain aspects of his life, particularly his romantic history. Whenever you tried to broach the subject of past relationships, he'd change the topic or gently steer the conversation in a different direction.

You noticed that all the pictures on his social media only went back about a year, as if his life before that had been carefully erased. It was as though he was trying to start fresh, to reinvent himself. Part of you was curious, even a little worried about what he might be hiding. But another part of you trusted him implicitly, believing that if it was important, he'd tell you when he was ready.

"Don't worry about the past," he'd tell you whenever you hinted at wanting to know more, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're my present and my future."

And for a while, that was enough. The way Joshua looked at you, the way he held you, the way he seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them – it all made you feel cherished, loved in a way you'd never experienced before. You told yourself that everyone had a past, and what mattered was the here and now.

But there were moments, fleeting and rare, when you'd catch a shadow pass over Joshua's face. A song on the radio would make him go quiet, or a certain scent would cause him to tense up momentarily. In those moments, you felt the weight of his unspoken history, and you couldn't help but wonder about the ghosts that still seemed to haunt him.

Despite these occasional moments of uncertainty, your relationship with Joshua continued to blossom. You fell into a comfortable rhythm, your lives intertwining in a way that felt both exciting and incredibly natural. Joshua became a fixture in your apartment, his textbooks mingling with yours on your desk, his hoodie draped over your chair.

Your friends teased you good-naturedly about how inseparable you'd become. "It's like you two are joined at the hip," your housemate Anna would say, rolling her eyes but smiling affectionately.

You couldn't deny it. Being with Joshua felt right in a way you couldn't quite explain. It was as if you'd found a piece of yourself you didn't even know was missing.

One night, as you lay tangled together on your bed, Joshua trailing lazy kisses along your collarbone, you felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"Joshua," you whispered, your voice thick with feeling.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Yeah?"

"I... I love you," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You'd never said it before, had been too scared of the vulnerability it implied. But in that moment, with Joshua's arms around you and his heartbeat steady against your chest, you couldn't hold it back any longer.

For a moment, Joshua went very still, and you felt a flicker of panic. Had you said it too soon? But then his face broke into the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "God, Y/N, I love you so much."

He kissed you then, pouring all his feelings into it, and you felt as though your heart might burst from happiness.

It was in moments like these that you forgot about the mysteries in Joshua's past, about the sadness that sometimes lingered in his eyes. All that mattered was the love you shared, the future you were building together.

But life, as you were about to learn, had a way of bringing the past crashing into the present when you least expected it.

It was an ordinary Friday when your world turned upside down. You were walking across campus, hand in hand with Joshua, discussing your plans for the weekend. The air was buzzing with the usual energy of students eager for the week to end, but something felt off. You noticed people staring more than usual, whispers following in your wake.

"Is it just me," you said to Joshua, trying to keep your voice light, "or are people acting weird today?"

Joshua frowned, his eyes scanning the faces around you. "Yeah, something's definitely up. But I have no idea what."

It wasn't until you got to class that you found out. Your best friend, Ela, pulled you aside before you could take your seat, her face a mask of concern.

"Have you heard the podcast?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

You blinked, confused. "What podcast?"

Ela bit her lip, then pulled out her phone. "It's gone viral on campus. Everyone's talking about it. I... I think you need to hear this."

As she pressed play, a soft voice filled the air. "I thought he was my forever," the voice said, tinged with sadness. "He promised me the world, promised me eternity. But I guess forever has an expiration date."

Your heart sank as you listened, a cold dread settling in your stomach. The girl on the podcast never mentioned names, but the details were too specific to be coincidence. She talked about a boy who loved to sing, who had a smile that could melt hearts, who dreamed of becoming a performer.

She talked about Joshua. Your Joshua.

"And now he has a new girlfriend," the voice continued, a hint of bitterness creeping in. "She's everything I'm not. She’s popular, I saw her pictures and she’s so beautiful and she smiles pretty, and she has a lot of friends, and I bet she can parallel park. Everything I was always insecure about."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. This was Joshua's ex, laying bare all the pain and heartbreak for the world to hear. And in doing so, she'd inadvertently put a target on your back.

"Ela," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "how many people have heard this?"

Your friend's expression was grim. "It's everywhere, Y/N. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok... people are reposting it like crazy."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "Does... does Joshua know?"

"I don't think so," Ela replied. "At least, not yet. But Y/N... you need to talk to him. This is going to blow up, and fast."

You nodded, feeling numb. "I will. After class. I just... I need a moment to process this."

But as you sat through the lecture, you couldn't focus on a single word the professor said. Your mind was racing, replaying every moment with Joshua, every conversation, every tender look. Had it all been a lie? Was he still in love with his ex? And why hadn't he told you about her?

As soon as class ended, you rushed out, your heart pounding. You needed to find Joshua, to hear his side of the story. But as you stepped into the hallway, you were met with a sea of stares and whispers.

"That's her," you heard someone say. "The new girlfriend."

"I can't believe she'd do that to Yunha," another voice chimed in. "They were so perfect together."

You pushed through the crowd, fighting back tears. This couldn't be happening. It felt like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

You found Joshua outside the music building, his face pale and drawn. When he saw you, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and fear.

"Y/N," he said, reaching for you. "I can explain-"

But before he could say another word, you felt your world tilt on its axis. The stress, the shock, and the emotional turmoil of the day caught up with you all at once. Your vision blurred, your legs gave out, and the last thing you heard was Joshua calling your name as darkness enveloped you.

When you woke up, you were in the campus infirmary, the harsh fluorescent lights making you squint. Joshua was by your side, holding your hand, his face etched with worry.

"Hey," he said softly as your eyes fluttered open. "How are you feeling?"

You tried to sit up, wincing at the throbbing in your head. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Joshua explained, helping you into a sitting position. "The nurse said it was probably due to stress and low blood sugar. You've been out for about an hour."

As the fog in your mind cleared, the events of the day came rushing back. The podcast, the whispers, the revelations about Joshua's past. You pulled your hand away from his, suddenly feeling like you were touching a stranger.

"Joshua," you said, your voice hoarse, "we need to talk about the podcast."

He closed his eyes, pain etched across his features. "I know. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I should have told you about Yunha, about our history. I just... I thought if I could just start fresh, leave all that in the past, it wouldn't matter anymore."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. "But it does matter, Joshua. It matters because now the whole campus thinks I'm some kind of homewrecker. It matters because you kept this huge part of your life from me. How am I supposed to trust you after this?"

Joshua reached for your hand again, and this time you let him take it. "I know I messed up," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But Y/N, you have to believe me when I say that what I feel for you is real. More real than anything I've ever felt before."

You wanted to believe him. God knows, how you wanted to believe him. But the doubt had taken root, and you couldn't shake the feeling that everything you thought you knew about your relationship had been built on a foundation of lies.

"I need time," you said finally, pulling your hand away. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

The look of hurt on Joshua's face made your heart ache, but you knew you needed space to sort out your feelings. He nodded, standing up slowly.

"Of course," he said softly. "Take all the time you need. Just... please don't shut me out completely. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

As he left the infirmary, you felt a piece of your heart go with him. But you also felt a resolve hardening within you. You needed answers, and you were determined to get them – no matter how painful they might be.

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you, hear the whispers behind your back. People you thought were friends suddenly became cold and distant. Your Instagram, once filled with supportive comments and likes, became a battleground of hate and accusations.

"Home wrecker," one comment read. "How does it feel to steal someone else's happiness?"

Another was even more vicious: "You don't deserve him. Yunha and Joshua were soulmates. You're just a pretty distraction."

You tried to brush it off, to hold your head high, but each comment felt like a dagger to your heart. Even worse was the way some of your so-called friends began to distance themselves, afraid of being associated with the scandal.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," your classmate Hoshi said awkwardly one day after class. "It's just... people are talking, you know? And my girlfriend thinks maybe we shouldn't hang out so much anymore."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral even as you felt another piece of your world crumbling. "It's fine, Hoshi. I understand."

But you didn't understand. Not really. How could people be so quick to judge, so eager to believe the worst about you without even knowing the full story?

You threw yourself into your studies, spending long hours in the library, trying to drown out the whispers and stares with the comforting rustle of pages and the scratch of your pen. But even in the quiet sanctuary of the stacks, you couldn't escape the weight of judgment that seemed to follow you everywhere.

One evening, as you were poring over your textbooks, you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, you saw Anna, your roommate, hovering uncertainly.

"Hey," she said softly, sliding into the chair across from you. "I've been worried about you. You've barely been in the room lately."

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just been busy with studying."

Anna reached out, gently closing your book. "Y/N, talk to me. Please. I know things have been rough, but I'm still your friend. I want to help."

Something in her tone, the genuine concern in her eyes, made the walls you'd built up over the past weeks crumble. Before you knew it, you were sobbing quietly, your shoulders shaking as Anna moved to wrap her arms around you.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered between sobs. "Everything's such a mess. I love Joshua, I really do, but how can I trust him after this? And everyone on campus hates me for something I didn't even do."

Anna stroked your hair soothingly. "Not everyone hates you, Y/N. The people who matter know you're not the person they're making you out to be. And as for Joshua... have you talked to him since that day?"

You shook your head. "I've been avoiding him. I just... I don't know what to say."

"Maybe it's time you did," Anna suggested gently. "You can't run from this forever. And who knows? Maybe hearing his side of the story will help you make sense of things."

You knew she was right, but the thought of facing Joshua, of reopening the wounds that were just starting to scab over, made your stomach churn with anxiety.

"I'll think about it," you promised, wiping your eyes. "Thanks, Anna. For being here, for not judging me."

She squeezed your hand. "That's what friends are for. And Y/N? Remember, this will pass. It might not feel like it now, but it will. You're stronger than you think."

Her words stayed with you as you packed up your books and made your way back to your apartment. The campus was quiet, most students already settled in for the night. As you walked, you found yourself thinking about Joshua, wondering what he was doing, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Almost without realizing it, your feet had carried you to his dorm building. You stood there for a long moment, debating whether to go in or turn back. Finally, taking a deep breath, you made your decision.

The walk to Joshua's room felt both endless and far too short. Before you were ready, you found yourself standing in front of his door, your heart pounding. You raised your hand to knock, then hesitated. What if he wasn't alone? What if he didn't want to see you?

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open. Joshua stood there, looking as surprised to see you as you were to suddenly be face-to-face with him. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair messy as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"Y/N," he breathed, his eyes wide. "I... what are you doing here?"

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "I think... I think it's time we talked."

Joshua nodded, stepping back to let you in. His room was a mess, clothes strewn about, empty coffee cups littering his desk. It was so unlike the usually tidy Joshua that it made your heart ache.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, hurriedly clearing some books off his bed so you could sit. "I haven't been... I mean, things have been..."

"Rough?" you supplied, and he nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"Yeah. Rough."

You sat on the edge of his bed, and he took the chair at his desk, leaving a careful distance between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with all the things left unsaid.

Finally, you took a deep breath. "Joshua, I need to know the truth. All of it. About Yunha, about your relationship, about why you never told me."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "I know I owe you an explanation. I just... I don't know where to start."

"The beginning," you said softly. "Start at the beginning."

And so he did. He told you about meeting Yunha in high school, how they'd bonded over their shared love of music. How their relationship had started as a friendship and slowly blossomed into something more.

"She was my first love," Joshua admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I really thought we'd be together forever. We had all these plans, you know? We were going to go to the same college, pursue our dreams together."

"What changed?" you asked, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy you felt at the obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of Yunha.

Joshua's expression darkened. "Life changed. I got accepted here on a music scholarship, but Yunha... she didn't get in. We tried long-distance for a while, but it was hard. We were both changing, growing in different directions. And then..."

He trailed off, looking away. You waited, your heart pounding.

"And then?" you prompted gently.

Joshua took a shaky breath. "And then I met you. And everything changed again. I didn't mean for it to happen, Y/N. I wasn't looking to fall in love. But being with you... it felt right in a way nothing ever had before. It scared me how quickly and deeply I fell for you."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes. "So what happened with Yunha?"

"I broke up with her," Joshua said, his voice heavy with regret. "Over the phone. God, I was such a coward. I told her I couldn't do the long-distance thing anymore, that we were growing apart. But the truth is, I was already falling for you, even if I hadn't admitted it to myself yet."

The pieces were starting to fall into place, but there was still one thing you didn't understand. "Why didn't you tell me about her, Joshua? Why keep it a secret?"

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and pleading. "Because I was afraid. Afraid that if you knew about Yunha, about how badly I'd hurt her, you wouldn't want to be with me. I thought if I could just start fresh, be the person I wanted to be with you, maybe I could leave all that guilt and pain behind."

You sat there, processing everything he'd said. Part of you understood his fear, his desire to start anew. But another part of you was hurt that he hadn't trusted you enough to be honest from the beginning.

"Joshua," you said finally, "I appreciate you telling me all this. But... it doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. By omission, maybe, but still. How can I trust you after this?"

He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I should have been honest from the start. But please believe me when I say that everything between us has been real. My feelings for you, they're more real than anything I've ever felt."

You wanted to believe him. God, how you wanted to. But the doubt that had taken root was hard to shake.

"I need time," you said, standing up. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

Joshua nodded, his expression a mixture of hope and resignation. "Of course. Take all the time you need. Just... please don't give up on us, Y/N. I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

As you left his room, you felt a strange mixture of emotions. Relief at finally knowing the truth, pain at the realization of how much hurt your relationship had caused, and a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find a way through this.

But even as you tried to sort through your feelings, you knew that the hardest part was yet to come. The campus was still buzzing with gossip, and you were still at the center of it all. How could you and Joshua ever move forward when the whole world seemed determined to tear you apart?

The next day, as you walked to class, you could feel the weight of stares on you. But something had changed. Maybe it was the conversation with Joshua, or maybe it was just that you'd reached your breaking point, but suddenly, you were tired of being the victim.

You straightened your shoulders, held your head high, and met the stares head-on. You were not the villain in this story, and you were done letting others make you feel like one.

In your Literature class, you found yourself sitting next to a girl named Soo-yun, someone you'd never really talked to before. To your surprise, she turned to you with a small smile.

"Hey," she said softly. "I just wanted to say... I think it's really brave, how you're handling all of this. I can't imagine how hard it must be."

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn't know how to respond. "I... thank you," you finally managed. "It means a lot to hear that."

Soo-yun nodded. "I know we don't really know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with at lunch so you're not alone, I'm here."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by this unexpected kindness. "I might take you up on that," you said, offering a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in weeks.

As the days passed, you found small pockets of support like this. Not everyone believed the rumors, and those who took the time to get to know you often found that the reality was far different from the gossip.

But even as things began to improve slightly on campus, you still struggled with your feelings for Joshua. You missed him desperately, but the hurt and betrayal still stung. You found yourself replaying your conversations, analyzing every interaction, trying to separate the truth from the lies.

One afternoon, as you sat in the campus coffee shop, lost in thought, a familiar voice broke through your reverie.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up to see Joshua standing there, two cups of coffee in hand, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you gestured to the empty chair across from you. "It's all yours."

Joshua sat down, sliding one of the coffees towards you. "I got your usual," he said softly. "I hope that's okay."

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. "Thanks."

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. Finally, Joshua took a deep breath.

"Y/N, I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began. "About us, about everything that's happened. And I realized something. I've been so focused on trying to escape my past, on being the person I thought you wanted me to be, that I lost sight of who I really am."

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "What do you mean?"

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness. "I mean that I've been trying so hard to be perfect for you that I forgot that it was my imperfections, my past, all of it, that made me who I am. And who I am is someone who loves you, completely and utterly. Not because you're perfect, but because you're you."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, but you forced yourself to stay calm. "Joshua, I appreciate what you're saying, but-"

He held up a hand, cutting you off gently. "Please, let me finish. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and Yunha, and probably a lot of other people along the way. But I'm done running from my mistakes. I want to own them, learn from them, and hopefully, if you'll let me, make things right."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw, honest emotion.

"What are you saying, Joshua?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached across the table, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. "I'm saying that I love you, Y/N. All of you. And I want you to know all of me. The good, the bad, the parts I'm proud of and the parts I'm not. If you'll give me another chance, I promise to be completely honest with you, always."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. Slowly, you reached out, closing the distance between your hands.

"I can't promise it'll be easy," you said softly. "There's a lot of trust to rebuild."

Joshua nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes. For as long as it takes."

As you sat there, your hands intertwined, you felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find your way back to each other.

In the weeks that followed, you and Joshua took small, tentative steps towards rebuilding your relationship. You started with coffee dates, just like in the beginning, relearning each other and having the honest conversations you should have had from the start.

Joshua opened up about his past, sharing stories about his relationship with Yunha, his struggles with self-doubt, and his fears about the future. You, in turn, shared your own insecurities and the pain you'd experienced during the podcast fallout.

It wasn't always easy. There were moments of tension, of old hurts resurfacing. But there were also moments of laughter, of rediscovering the connection that had drawn you together in the first place.

Slowly but surely, the storm began to pass. People found new gossip to occupy themselves with, and the hateful comments began to taper off. You never heard directly from Yunha, but the original podcast was taken down, and you liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she had found her own path to healing.

A year after the podcast incident, you and Joshua sat on the roof of your dorm, watching the sunset. Your hands were intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder. The campus sprawled out below you, peaceful in the fading light.

"Do you ever regret it?" you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Getting involved with me, going through all of that?"

Joshua was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took your breath away.

"Never," he said firmly, squeezing your hand. "What we went through... it was hard, yeah. But it made us stronger. It showed me that what we have is real, that it can withstand anything."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "I feel the same way," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've come so far, haven't we?"

Joshua smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We have. And we still have so far to go. But Y/N, I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and loved in a way you'd never experienced before. "I like the sound of that," you murmured. "Together."

As you sat there, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the sky in vibrant hues, you reflected on the journey that had brought you to this moment. The pain, the growth, the love that had weathered the storm and come out stronger on the other side.

You might not have a ring on your finger, might not have all the answers about what the future held. But you had something far more valuable – a love that had been tested by fire and emerged stronger for it. A love built on honesty, on acceptance of each other's flaws and imperfections.

The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities and challenges. But with Joshua by your side, you felt ready to take on whatever life might throw your way, one day at a time.

As the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Joshua began to hum softly, a melody you hadn't heard before. You closed your eyes, letting the gentle tune wash over you.

"Is that a new song?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

Joshua nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I've been working on it for a while now. It's... well, it's about us. About everything we've been through."

Your heart swelled with emotion. "Can I hear it? The whole thing, I mean."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, but remember it's still a work in progress."

Clearing his throat, Joshua began to sing softly, his voice carrying on the gentle evening breeze.

As the last note faded away, you found yourself wiping tears from your eyes. The raw emotion in Joshua's voice, the honesty of the lyrics – it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Joshua," you breathed, "that was beautiful. I can't believe you wrote that for us."

He ducked his head, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I wanted to capture everything we've been through, everything we mean to each other. I know it's not perfect-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

"It's perfect because it's us," you said softly. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Joshua pulled you closer, and you settled back against him, both of you content to watch as the sky darkened and more stars appeared.

"You know," Joshua said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "a year ago, I never would have had the courage to share an unfinished song like that. I was so caught up in trying to be perfect, in hiding the messy parts of myself."

You nodded, understanding. "And now?"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now I know that it's okay to be a work in progress. That the people who truly love you will accept all of you, rough edges and all."

His words resonated deeply with you. Over the past year, you'd both learned so much about vulnerability, about the strength that comes from being truly seen and accepted.

"Speaking of works in progress," you said, sitting up to look at him, "have you given any more thought to what you want to do after graduation? It's coming up faster than we think."

Joshua's expression turned serious. "I have, actually. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

You waited, giving him space to gather his thoughts.

"I want to pursue music," he said finally, his voice firm with resolve. "Not just as a hobby, but as a career. I know it won't be easy, and my parents probably won't be thrilled, but... it's what I love. It's who I am."

Pride swelled in your chest. You knew how much courage it took for Joshua to choose this path, to prioritize his passion over the safer, more conventional career his parents had always envisioned for him.

"I'm so proud of you," you said, squeezing his hand. "And I'll be right there supporting you every step of the way."

Joshua's eyes shone with gratitude. "What about you? Have you decided on grad school?"

You nodded, excitement bubbling up inside you. "I got the acceptance letter yesterday. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

"Y/N, that's amazing!" Joshua exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you could do it. You're going to be an incredible psychologist."

As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of rightness settle over you. This was what love was supposed to be – supporting each other's dreams, celebrating each other's successes.

"You know," you said as you pulled back, "we should probably start thinking about where we're going to live after graduation. With you pursuing music and me starting grad school, we might need to look into getting an apartment together."

The words were out before you fully realized the weight of what you were suggesting. Living together was a big step, one you hadn't really discussed before.

Joshua's eyes widened slightly, but then a slow smile spread across his face. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Y/N?"

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you held his gaze. "I guess I am. What do you think?"

He pretended to consider it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let me think. Waking up next to you every morning, making breakfast together, having a space that's truly ours... Yeah, I think I could get on board with that."

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. "Is that a yes, then?"

Joshua's expression softened, becoming serious again. "It's absolutely a yes. I love you, Y/N, and nothing would make me happier than building a life with you."

As you sealed the decision with a kiss, you felt a sense of excitement for the future bubbling up inside you. You knew there would be challenges ahead – the stress of grad school, the uncertainty of Joshua's music career, the everyday trials of living together for the first time. But you also knew that together, you could handle anything life threw your way.

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity. Between finishing up your final semester, apartment hunting, and preparing for the next chapter of your lives, you and Joshua barely had a moment to breathe. But through it all, your relationship continued to grow stronger.

You found a small apartment not far from campus, cozy and full of character. The day you moved in, surrounded by boxes and the chaos of merging two lives into one space, you couldn't stop smiling. This was the beginning of something new, something uniquely yours and Joshua's.

As you unpacked, you came across a familiar box – the one where you'd stored all the mementos from your relationship. Concert tickets, dried flowers, handwritten notes. But there was something new tucked inside, something you didn't recognize.

"Joshua?" you called out, holding up a small, beautifully bound notebook. "What's this?"

He came into the room, a soft smile playing on his lips when he saw what you were holding. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd find that. It's for you – well, for us, really."

You opened the notebook, your breath catching as you realized what it was. On the first page, in Joshua's neat handwriting, were the words: "Our Story: Past, Present, and Future."

"I thought we could use it to write down our memories, our dreams for the future," Joshua explained, coming to sit beside you. "And maybe, someday, we can look back on it and see how far we've come."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you flipped through the pages. Some were already filled – recollections of your first date, the lyrics to the song Joshua had written for you, little sketches of moments you'd shared. But most of the pages were blank, waiting to be filled with the story of your life together.

"Joshua, this is..." you trailed off, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I know we've been through a lot, and there were times when I was afraid to confront the past. But now, I want to embrace all of it – the good and the bad. Because it all led us here, to this moment."

You leaned into him, feeling a profound sense of peace. "I love you," you said simply, because in that moment, those three words encompassed everything you felt.

"I love you too," Joshua replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Now, what do you say we write our first entry as official roommates?"

Laughing, you grabbed a pen and snuggled closer to Joshua. As you began to write, describing the chaos and joy of move-in day, you felt a sense of excitement for all the blank pages ahead – pages waiting to be filled with your shared story.

The coming years would bring their own challenges and triumphs. There would be late nights of studying for you and long hours in the recording studio for Joshua. There would be arguments over dirty dishes and whose turn it was to do laundry. There would be moments of doubt, of wondering if you were on the right path.

But there would also be quiet mornings spent cuddling in bed, lazy Sundays exploring your new neighborhood, and the thrill of celebrating each other's achievements. There would be the day Joshua landed his first real gig, and the night you aced your first major presentation in grad school. There would be family dinners, game nights with friends, and impromptu dance parties in your tiny living room.

Through it all, that notebook would be there, slowly filling with the story of your life together. A tangible reminder of the love you'd built, the challenges you'd overcome, and the future you were creating together.

As you closed the notebook that first night in your new apartment, you looked at Joshua and saw your whole world reflected in his eyes. You didn't know exactly what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain – whatever came your way, you'd face it together, writing your story one day at a time.

After all, your love wasn't just skin deep. It was woven into the very fabric of who you were, a bond that had been tested and strengthened by every challenge you'd faced. It was the skin you were in, the air you breathed, the truth you believed in.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped in each other's arms in your new home, you knew that this was just the beginning of your forever. A forever that you would define together, day by day, moment by moment, love by love.

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wttcsms · 11 days

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?”

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan.

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.)

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle.

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies.

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager.

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still.

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup.

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?”

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked.

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too.

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out.

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy.

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this.

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question.

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?”

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.”

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa.

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?”

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place.

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa.

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive.

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.”

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?”

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.”

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?”

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!”

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.”

“Did you need a ride?”

Shitty luck, indeed.

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically.

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.”

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi.

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him.

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle?

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him.

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road.

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is.

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi.

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt.

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…”

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise.

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you.

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.”

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though.

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door.

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

#yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #series: if you feel like falling #fluff

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yyawnjun · 8 months

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BUTTONS

seventeen!95'lines × reader (separately)

summary: according to an ancient story, the greatest way to confess to the girl you love is to give her the top button of your uniform. Knowing thus tradition, here's how I think S.coups, Jeonghan and Joshua would confess their love.

comments, like and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

high school romance ; fluff!! ; 2.6k wc ; I am so weak for them 😭 ; @kflixnet ; pt2

thank u so much to my fav girl @sobun1est for proofreading this (she deserves the world AND a confession by S.coups asap !!)

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL [ 최승철 ]

Choi Seungcheol. The school slacker. The first time you heard his name was when the science teacher begged you to help him with his finals. He needed help in all scientific subjects, such as math, physics, bio, and chemistry… but from what was said, he was considered hopeless. The first time you met him, he was wearing a pajama - because he refused to “be like the others” wearing the uniform - and kept chewing gum while listening to music while you were trying your best to help him with his math homework.

From that very first moment, you understood why everyone thought he was considered a desperate case. In the first week, he did not listen to you at all, not even glancing at you, he had arrived late and left after less than an hour.

Over time he started to look at you and listen to you. He started to admire your patience, your passion, your focused look as you wrote, your clear voice as you explained, your optimism, and your kind heart...

At the same time, you also started to become attached to him when he first showed the will to improve his situation. Indeed after a week, he bought his first pencil, after two weeks he bought a schoolbag, and after a month he even had a collector with all of the subjects - it was quite well organized at the end of the third month.

His appearance improved during those months: his eyes appeared less tired, his hair wasn't greasy anymore, and he even wore half of the uniform.

On Monday, the results of the final exams had just arrived. It was 9 a.m. - still very early, as they would not display the result posters until 11 a.m. - when your science teacher called you with Seungcheol.

You both came out of your respective classes and as soon as you arrived in front of the teacher, she almost started tearing up with happiness at the news she wanted to announce to you. S.coups, as you had learned to call him by now, had passed all his exams. These were the exact words spoken to you by the professor. She almost jumped up and hugged you, but you were more focused on the proud smile that adorned your friend's face. Indeed by now, you were friends.

After hearing the news, to celebrate you opted to go for a bite to eat at the café near the school after class. That café where you first met when it all started is now filled with your happy chatter.

Having the time to be with him for more hours on that day, you were able to notice so many other details of the new S.coups. He had a rested face, a lot of energy in his speech, brighter eyes, and even an almost complete uniform - he had promised you that he would wear it perfectly only on the last day of school. After some time, he also managed to thank you from the bottom of his heart, and you to gain more confidence in your teaching abilities.

So, the last day of school had arrived, the last goodbyes, hugs, chats, and farewells before the end. But on that very full day, you had by no means forgotten your promise.

In fact, after saying goodbye to your friends, you moved to look for the boy. Thirty minutes had now passed, but nothing. You were about to give un helieving that you had overemphasized what had been between you. You turned to leave until a deep, masculine voice came to your ears that you now knew very well from hearing him repeat all the rules possible and imaginable.

You turned and saw him in all his glory. The sun was shining on his face, and his hair styled with was barely moving in the wind. His eyes were smiling, and he was still shouting your name to indicate his location. Only when he was closer, did you notice that he was wearing his uniform.

His eyes and chest were filled with pride, his smile was proud, and his happiness was more alive than ever. After a quick hug, he pointed out his uniform to you - emphasizing how uncomfortable it was and how much he had done it for you. With dreamy eyes, you stared into his eyes, and he accepted the challenge. Time and space around you appeared still, it was only you and him. But shortly, your eye was drawn to a detail in his clothing. A button was missing from his clothing, the first one from the top, and it was clear that it had been detached.

He noticed the movement of your gaze and your puzzlement. But before you could say anything, he had put the missing button in front of your face. As if to prevent you from doubting him and his promises to you.

"I read that giving the first button of one's uniform to the loved girl is a way of confession," he told you.

"Oh, your romantic side," and before you could ask him any more questions, he shushed you for the second time - like he used to do proudly when he explained the lesson he had learned because of you.

"Here, this is for you," he said handing you the button. In the end, he kept his promise: he was in his perfect (uni)form, wearing his school uniform and demonstrating his love to you.

YOON JEONGHAN [ 윤정한 ]

Yoon Jeonghan was taller than you, his eyes were brown as hazelnut and his hair black as ebony, his skin was flawless and his smile was always feeble. Although his sneaky character did not match his angel and kind appearance. From the teacher’s point of view, he was the perfect, smart, and angelic student. To everyone, he was the popular, handsome, and cocky boy. To you, he was something more.

You two had many classes together during high school, and you managed to learn more about him. Even if you did not speak much to him, you caught another side of him. Behind his angel appearance and presumptuous acting was a gentle boy. That gentle boy that made you lose your mind for him. You noticed once how he helped a guy who was being bullied or another time when he stayed until 11 pm in the library to help a girl with her math homework.

So time passed and he quickly became your crush, someone you would always look at and admire from afar. You can’t say that he did not like attention, because he did. But he liked them only when they focused on the things he wanted - like his appearance, his carelessness, his intelligence. He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why, and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.

One-side love, mh? That was what you kept reminding yourself while observing him from afar. Many gorgeous girls and boys liked him openly, but he always ended up rejecting them; so you chose to stay silent and watch him from afar.

On one hand, it was nice to have someone to romanticize, someone to think about before bed, or when you needed to cheer up. But immediately after that comfortable feeling, a melancholy one showed up. But it's the one-sided love, isn't it?

So the years passed, you changed, and your crush on him got stronger. Until the last days before the end of high school. When you found yourself, on the last Monday in high school, on a fresh summer night - instead of studying - focusing on the choice of the words for the anonymous letter you would have given to him tomorrow.

He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why, and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.You closed it at 10 am before putting it in his lock. As soon as you did, a huge weight lifted from your consciousness, making room for another.

He had seen you secretly place something in his locker. Because after you put the letter Jeonghan saw you, YN.

Yn, the one who won his heart since his freshman year of high school. The one who had been on his mind for years, and as much as he didn't want it, the heart decided on its own. He instinctively came closer to see what it was, but you quickly moved away. After a week, you went from wanting to confess to wanting to die to hide your feelings for him.

Your week was no different from his. Until Friday, the last day of school. Your heart lightened when all the exams - and the high school years with them - were over. The day was going beautifully, and you had stopped one last time to look at your - now ex-school. The others had slowly left, it was late afternoon, and you would have to go soon too. So many memories mixed with laughter and tears, so many regrets mixed with victories and disappointments.

Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice that he reached you. You were startled when someone patted your shoulder. He had arrived in silence, and without speaking he made so much noise in your heart that it started beating wildly. You looked at him awkwardly... since the day he saw you put the love letter into his locker, you had only given each other fleeting glances.

He kept not saying a word and looked down at his uniform. The sound of the button being detached from the uniform was the first sound you had heard since his arrival. Still, in disbelief, you didn't move. He took your hand and placed the button in it.

He smiled at you, with the faint smile of him - the one that you loved so intensely - with those hazel eyes that had drawn you, he patted your head, and without saying anything he turned to leave. Was this perhaps his way of confessing… Wait, was he confessing?

Your surprised look was replaced by a huge smile, and your heart kept beating rapidly - but not anymore only for the love tension, now even for the exhaustion of running as you chased him, demanding answers, confessions, and maybe something more...

HONG JISOO [ 홍지수 ]

Everyone knew who Hong Jisoo was. Everyone called him Joshua, and he was known as one of the nicest and kindest boys at school. However, he was so kind that people easily took advantage of him. Starting with occasional help with English homework, solving math problems, and planning for free private lessons several times per week.

Initially, he was happy that he could help everyone and was flattered when girls came to him with long letters that showed to be a mix of a confession of love and thanks for the school's help.

However, the more he gave of himself to others, the less of himself left. Joshua was gradually wearing himself out. He was so focused on others that he had forgotten about himself.

He thought about this for the first time as he left for school, with music in his ears as he finished tying up his uniform. Just as he was about to do so, he realized it was missing again the top button. The one that was meant to be given to the girl he loved. Instead, someone stole it for him when he had left his uniform in class for PE class.

It was the third time that week, but he had gradually accepted it because he didn't know who was responsible. He kept reminding himself that school would be over in a week. He could bear with it, right? So he arrived at school, greeted everyone with his usual cheerful smile, and sat down. Resigned that he would be without a button for one more day.

Or so he thought. In his underbench was a rosy cloth tissue, with a brand-new button inside and a small note saying: Take care of yourself.

The gesture made him smile immensely and soothed his troubled soul. Who on earth could it have been? Who on earth could have noticed what had happened to him?

And as his curiosity increased, so did your beats as you watched him bask in the happiness of having found your gift for him. Indeed, you had long noticed how much he was a victim of others' exploitation.

And once, after you had asked him who his love was - referring to the missing button - he had told you that someone had even taken the button off his uniform.

Since then you began to feel closer to that boy, who appeared perfect and cheerful from a distance. And you had decided to help him secretly and from a distance. And you realized that was great; seeing him happy after finding the button had already brightened your day.

The day had gone by swiftly, and you had exchanged a few words with him as usual. He had been gentle as always and proudly wore the button given to him.

The daily hour of PE arrived, and for the fourth time, his button was stolen.

This time it hurt him a bit more because it was a gift; you could see a blank expression on his face, a dull grin, and a suppressed anger with clenched teeth. That day he returned home earlier than everyone.

But the next day - the last day of school - you put for the second time a button on a pink tissue for him. “I am on your side; take care of yourself!” That was the new note you'd left on his desk.

As soon as he saw it, he hurried back to the school tailor's class and sewed it tightly to his uniform with a needle and thread.

Because it was the last day of school, you were both happy with the end of the tests, and your day went well until the last hour. You did not do PE, so you stayed in class and napped on your desk.

You did it to rest but also tried to catch the button thief in the act. It had been a few minutes since you heard the classroom door open and saw who had come. You quickly took a picture, scaring the thief away, but the robbery had already happened, and the button was missing again. Anger welled up in your veins after Joshua's button was stolen for the umpteenth time.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the first button on your uniform, and with the sewing kit you always carried with you, you put it on his uniform.

Just in time for when your classmates returned to class.

You knew it was a button from the girl's uniform, but you hoped that he would not pay too much attention to it. And so it seemed, for he had said nothing and had only put his uniform back on.

So high school had ended, and you were heading home free of stress and negative feelings. When you heard someone call out your name.

You stopped and turned around; it was Joshua. He was running toward you waving his hand. "There's something I want to give you." He told you as he caught his breath after catching up with you.

"I think you know the legend of the button given to the loved one - and you nodded as your heart rate grew, was this what you thought was going on? - Here. Here it is the button as an act of my love and gratitude for your kindness, which quietly brightened my day."

With that said, he approached your face and very carefully began stitching up the missing button on your uniform with one of his own.

On a pleasant summer day, you two confessed your love with a button exchange, hand in hand, and excitement in your heart.

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inkspiredwriting · 2 months

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Moving Day Madness

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves and his wife, Y/N, were finally moving into their own house—a cozy two-story home with a charming garden. It was a new chapter in their lives, and they couldn't wait to start it. Naturally, Five’s siblings insisted on helping with the move, promising it would be a smooth and efficient process.

It was anything but.

The day started off with a series of minor disasters. Diego, ever the overachiever, decided to start unloading the moving truck himself. In his enthusiasm, he misjudged the weight of a box labeled "Kitchen Fragile" and dropped it. The sound of shattering glass was the first omen of the chaos to come.

"Diego!" Five shouted, running over. "That was our wedding china!"

Diego winced. "Sorry, Five. I’ll replace it, I swear."

Meanwhile, Klaus had decided that the best way to help was to "organize" the boxes. This meant he moved them randomly from one spot to another, making it impossible to find anything. Luther, trying to keep the peace, ended up in a shouting match with Klaus about the proper way to stack boxes.

Ben and Viktor were handling the smaller items but got distracted by an impromptu jam session with an old guitar they found in one of the boxes. Their music was great, but it wasn’t helping the move go any faster.

Y/N, trying to stay calm, directed traffic as best as she could. "Luther, please don’t stack boxes higher than Diego’s head. Klaus, stop moving things around. Diego, maybe you can help with the furniture instead."

As the morning wore on, things didn’t improve. The couch got wedged in the front door, with Diego and Luther arguing about the best angle to maneuver it through. Klaus spilled a carton of milk all over the living room carpet while trying to make coffee, and Viktor accidentally knocked over a bookshelf, scattering books everywhere.

"Why is this so complicated?" Five muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Welcome to life with the Hargreeves," Y/N said with a laugh, handing him a cup of coffee. "Just breathe. We’ll get there."

By midday, they managed to get most of the furniture inside, albeit not in the right rooms. The dining table ended up in the living room, and the bedroom dresser was in the hallway. Despite the chaos, there were moments of laughter. Klaus told ridiculous stories that had everyone in stitches, and Ben and Viktor's music provided an unexpected soundtrack to the day.

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves siblings took a break, collapsing onto various pieces of mismatched furniture in the living room.

"I think that’s everything," Luther said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"More or less," Five replied, looking around at the disarray. "Thanks for your help, everyone."

"Anytime, bro," Diego said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Now, who wants pizza?" Y/N asked, pulling out her phone.

As they waited for the pizza to arrive, the siblings gradually began to help put things in their proper places. By the time dinner was over, the house was still a mess, but it felt more like home.

Later that night, after everyone had left, Five and Y/N stood in the living room, surveying the chaos.

"Well, it’s a start," Five said with a chuckle.

Y/N smiled, wrapping her arms around him. "We’ll get it sorted. And we’ll have fun doing it."

Five kissed her forehead. "I love you, Y/N. Even if our life is a bit… unconventional."

"I love you too, Five. And I love our life."

As they settled into their new home, surrounded by boxes and memories yet to be made, Five and Jen knew they could do anything —with a little help from their wonderfully chaotic family.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot

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sgiandubh · 2 months

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News from Birmingham, part 3: verbatim

Verbatim means 'word for word' in Latin and it is often used in French to convey the idea something is being reported exactly as it actually happened.

Absolutely not sorry for the length, nor for the lost night spent on it.

So, here go the juiciest parts using the recording I am (for those joining in later) NOT allowed to post as is. Selection is mine and mine solely - editorial line and all the rest. Once I am done, I shall add my comments. It was hard for the girls to focus on what was being said on stage and write to me in DMs, at the same time. Recording everything was a risk, but also genius. The bits I am going to post are taken exactly as I heard them:

✔️on Blonde Bambino (yes, she elaborated and I had no idea when reporting live by proxy): '(...) and it's just amazing, he's the sweetest, sweetest thing and he looooves music. And, I feel like I succeeded being a mother purely because the other day he asked me if he could invite Kate Bush to his birthday'.

✔️on borrowed things from set: she regrets not having taken some things she liked from previous seasons. 'It's been a long time since I've borrowed anything (...). Terry gave me two nightgowns made in Season 1, she gave me one that was never used. And then she promised me a lot of things (...).' Wanted to 'borrow' something from her own surgery.

✔️on her involvement with the Blankfaces fashion label-cum- homeless charity in GLA: 'oh, that is Gerry who runs that, he is a friend of my husband's and he is just this amazing person who does grassroots organizing, you know, Blankfaces he's been doing for a long time. And I just met Gerry, you know, socially, and then I thought what he was doing was amazing, and I also found the clothes amazing and so I just bought them.' Further explains what Blankfaces does, the shop, the stories, including the food kitchen, but denies a more active involvement with the project/brand. 'I was just the other day at Hozier (...),he is amazing [cooing, booing] and I'm just paraphrasing from Andrew, and Andrew said this amazing thing, which was how we all want to be part of big things, right, you know to be a part of those things that would change the world, and all of that, but it's actually the small little things you do every single day, in your community, that have the biggest impact. (...) But you can buy their stuff online.'

✔️on producing a future movie based on Book Ten: 'I would not be in those competitions with Starz.'

✔️on her resemblance with Claire (oh dear God, not that question again!): 'As a kid, I was definitely not obedient, definitely not quiet and definitely not tidy, but as an adult, I ended up being more organized than I've ever thought I would be in my life (...) shocking (...). The world has changed crazy, (...) I used to talk to people and have opinions on things, but now it feels like a cesspool (...). I miss that space for conversation.'

✔️on 'Erself and the end of Outlander: 'well Diana came to visit, I actually don't know when it was, not that long ago, she came on set, sheeee... ugh, you'd have to forgive me, it was last season, it was so long ago, I can't remember what is what and I have to remember if she wrote something last season (...). Diana, she's created this world (...), she watches everything (...). But she's also allowed us to sort of make her characters our own and she's given us her blessing to do that, which has been amazing. And she still won't tell us the ending. [Voice in public: Sam knows!] Sammy... Sam THINKS he knows.'

✔️on the public impact of OL's Season 1 and sudden fame: 'I got this job so last minute, I was living in the US and I knew it was a US series that we're gonna be filming in the UK. And I read the first book so I was like, OMG sounds like an amazing show to film. But then I went from being cast to being in Scotland in one week. And then you're just like, you're working for 85, 90 hours a week. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what was going on. (...) and we went to Comic Con (...), I mean that whole year was a blur, an amazing blur, but a blur.' Had no expectations about what the show would become, it's now broadcast in 87 countries, 'it's insane, it's amazing'. Being able to be successful after 10 years is 'amazing'.

✔️on what she will miss most about Scotland or is she planning to stay in Scotland after OL is over: 'that's the million dollars question, I don't know. I mean, I think I'll... my husband is Scottish, so I think we'll always have something there, his parents both live there, so you know, we're not never going to be there at some point, but I don't know what is gonna happen after, but I am very, I feel, yeah, I feel like it's gonna be so sad not to... you know for 11 years, no matter like if we're gonna back in the United States or to London for a while we've always known we'd be back to Scotland at some point and be there for 10 or 11 months and so now I don't know, I don't know what the future holds, so....'

✔️on her and Tony sharing the same musical tastes: ' do Sam and I share the same music [Steve immediately BARKS: 'no, Tony, your real husband!'] Tony? Yes. Sam - no.'

✔️Sam's whisky or Graham's bourbon? 'Sam's whisky. I haven't tasted the bourbon, but bourbon is too sweet'.

✔️speaking about Steve - 'he's so mean'. In jest (?).

✔️her favorite part of making her own gin: 'tasting (...), trusting your senses'. The distillery changed, from the first to the second batch - the product's taste changed, a learning curve. They wanted to make sure it's still the same product.

✔️on regretting she did not start acting ten years earlier - mentioned not being ready for the responsibility of shooting 14, 16 hours a day, no sick days, etc: 'it's like a beast'. She felt OL came at the right time, was 'prepared and ready to be there' and eager to be given 'a shot (...): whatever you throw at me, I'll do it'. 'And I think for Sam was the same.'

✔️on memorable OL sets/places: Craigh Na Dun stones. 'The new place where we are, really cool. (....) Amazing stately homes like Hopetoun'. It's 'amazing.'

✔️on another parts in movies - she looks forward for 'good writing' and 'the character to speak' to her, in a new project, the people she will work with... Cliche AF. The Cut and The Amateur roles are 'not huge', the last she clearly said it was a small role, 'it's not my film, it's someone else's film'. She 'did not want to be working all the time, obviously with a small child'. Defined The Cut's plot as 'bizarre', and The Amateur as 'funny'. Loves her job, is happy with it.

✔️last question was asked by a French woman with a very thick accent, about traveling and learning things out of it - C. considers herself very lucky to have been able to travel all around the world as a model. Traveling taught her empathy, how to get over our very Christian centric view of the world. Mentions growing up in 'a very small village in Ireland, that was pretty much, you know, one church, one tiny school and one shop'. Her parents 'instilled a love of reading and learning'. Then she left Ireland to live in France and Japan, and traveled to Nepal. Nepal :'the trip that changed me and changed my life, because I was like seeing a completely different culture that had no correlation to anything that I grew up with, but it was the most beautiful spiritual awakening I guess I've ever had. (...) By traveling and by eating different foods and trying to speak other languages, which I try to do and I apologize to everybody because I try and speak your language, too, because I think (...) it's important to try and connect, because we expect people to come here and do that and it's so rude we don't go and do the same [ applause].' Being able to travel allows us to see how different and how similar we are'.

Ended with a huge thank you to fans, it's been so long that I wasn't attending a convention, 'but it meant the world to me to meet you all again, seen so many familiar faces, it feels so weird to be at the end of this show, because it has meant so much to me (...). Will see you all again soon.'

***

And now, for my comments and findings. Almost point by point:

Kate Bush, LOL (we'll never agree, C and I, on this one; but I can almost imagine Blonde Bambino cooing this - awww):

youtube

So, she basically repeated the same anecdote as last year, during promo. From Sade to Kate Bush, and hey, what about that birthday - 'the other day'? But let's not be nitpicky.

'Gerry' actually is Gerard McKenzie Govan, one of the three Directors and the founder of The Blankfaces CIC, a Community Interest Company (regular company with an increased social responsibility twist and, as such, heavily subsidized by the local authorities, too). More on him, here, for those who really want to know about him: https://www.glasgowwestendtoday.scot/magazine/the-man-behind-the-blankfaces-1391/. But that is not the most juicy part, actually - some blatant inconsistencies are. Like 'Gerry' being a friend of Nameless Husband's, but still she met him socially (huh? I thought he was a friend of Nameless Husband, hence a family acquaintance?). Also, C doesn't know shite about The Blankfaces, but still bravely fills in those blanks, like when she tells us fans Gerry has been doing Blankfaces 'for a long time'. The UK competent public authority, Companies House, says something very different and I can prove that the CIC was registered in 2018. Which is not really a long time at all:

'March 6, 2018 - Incorporation of a Community Interest Company' - see above. It also doesn't seem to be very well managed, at all:

Both its yearly accounts and its confirmation statement are long overdue (since 2023, in fact). The CIC is, actually, subject of an 'active proposal to strike off', which means it will be closed/dissolved, and rather sooner than later:

In their case, I suspect a compulsory strike-off, issued by the Companies House register. Fits with the legal criteria:

In a nutshell: because The Blankfaces failed to file its annual accounts and confirmation statement AND because it did not answer to the Companies House's two kind reminder letters, it will be forcibly dissolved in less than two months from now and there is NO going back on that decision, according to UK law.

Wouldn't C know about her Nameless Husband's Friend huge problems? I mean, how more tone-deaf and disconnected can you be, promoting a clinically dead business and inviting people to buy their clothes from their online shop?

Unless... Yeah, unless - but oooh, stupid shippers, slap a shipper, etc.

[Source: Moore and Stoke, an insolvency practitioners' firm based in Stoke-on Trent, UK - simply because they had the simplest and most recent legal explanation, see here: https://www.moorestoke.co.uk/active-proposal-to-strike-off/].

Compared to that, the fact that Tracula was nowhere to be seen at the recent Andrew Hozier-Byrne's concert in GLA is really peanuts. This is serious, legal stuff and please don't give me the 'she's an artist, she doesn't know shit about business' lame excuse. She is also a businesswoman, with her own spirits brand and several other companies, at least in the UK, Ireland and the US. Give me a break, #IYKYK.

Can't wait to be done with OL. Even the thought of a future movie based on Book Ten makes her cringe. Felt it in her voice and it was enough.

World feels like a cesspool? Why on Earth? She is a beautiful, successful and accomplished woman, with her own family and free from want. A cesspool is a very strong and strange word, in this apparent context. Unless.. but yeah, stupid shipper, slap a shipper. Missing conversations, expressing her opinion.... Not even LOL. It made me feel sad. Everything that happened to them since 2016 must be such a burden.

Sammy. SAMMY? Whoa, girl! Merci beaucoup, vraiment. Term of endearment, anyone? Compare with the stiff dead 'my husband' - again, the difference between a teddy bear and a guillotine is transparent in her voice. Also, DG - a difficult topic for her. She doesn't like 'Erself much and I think we all know why.

You tell me about 87 countries, Ma'am. I experience it every day, from the sidelines, so I can easily imagine what the impact could be for you. OL, that blessing and that curse. Also, when she is fed up with prodding and unwilling to kiss arses, she'd quip something along the lines of 'amazing' and be done with it.

Bonnie Scotland and the Day After. Another great moment of 'what the hell ever, just say anything'. Also, Caitriona Mary is a terrible, terrible liar - just like Sam Roland, you know. Her answer came out as incoherent and borderline illogical. Look at this: ' I mean, I think I'll… my husband is Scottish' - the 'I'll' part was her spontaneous starting to answer, about herself, but then inhibition kicked in and shit, she remembered she is married and had to somehow insert Tracula and both his parents (alive, just to make sure). Also, excuse me, hellooo: 'I think we'll always have something there'. Sounds like a flat, more like a pied-à-terre, but lo and behold, she suggests life is going to be elsewhere. What about that pharaonic McMansion, we so passionately followed the painstaking refurbishment of, double glazing included and borderline scandalizing the local heritage protection NGOs in the process? That doesn't really sound like 'something there', does it? That Bear Grylls flat looked more like 'something there', so where's the catch-22, here? What if I was right about McMansion being a fixer-upper she never planned to live in (where, oh where does The Happy Couple live? ooooh, ROFLMAO)? What if I was right about some other thoughts I am not ready to discuss yet? Questions, questions. And yes, London. IYKYK and very different from the emotional, savant blur. Also, for a very organized grown-up woman (her own words, see above), not knowing what the future holds... I mean I get it, but how peculiar, isn't it? Drawing a line, that question unsettled her. She was not planning to answer. She ended with a joke on not being able to see 'that yellow thing in the sky for five months in a row'. Get me out of this question and quick.

The music tastes' question was very clearly audible, even from the back of the room and I had zero trouble to distinctly hear it - it was also asked in a posh & polite British accent, so that helped a LOT: ' do you and Tony share the same music tastes?' The Freudian slip is simply inexplicable. Also, she answered Tony, not 'my husband' : Tony+ my husband in the same phrase is something beyond her strength. But why answer about S at all, that was NOT the question? Why? There are limits to dumbfuckery, after all. Also, Steve is such a pain in the arse. Who, in your mind and heart, is the real husband, C?

Whisky vs. Bourbon, she mumbled her answer, very uneasy, had to listen three times to untangle it. The Soup Nazi had to step in and bark the answer, train station megaphone style, for everyone to hear and get the memo. Now I understand why. And you should, too.

'He's so mean'. Definitely not in jest. Steve, that is. Fire that dick. Plus, later on, she quipped to him: 'you have the reputation of being like a strict schoolmaster'. Answer: 'maybe I am'. A cara nem treme, like they say in Brazil.

In that gin question, the Stan dutifully mentioned Tony (arse kissers, ALL OF THEM) - she could have mentioned him openly, she had a boulevard in front of her. But nope, she came back to mainly mentioning her own experience and a very vague 'we'.

'And I think Sam was the same' - conversations were had early on. In Central Park, London. And then things went very fast, as it sometimes happens. Sharing takes things on a very different level. I think this is exactly what happened to them.

Memorable places: they both are very moved by Craigh Na Dun, and it's absolutely normal. And Hopetoun - LOL, hello, of course ('The Door Faces North', pun totally intended).

Next two movies: so long for her Stans' delusions she was given a main role. She wrapped deception with grace and hid behind being a mom. ALL THE ANTI BLOGS WERE EERILY SILENT ABOUT THIS. I wonder why. Actually no, I don't. But sure, shippers twist things, shippers hide things. No shame, those people.

The last question, on travel, was my favorite one. I think it was perhaps the only time she felt able to fully express what she meant and wanted to. Many will jump on that Nepal reference and it is correct, but to me, on a very personal level, it spoke in many, many other ways. This is the C I have managed to embrace, reluctantly at first (I admit) and like a LOT. This is the witty girl I thought I have lost forever in that sea of painful innuendos, stupid Stans ass-kissing and blurring everything in the process, plus a Nazi minder on top. Fire that dick. Seriously. He wanted to end on a 'funny' Kumbaya note - she subtly managed to break free. Thank you, C. Seriously. The wonder you are and completely unaware of it. And the things you can do with words, if only you'd dare play with them some more.

Her tone at the end was emotional. Very. It was the same tone as for that 'partner everyday' gala speech. Oh, the things she wanted to tell all of us. And if we only knew. But hey, she promised we will meet again, soon. Perhaps in Paris? I'll gladly speak to you. In French.

youtube

A HUGE thank you. Both of you. I love you, girls.

#fandom #shitshow #Starfury Highlanders 7 2024 #verbatim #Youtube

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shipmansflannels · 4 months

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welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

oh, hi! well, sorry for promising I was going to post something yesterday but ending up not doing it. I was trying to take some time out of the computer and trying to organize my creativity. so, this is what I could manage to post after a day off. hope it's fine. enjoy! sorry if it's too short, it was actually based on a youtube video I saw a long time ago and I couldn't remember all the details in it. hope you enjoyed it anyway. thanks for all the support, and the rebloggs, and the likes, and the following!

enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

------------------------------------------

welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

-> prompt: after an embarrassing situation at the mall, jackie has a jealous crisis. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, jealous!jackie, jackie being a girlfaillure, 1996 timeline, mentions of randy walsh, plot twist.

***

She had spent the entire trip back in silence.

It had become an awkward silence in the car and you couldn't help but look at her and make sure everything was okay in the passenger seat, but Jackie hadn't said a word since you left the mall and she hadn't said anything when you were driving home either.

Her parents were on a business trip, and as two teenage girlfriends who did everything in secret, you were taking advantage of those days to be together. But suddenly, everything had become a confusing mess.

Opening and closing the car door with force, Jackie grabbed the bags of clothes that were hers and set off into the house in a hurry, before you could even park the car properly in the Taylor's huge garage.

Picking up your purchases and following her into the house, you threw them on the couch and promised that you would organize it after finding out what was wrong. As you imagined, Jackie had locked herself in her room and was probably listening to loud music on that damn Walkman you had given her for her last birthday.

In fact, if you had known that it would be the cause of all your ruin, you would have thought twice when you saw him in the store window begging to be taken home.

Knocking on the door three times just to be sure, you kept your voice low, hoping she would hear you anyway, over the loud music.

"Jax, can we just talk for a minute?"

There was no response. And instead of insisting, you just pulled the handle, not at all impressed that the door wasn't locked.

"Jackie, I'm serious. What did I do? Could you please talk to me for a second and sort things out?"

She looked at you, clearly listening to you, and with a sigh, she took the Walkman from her ears and threw it back hard, those huge eyes staring into your face. Like a stubborn child, she crossed her arms and sighed again.

“I think I should be the one asking that question,” she whispered, her voice a little firmer than you were usually expecting. Generally, while you had a calmer and more relaxed posture, Jackie was always excited, always outgoing, always talking loudly, as if she was always filled with sugar all over her body.

You frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What did I do wrong, (Y\N)? What did I do wrong for you to leave me so easily, and right in front of my face, for Randy Walsh? What's different about him?”

Once again, you frowned, looking at her. "Jax, I don't get it. What the hell are you talking about?"

She huffed, returned to her normal expression and, with a roll of her eyes, leaned against the headboard. That was the signal she used for you to start a cuddle session on ordinary days, but now, you didn't know if you should join her.

So you just sat on the edge of the bed, still with your eyes fixed on her. "Is there something wrong? You can tell me, I promise I won't explode. You know I hate it when we fight, Jackie."

"You. Randy Walsh. At the video game store. Small talk. That pissed me off."

She explained, in pauses, now avoiding looking at you. Relaxing your expression, you gave an incredulous smile, but waited for her to continue, just to prove your point, and not to interrupt her in the middle of her justification.

"And what's worse, you left me waiting for hours in front of that stupid ice cream shop with my stupid raspberry cone in my hand, with my stupid shopping bags in my hand. Not hours, but…", she counted on her fingers, like if she was trying to remember. "... fifteen minutes, approximately."

You laughed again, scratching the back of your head. And she continued rambling.

"And you two were giggling, and you looked like a fool in love. I wouldn't care if it was a girl or a nice guy, I swear, but Randy Walsh! It's unacceptable, (Y\N)! How many times have you bumped into each other? through the school hallways? Once? Half a minute?”

You looked at her. "Look, love, listen… You got it all wrong."

"And I know I'm freaking out like it's a nightmare, like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life - and it really is, but whatever -. It's just… what would you expect me to do? I swear, it made me want to take your car, go home and leave you there alone, just to welcome you with a fucking sign stuck in the living room saying "welcome home, cheater"… But of course I didn't do that, I'm freaking out like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life, (Y\N), do you happen to realize what you fucking did? Randy Walsh, really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

You laughed again. "Jackie, please let me explain."

"Ah, now you want to explain? Well, go ahead. Explain yourself."

You sighed, looking at her and thinking exactly how you were going to put each thing into words, regretting it soon after, but knowing that you should move on. Looking straight into her eyes, you decided to start slowly, as you should.

"Do you remember the last day we went shopping? The day we spent at the new game store that opened on floor three and you saw that Nintendo 64 and your eyes lit up? So…", you bit your lip, nervously. "That day when you saw me talking to Randy for the first time, after coming back from practice, I was just trying to see if I could buy one cheaper, since he works at the game store in the other mall and I didn't have money specifically for the Nintendo from that store… And he promised me that he would try to ask his boss for an order, and that he would give me answers later…"

She widened her eyes, following you speaking as if it were the most important thing in the world, and from her reactions, you realized that you had made a mistake, and you realized that she also knew that she had made a mistake in judging you so early.

"Today, we were just passing by the aisle at Randy's game store, so I thought I would try to see if he had gotten the Nintendo yet… He told me yes, that it was on order and should arrive in a few days. And that made me extremely happy, Jackie, because… because it was my gift to you and because it was… well, it was your surprise birthday present."

With another bite on your lip, you laughed softly as you avoided looking at your girlfriend, who had her eyes even wider and her mouth open.

"That-? What-? How-? Oh, my God, babe… I…"

You nodded, laughing again.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I got it wrong and screwed up-"

"No, it's okay, I also overreacted, I should have told you… not told you, but at least given signs."

Jackie pouted regretfully and opened her arms. You fit into them well and breathed in her strawberry scent while ruffling those still wet hair. She whimpered a few times and hid her face in your neck, embarrassed. Her cheeks were too red, almost rosy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise," she whispered. "It's just that seeing you and Randy together, I thought-"

"It's okay, Jax, I said it's okay. It was half my fault anyway…"

You shrugged and lifted her face to kiss her slowly. It started with a peck and then turned into a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer. When you pulled away from her, you whispered, touching the white blouse with butterflies sewn on the chest, looking down.

"Listen, I told you that I want to be clear about my feelings, and that I want to make us work, so… if I were cheating on you, which obviously I'm not, I would probably tell you. There's no reason I hide this from you, Jackie. Not even out of shame." You touched her lips with your fingers. "I love you. I wouldn't trade you for anything in this world. I swear to all that is sacred. You are the most incredible girl I have ever met and you are the woman of my life, I have never been so sure of that as I am now. "

She sighed and smiled, making another pout that you couldn't resist kissing, laughing softly and taking a moment to pull away from her.

"Besides, Randy Walsh isn't my type, and I'm not his type either…", you laughed again. "And when I say that, I mean it literally…"

Jackie frowned, her clear eyes emanating curiosity. "What you mean?"

“Jackie…” you shrugged, scratching your forehead. "He is gay."

#yellowjackets #lgbt #yellowjackets x reader #romance #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #ella purnell x reader #jackie being a girlfaillure is such a loving thing to me #why this could be a thing she would do in the cannon?#honestly i want to write more jackie rn #send help

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multifandomwhore-003 · 10 months

Text

Forever —Drabble

Pairing: Lando Norris x female! reader

Summary: First time watching your boyfriend crash during a race? Rough.

Genre: angst, fluff.

Waring(s): Mentions of the Las Vegas crash.

Taglist: @ join taglist here

A/N: This is by far the most poetic work I've ever put out (I think), that being said. WHATEVER TF THIS IS, BLAME ON HIM, THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

Gif credits to whom it belongs

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Even through ringing ears and a dazy view, he could clearly hear you, wondering then how it was even possible, he heard beyond the arguments and strong footsteps; the flare of your nose, the shakiness in your breath, the hamering in your heart, he swore he could feel it. And with that in mind, he sighed in relived, he could feel something after all, the last thing he remembered, the last thing he perceived was dread, flashing through the last few hours of his life, could those be his last?

Shaking, on the verge of tears all he could do beyond gathering the last remnants of strength in him, was think of his family, you right beside his parents, you.

Minutes passed before he realized he blinked forcefully, perhaps one of these times he'd actually lose consciousness, or worse, be gone for good. His usual dramatics and the painkillers were dancing around his brain, making it their playground. Against all of this, he tried to organize the sound with letters, letters into words, and words into speech. Speech, Could he speak right now?

He prepared himself for the task by trying to stand on his elbows.

"Mr. Norris, please lie down," the nurse guided his head back into the pillow.

"My girlfriend," his throat was hoarse strangely enough.

"She's right outside," the nurse's undertone confirmed his bare train of thought.

"I have to see her," he grabbed the woman's arm, he was pleading.

She whispered something under her breath, clearly giving in to the situation, "I'll let her in," she grinned.

He could recognize something now, your stance, firm in shape, trembling with every motion, you stepped in asking, no, demanding the nurse to close the door behind her, avoiding her gaze in plain coldness. You said nothing for the first few seconds, breathing deeply.

"I'm okay," he let out.

"I know, they've already explained everything to me," you covered your mouth.

His fingers reached for yours, longed for them, interlacing with one another, perfectly, like every time before tonight.

He took some awareness of his surroundings, as much as he could without pushing to the edge, how horrible of a might he had over his head, effective, but far too harsh, far too overwhelming.

"We're going home in a couple of hours, they just wanna make sure, you're going to be fine," you knew you were failing at reassuring him, he didn't need it, but you did.

"I gathered that, otherwise you would still be outside yelling at everyone you could,"

You chuckled, not proud of your actions, but finding them rather hysterical at the moment, "I'm sorry you had to hear that,"

"It was music to my ears," he joked.

"Having my screams flood this place?"

"Having you care so much about me,"

"Always," was all you could answer biting down a sniffle.

It was not so long ago when you quietly promised yourself to give him your heart, the one thing you'd never thought you'd offer, let alone to the guy the Russells so kindly invited to a tennis event, to the guy who over a few drinks and laughs without a sense of shame in the world asked you to dance messily, making of those videos something for the internet to cut and explore. He was so much more than that now, and even to put it into those words was the understatement of a lifetime.

He could say the same thing about his side of the story, to explore a rather rushed friendship before diving, completely submerging, was something he'd labeled as a blessing. To fill his hours by your side in talking, and talking until you had everything to learn from one another laid out and displayed in string lights. Neither of you looked for this, flowing like every bottle of champagne you saw him pop, like every shot of Tequila you drank during Mario-kart nights, like every tear of Rosé you spilled all over your couch in the middle of the night.

And to think that both the most infamous people of their career found in themselves something far more valuable than money, fame, even transcending. Comprehending during the first years of your adulthood what it all meant to allow yourself to be completely consumed with love. So unexpectedly both your reputation and his infinite rumors could all be proven wrong. Through the worst of the trials and tribulations of being committed, you still survived.

His head rested in all the calmness you made by moving heaven and earth to have, in the crook of your neck, never letting go of the sensation of his breath, his life. How funny was it to trust someone enough to keep you alive, physically, mentally emotionally; how funny that none of them could think of how to prove something as mysterious as love to be true, in themselves, in one another, in other people past the centuries, yet they believed in, that's what they invested their faith in.

Admitting you were never fools, but only to each other, you could almost touch each other's soul, finding it far more familiar than your own.

"I'm okay," he'd been repeating the same words like a prayer since the night before.

"I know," you gulped, letting go of a choked exhale.

He read you, "Trust me?"

"Forever," you reminded your thoughts, clearing them out with just one.

—If you can't trust yourself, trust him, forever—

"I'm okay," he tested the words against your sleepless frame.

"I belive you," you finally admitted in peace before giving you lips to his.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #formula 1 #f1

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sweetkpopmusings · 2 months

Text

felix coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i've got headspace focus music playing and i'm in my stray kids feels today so here is another coworker headcanons post !! this one realllllyyyy catapulted me into felix feelings, so i hope it brings you comfort and serotonin as well <333 pics not mine !!

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! some mentions of food | pairing: coworker!felix x gn!reader | requests: open

oh sweet felix!!

you’ll never forget his first day–the receptionist was walking him through the workspace, introducing him to everyone, and explaining their roles. felix, a genuine ray of sunshine on that gloomy monday morning, smiled and waved at everybody with pure enthusiasm :’-)

when the receptionist introduced you, felix pointed at the mug on your desk and commented on how cute he thought it was ! you could practically hear the exclamation points in his voice when he spoke :,-)

later in the day, you noticed he was struggling with the coffee machine how rude of the coffee machine

you offered to help–though admittedly, you didn’t know much about it either–and he was so so grateful someone was being this kind to him

like he actually was so touched he ended up telling his friends about it that night :,-(

but anyways back to you and felix vs. the coffee machine

eventually you did get it working…you just pressed different buttons a ridiculous number of times until felix’s hot chocolate came out properly

once his mug was full, felix cheered and high-fived you, promising to pay you back one day for your service

you assured him that he doesn’t owe you anything and that you’re happy he isn’t defeated by the coffee machine on his first day

that led you two into a conversation about what it’s like to work here, the do’s and don’t’s of the office, the cool people, tips and tricks for boring meetings, and so on

felix looks up to you so much after this interaction :,,,,-)

he calls you his mentor <333

it doesn’t matter that you work in completely different departments–even the person who is supposed to be mentoring felix refers to you as his mentor lmao

at the end of his probation period, felix bakes brownies for you because he swears he wouldn’t have survived this long without you to keep him company <33333333

you two share the brownies during your lunch break while watching silly little videos

it’s so cute that everyone is jealous but they wouldn’t dare interrupt because they know for a FACT that you’re felix’s favorite

aside from being your personal baker, felix loves to play little pranks on you in the office

they’re super harmless–i’m talking pranks like leaving stickers in random places around your workspace, so you can transfer them to your laptop or water bottle whenever you find them–but he is THRILLED every time you get a surprised look on your face as a result of his antics

there’s no doubt in your mind that felix was behind it, so you look over to where he’s sitting and he’s just staring at you like >:^)

while he’s too far away for you to hear him, you know that he’s doing his classic little heh heh and plotting his next attack :,-)

felix also has cute polaroids at his desk !!

you get him one as a gift :,-) and he cherishes it so much !!!!

it’s displayed at the center of all his polaroids and he even wrote “from y/n <3” on the bottom of it so everyone knew it was his most special one :-(

he encourages you to decorate your desk because he thinks it's important to have things that make you smile while you're working !! and he's so right for that

if you don’t know where to start, felix will dedicate an afternoon to making a mood board for inspiration

he loves nothing more than shopping online with you for the perfect items

felix gets so invested that he helps you to organize everything and workshops all possible setups before you both decide on the best one though honestly he’s more concerned about it being the optimal arrangement than you are lol

after your new desk decorations are complete, felix proudly takes a picture of you at your redesigned workstation

when you make that your profile pic for your work chatting platform, felix just about faints from happiness

he’s practically twirling his hair, giggling, and kicking his feet when he messages you “nice profile pic!!” :,,,,,-) <3333

felix, though known as being happy-go-lucky, is far more in-tune with your emotions than you realize

if you come in sleep-deprived, felix is the first one to ask you if you would like coffee/tea/a pick-me-up

when you’re feeling stressed due to an upcoming deadline or having a pile of work upon your return from vacation, felix stays late with you to prioritize all your tasks so you have a clear game plan

he’s also always, always, always reminding you to take breaks !!

it’s a mini tradition for you two to do desk stretches together :-( like you just look at each other from across the workspace and do the same stretches while making funny faces at each other and holding back all your giggles :-((((

activities and conversations with felix become so embedded in your daily routine that you can’t imagine how you got through the workday before he started here

one quiet afternoon when you two are hanging out in the breakroom, you ask him why he takes such good care of you

without missing a beat, felix smiles and answers, “i promised you i’d pay you back for helping me out with the coffee machine on my first day, didn’t i?”

all you can manage to do is smile and i’d be tearing up if i were you because, just by stepping into the breakroom and offering a hand, you met the brightest, sweetest, most loving man on the planet

little do you know, felix also can’t believe his luck in meeting someone as caring, reliable, and wonderful as you <333

this is why, sitting in the breakroom where your friendship began, he pinky promises to stay by your side through coffee machine problems, stressful workdays, and whatever else life has in store for you :,-))))

oh i love felix so much i'm inconsolable my sweet baby angel </33

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alexetbishop · 6 months

Text

WISHING IT WAS ME

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

You see Kate kiss a boy. This will lead to confess your feelings for eachother.

Word count: 1.9K

————————————————————————

"Oh, come on," your hands fumbled with your tie, trying to get it right around your neck. "Stupid fucking tie." You mumble under your breath as your most expensive shoes were squeaking on the shiny floor of the lobby of a 5 star hotel.

Kate has invited you to one of the famous Bishop parties her mother organized. Well, she didn't actually invite you, she begged you to come, and you could never say no to those puppy blue eyes.

You didn't belong at all in these kinds of events, in the middle of spoiled rich people who only care about themselves and their million dollar cars.

Kate was an exception. When you met her two years ago, on the first day of college, you wouldn't have thought in a million years that she was one of those people.

She was hands down the kindest and most thoughtful person you've ever met. Even though sometimes she did act bratty and stubborn, thinking that she could do anything in the whole entire world, you still cared about her and wouldn't stop being her friend. If anything you wanted to be more than that.

You straighten your suit and take a big breath before opening the glass door that was separating you from the fake laughter and expensive champagne.

You looked around, searching for Kate. You immediately spot a black ponytail between a couple of people. You walked towards her, also recognising the long dark green dress she was wearing, having seen her try it a couple of days prior to the party. It seemed like she was talking to someone.

You quickened your pace. "Hey." You said before walking to her side.

Right there your heart shattered in million pieces.

She wasn't talking to someone. She was kissing someone.

The guy had his hand on her waist, pushing forward with his head as he just kept kissing her.

Kate stepped back from him when she heard your voice. She looked at you and the at the guy. "Y/N." She seemed surprised. "Hey, you came."

You're speechless. The sounds of all the chatter, the clinking glasses and the silky piano music fade away, a range of emotions going through your body, jealousy and hurt overpowering all the others.

"I promise you this is not what it looks like." She stepped towards you, reaching out an arm but you avoid it.

"What do you mean, babe?" The guy asked confused. "This is exactly what it looks like."

"Not now Henry." Kate snaps at him and looks back at you.

You look down, feeling the need to cry. "I- I'm sorry I have to go." You turn around and start to walk as fast as you can towards the exit.

You hear Kate shouting after you but you don't stop. Once you're in the lobby you start to run, trying to loosen the tie to not let the choking feeling bubbling up overcome you.

You just run, eventually losing your tie somewhere on the sidewalk. You run to nowhere in particular. At some point it even starts to rain and you get completely soaked.

Why did you even react like that? You and Kate were just friends. Yet, you felt like someone had punched you in the gut. Apparently your little innocent crush had become something much more bigger.

At one point your lungs were burning, so you stopped, crouching down to catch your breath. You looked up. Funny enough you were right in front of Kate's mum penthouse. In all New York you found yourself right where you didn't want to be.

Then you heard a voice calling your name.

You turned around, seeing Kate running towards you, her hair soaked, her dress sticking to her form, her shoes in one hand and your tie in the other.

"Hey, damn..." Once she approached you she placed one hand on her hip, panting. "You're very fast..." She chokes a laugh and takes a couple of deep breaths.

You stand in front of her, blinking away the drops falling from the dark sky.

"Why'd you run off like that?"

You stay silent. A lighting stroke, brightening the surroundings for a millisecond. A second later, a thunder rumbled. You flinched.

"We better get inside." She took you by the wrist, as you didn't seem to move from your spot, and dragged you inside. She greeted the door man and went straight to the elevator.

Once you entered the huge penthouse Kate brought you to her old room. She went to her wardrobe and took out some old sweatpants and what you figured was her high school archery team sweater, its back covered in faded letters that spelled out her surname and the front with the logo of her high school. "Here." She handed them to you.

"Thanks." You took the clothes. "I'll go to the bathroom for a second." You walked out of the room.

You splashed cold water on your face, even if it was still wet from the rain. You changed into the clothes Kate has given you, immediately feeling like you could fall asleep at any moment with how comfortable they felt. You take a big breath, looking yourself in the mirror, your eyes a bit red: you did cry after all.

You walked back to Kate's room, but she wasn't there.

"Kate?" You shouted, your voice echoing on the walls of the penthouse.

"In the kitchen!" She shouted from downstairs. You followed her voice and found her searching through some cupboards. She had changed into a loose T-shirt and some sweatpants. Some water was already rumbling in a kettle and two mugs were on the kitchen island.

"What kind of tea would you like?" She takes out a box full of different kind of tea bags.

"I'm okay with a simple black tea, thanks." You lean on the kitchen island. Kate placed a black tea bag in a mug along with three spoons of sugar. "Three spoons right?" She asked you.

You nodded. A warm feeling creeping up your stomach thinking about how she remembered a stupid little thing like how many sugar spoons you want in your tea.

"You're such a sweet tooth." She chuckles. You playfully slap her on the shoulder. And she nudges you with her hip as a payback.

She grabbed some chocolate, cookies and other sweets to go along with the tea. She waited for the water to boil, leaning on the counter next to you.

"He's not my boyfriend, you know." Kate speaks up after a moment of silence. "He-" She pauses, taking a deep breath. "My mum, she- she is constantly throwing these rich boys at me. So that when I finish college I'd be already settled and ready to start a family." She sighs and takes a piece of chocolate in her mouth.

"But you don't want that."

She shakes her head. "Nope. So thanks for running away. Like that I got an excuse to get away from that stupid party." She laughs, looking up at you.

"You're welcome, I guess." You crack a laugh too. At that point the kettle whistles and Kate goes to grab it, pouring it in the two mugs. "Thanks."

Kate took her mug, taking a sip of the hot tea. Silence fell between the two of you, the only sound being the heavy rain tapping violently on the windows.

She knew you were avoiding to talk about what happened at the party, since you were looking down, analysing the mug with a lot of interest.

So she took the matter in her own hands. "That kiss didn't mean anything to me."

Your eyes lifted up from your mug. "It didn't?"

Kate chuckled amused. "Of course it didn't. I don't want that douche bag. Or any other douche bag my mum made me go out with." She places the mug back down, turning her feet to stand in front of you.

She stares at you, opening her mouth and closing it immediately a couple of times, trying to understand how she should put her words. Then she takes your hands in hers.

"Y/N, you have to know that you're more than a friend to me." A beat passes. "And I think that it's the same for you given that dramatic exit you did earlier, am I right?" She lets out a single chuckle and squeezes your hands, gazing expectantly in your eyes.

You look up and only now realise how close Kate has gotten to you. The little freckle under her right eye that you daydreamed kissing first thing in the morning catching your attention. Your eyes traveled down, the gaze stopping at a little cut above her jaw, probably caused by too much archery practice.

You were so focused in analysing every little pore of her beautiful face when Kate snapped you back to reality. "Hey! You okay?"

"Oh. Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." You nod.

"So what do you have to say about that Cinderella style exit?" You feel like she's teasing you now, mostly from her little smirk forming on her lips.

"Well-" You exhale deeply, preparing for the inevitable. "I was jealous." You mumble so quietly it would've been hard for Kate to hear even if she was inches away from you.

"What was that?" Okay, now she's definitely teasing you.

"I was jealous, okay?" You snap. Then you clear your throat, collecting your emotions. "I was jealous of you kissing that guy wanting it to be..." you trail off.

"You." Kate finishes your sentence. "You wanted to be in his place."

"Yeah."

"Then we should fix that, shouldn't we?" Kate's right hand travels up your side, stopping to cup your cheek. She waits for your ok before doing anything. And once you nod, her lips press softly against yours.

"That better?" She grins once she pulls back from the kiss.

You feel your whole body burn into flames. And after a second of composing yourself you decide that it's your turn to play with her. "No."

"Oh you want more?" She raises both her eyebrows, her hand still caressing your cheek.

You nod and with a dumb smile she leans forward again.

You're not sure if it has been minutes or an hour when you pull back. The only thing you know is that you're out of breath and in heaven.

Kate speaks up softly "That was..."

Before you could finish her sentence a loud thunder roars through the sky, making you jump and squeeze her hand hard.

Kate's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you scared of thunderstorms?" She's biting the inside of her cheek to not smile even more wider than she already is. She's not teasing you, well, maybe just a tiny bit.

"What? No. I'm not scared of-" another thunder and you jump again.

"Oh my god, you are." She laughs.

"Shut up." You lean your head on Kate's shoulder to hide the red growing on your cheeks.

"Make me." She lifts your head up by your chin.

So you make her shut up, by kissing her again. You still flinch when yet another thunder rumbles even more louder than the other, and break the kiss.

"Okay, okay." Her arms wrap around you, keeping your body safe and flushed against hers. "Wanna go snuggle under a blanket and watch a movie?"

"Yeah, that'd be very nice." She looks behind you, where the cups of tea, stay on the counter cold and forgotten. "We should make some more tea too." But before she detaches from you she can't help but connect her lips with yours for the fourth time. She already can't get enough.

And she will never get enough of you. Ever.

#kate bishop #fluff #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #first kiss #marvel

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nanamis-bigtie · 5 months

Text

ꕥ in the heat of spring | rush hours feat. ino takuma x reader

content warnings: pwp, reader has vagina and breasts, sex at a love hotel, feminine pet names, praise, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex word count: 3.5k mood prompt: gentle and commanding kink prompt: sex in clothes requested by: @mirkaaaluv a/n: well, well, well, if it hasn't gotten out of hand ^^" i wanted this, and other heat of spring texts, to be 1k words and best and yet, here we go. i guess ino just has his own set of rules lmao

The atmosphere changed as soon as the door opened and revealed your chosen room.

Ino's hand, so far only nudging you gently towards your destination, wanders down, to your ass, and sinks fingers into the soft flesh. You've expected the move—and yet, you jerk up, barely catching a high-pitched yelp at your throat. You're so tense that even a brush of a feather would send you spinning, an unambiguous touch is almost like a torture.

A welcomed one but a torture, nevertheless.

It's your first time at a love hotel as a guest and something about this fact keeps you right on the thin line between excitement and panic. It's hard to find a rational explanation for your state; you've been in many of them before, as a sorcerer, perpetually erasing the curses born of lust, stress, and raveled emotions you loathed to name but learnt by heart and damped down in order to do your job properly. You gave this place a quick scan even before you stepped into the main hall, and it was as clean as a sex-focused establishment could be. You stared intently at the blurry silhouette of the check-in clerk behind the frosted glass as Ino paid for your room and claimed the card key, but there was nothing suspicious about them. You looked around for residuals or disturbing vibes that could betray a presence—past or present—of a curse, just to find nothing.

It was a safe hotel—and yet, you were much more tense than you ever were in those cursed ones.

"You okay?" Ino puts the card key into the holder, turns the light on, finally closes the door behind you two. "You're…kinda pale. Is it—"

"No." You cut in, your voice calm and unbothered, contrary to a shriek you've expected. "Definitely not. I've checked."

"No curses?"

"No curses."

Ino laughs and kisses the back of your neck, "If there was one around, I'd tear it with bare hands, I think. I fought for this fuck break for a week. C'mon, ladies first."

Nudged by a playful yet hearty squeeze on your ass, you finally step fully in. The room is almost soundproof; the soothing music played from the speakers at the corridor is immediately replaced by serene silence. Fighting against weirdly stiff legs, you take a few curious steps inside; the space is on the smaller side but well organized and cozy for a hotel booked for a single night at best. There's a small tv, speakers, two chairs by a coffee table with a small basket (filled with everything you would need from an establishment of this kind), door leading to a private bathroom—and, of course, the main star of the event: a comfy-looking bed, big enough to fit not two but even three adults at once.

In any other place and time, you would happily pounce straight on it, to test if it's as soft as the views promise—but with legs so stiff and your head spinning you need another nudge from your boyfriend to finally approach closer.

"Well—" Ino is right behind you, the side of his face pressed close to yours and his fingers slowly tracing your sides. "—how do you like it?"

"It's…nice. Very nice."

For a starter, you've been aiming for a cautious sit at the edge of the bed, but Ino is faster, bolder, and impatient with your guarded behavior. Hand on your hip, he spins you around and crashes lips against yours. It's a hasty, hungry kiss, full of longing and agony of separation for weeks of work, stress, and all of this cursed bullshit pulling you two out of your routine. You can't blame Ino for finally snapping; you feel it too, the fire you forced into the subconsciousness has perked its head up and is pushing you now into his hungry arms. The familiar tight knot in your abdomen is pulling hard, harder than you've felt since what seems forever, and begging for a fast and intense release.

If he kissed you like this for longer, the weird tension would evaporate from your head—but Ino's in a rush, as always when his needs are pent up to the verge of bursting. He pulls away from your lips just to push you on the bed, yanks the beanie off his head, hesitates over doing the same with the hoodie just for a second but leaves it, already too starved of your closeness. He advances on you with such momentum that he pushes air out of your lungs—and doesn't let you take another breath before kissing you again with the same fervor. The horny beast in you growls, pleased, and your legs immediately open to fit him better—but the tension at the back of your head remains and tries its best to tie your body into its submission.

"Fuck, I need you..." Ino rasps into your ear, sending harsh shivers down your spine. He ruts his hips against you, the rapidly growing bulge against your groin leaving you no doubts you're for a fast and bumpy ride. You mewl and crane your neck for his lips, jerk your hips up in an answer to his bite, whimper, and moan when he lingers to mark you with a hickey.

His hands don't give your nerves the same luxury; using one for leverage to pin you with his body just enough, he sneaks the other under your clothes. It traces your tum lovingly but, remembering you have only three hours yanked out of your tight schedule, dives into your pants and panties shortly after.

"You're tense," Ino points out as he's spilling wet kisses from your jaw towards your neck and lower.

"This is new," you admit but don't follow any further, trying to silence your uneasiness with haste, shallow kisses that swallow his pleased murmurs and mewls. There is no time for niceties, both of you know it—and you're not letting your weird qualms get in your way, not with the fire spilling between your legs just at the brush of his fingers against your slit.

It's uncomfortable to maneuver under your jeans without unzipping them but Ino would endure even digging in a cooling-down concrete if it meant he could finally touch the place he longed for the most. He curses under breath, his words moist against your neck, and finally finds an angle that satisfies him. His thumb traces your slit, spreads your labia and toys with your clit—touch undeniably pleasant but also palpably rushed, especially for a man who could finger you for hours, until you were nothing but a puddle melting in his hands. He's rather seeking for your arousal than working for it; you're more damp than wet but that's enough, it was before, and your thighs quiver by his sides when he teases right at your entrance.

Tension itches at the back of your head; when Ino's eyes seek yours you nod with agreement, maybe even too sharply to pass as genuine. Under other circumstances he would point it out and ask to be doubly sure, to read the sweet consent from the timbre of your voice, but his senses are as hazy as yours—and he's not thinking with the right brain anymore.

He adjusts the position of his hand one more time—and slides two fingers into you, at once.

Instead of the expected surge of pleasure, your body spasms and you hiss sharply as you try to stop your hips from jerking away. The tension hasn't worked in your favor; yes, the moisture would be more than enough if you were at home, lazy and relaxed, but here it fights against his fingers, access suspended, no matter what your soul and mind are craving.

Ino immediately notices.

"Oh baby, did I hurt you?" He withdraws his hand and lifts himself on both arms now, giving you more space beneath him. The wildfire in his eyes has turned warm and docile, and he's looking at you with nothing but concern—and guilt, creeping at the corners of his big, puppy eyes.

"No, don't worry, I'm alright." You scratch at the back of his head, yourself not sure if to calm down him, yourself, or both at once. You don't know how to explain your current situation without sounding too intricately and ridiculously. You're tempted to joke that you would feel more at ease if there was a curse in the next room, but that's not really the strategy you're looking for to salvage the mood.

"A false start?" Ino finds the right words first and exhales with relief when you agree. "Shit... I was so focused on time... My bad. I'm sorry."

When he reaches to your lips again, the kiss is softer, asking for your forgiveness, but as enthusiastic as before. There's still plenty of heat in between the two of you, so it doesn't take long for your moves to turn sloppy and hungry anew. He's more cautious, though, and doesn't budge from his position any further than needed to sip from you. No matter how tempting you and your mewls are, he's not caving in, not until you're nice and putty in his arms.

It seems it's been hours when he finally asks if you want to continue, and you nod with such enthusiasm that your vision goes blurry for a moment, the tension at the back of your head already too lazy to perk its head, peeking curiously at the situation instead.

A soft kiss on your cheek later, Ino climbs off the bed and, finally, strips off his hoodie. The view itself does wonders to your mood; his athletic and lean body is a work of art, begging to be touched, licked, and caressed. You stare at his back intently as you work your pants and panties down—and count its crevices and lines of defined muscles you're going to trace soon. The tension lets out only a warning thrum when your partner starts digging in the basket with love hotel goods, but it's pretty much its last spasm.

With a comically triumphant noise, Ino turns with a bottle of lube and a condom in his hands—and stops in his tracks at the sight of your half-naked body. He takes a harsher breath when you roll your shirt over your waist; from the weight of his stare, you know he's inches from pouncing on top of you again. Nerves and will of steel, forged in heated battles against curses, pay off in a situation like this, he shrugs the temptation off and snuffs out the wildfire running through his veins.

Everything for your sake.

"You spoil me." The mattress dips under his weight as Ino approaches you on his knees, opening the lube with his teeth at the same time. He spits the cap out on the floor and sits by your side on his heels. He takes his time studying your curves, almost motionless if not for his chest heaving with need and his abdominal muscles tensing and twitching. He might be controlling himself, but it doesn't come with ease. Each breath is a fight against his instincts, racing thoughts, and pulsing hardness relentlessly pushing on his jeans.

"Show yourself to me, pretty girl." He finally snaps out of trance and pours lube, almost everything he has, on his fingers. A smile grows on his face as you listen, bending your legs in knees and spreading them wide for him. "Yes, just like this... Fuck, you're so hot..."

Scooting closer, Ino moves in between them, eyes fixed on his goal, warm and ready for him—but still takes his time to adore you properly. He leans close to your thigh, kisses your knee with sweet affection and advances further down, until he has you giggling and mewling with anticipation—so close to your core yet so painfully away.

One flick of gaze up later he finally reaches between your legs again—the strategy and technique all the same but slower and patient. He spreads lube along your slit as he caresses it, working his way past the last knots of your hesitation. He teases and asks for permission until he's sure your gasps and spasms are genuine in every way possible, and even there, he takes his sweet time playing with your clit. In the heated rush you've almost forgotten how sadistic and stubborn he can be if only he wants to spoil you beyond the expectations. Soon he has every single one of your nerves taunt and at the mercy of his fingertips and midst your hazy mind you're thanking the conditions for giving you two so little time, otherwise he would boil you right there for painfully long hours.

Right as you're ready to beg for more, Ino finally makes his move, starting with a single finger this time.

"There we go, smooth and easy..." He's slow and careful, his eyes fixed on your pussy as he fills you up to his knuckle. "Such a good girl, Y/N..."

He adds another one and smirks down at your expression. Not caring about the mess, he tosses the bottle with lube away and lies beside you, chest flush to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath right by your ear, heavy and right on the verge of a needy groan; prolonging the fast has its great price and he's paying without a blink. It's so unbelievably hot to have him so worked up with only two fingers in you, to be so adored and needed that he's taut like a string on the verge of snapping, and his tongue is tying into knots as he's whispering dirty encouragements for you.

"My... You're getting so wet now..." His voice is throaty, tense and almost breaking, in the most sensual way. "Sucking me in... Can you squeeze a little more? Oh yes, that's right, that's a good girl, working so hard to take my fingers. Do you think you can take another one? I'll be gentle. You need to take it, if you want my cock, pretty girl."

His breathing hitches when you, indeed, take the third finger. Rutting against your side, his hard-rock length twitching in his jeans, he moans, loud and pathetic, at your cunt fluttering around his knuckles. His patience is on the verge of crumbling; even the gentlest and most loving boyfriend has his limits and Ino has pushed past them ages ago. Even midst the hot-red haze mantling your mind you can feel him struggling. His moves turn less precise and sloppy, once almost ceasing, once rushing and seeking that one last nerve to graze and snap. Along with willpower he's losing his focus, putting it instead whole into not cumming into his pants.

And yet, despite everything, he puts you in the first place.

"Fuck..." Ino flounders between words, trying to play two roles at once and win his prize in both of them. "It's so hot... Pretty girl, please? Can I fuck you now? Look, you're taking my fingers already... Fuck— You're taking them so well... Will you cum on them? I want you to cum. Please, cum for me, sweetheart."

He whispers a please after a please into your ear, abandoning stretching you for the sake of moving the remains of his focus to your clit. He rubs it fast and sloppily, far from ideal but makes up for it with desperation and not ceasing until your heels start to dig in the mattress and your thighs to spasm and shake.

"Do it now, sweet girl." He trips over his words as if he was as close to the release as you're now, but he finds enough willpower to show dominance one last time before he finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body spasms, the buildup and anticipation resulting in a strong, mind-numbing and exhausting orgasm. For a moment there's nothing for you but blank, overwhelming pleasure, white silence and dry, itching pain in your lungs, as if you forgot how to breathe when you were crying out his name.

You return to your senses with stickiness all over your skin and his hot breath pressed to your sweaty neck with a silent pleading for more.

Ino licks his lips when your gaze meets and smiles, as cheeky and proud of his work as impatient. His eyes are glossy, feverish, and his cheeks are flushed so much they're beaming with heat, "Are you okay?"

You nod, not quite having power to say something yet.

"Do you want more? Can I take you?"

Another nod—and a bright smile at his sudden, childish pounce at given consent. Ino's hands are shaking when he unbuckles and unzips his jeans; his fluffy happy trail leads your gaze towards his heavy, twitching erection and precum beading at its head, threatening to spill everything at the slightest friction. He doesn't do much better when rolling a condom on, almost dropping it straight out of the wrapping and dragging a dry spasm of laughter out of you.

"See what you're doing to me, you little minx?" He says once finally successful and squirts the last dollop of lube along his shaft. He spreads it with a few strokes—biting on the bottom lip as he's doing so, so close to his finish that even a loose, almost mechanical jerk of a hand is overstimulating—then finally takes his place between your legs.

He spreads your knees further open, pulls your hips closer and helps you rest your calves against his chest. Before he guides your ankles to his shoulders, he brushes a gentle kiss against the elastic band of one of your socks, then the mark it left before it slid down.

"Ready?" He asks, voice shaking, as he's rubbing himself against your puffy, sensitive clit: shallow, pleading thrusts that could as well just get him off right over you.

You nod again and your eyes flutter in pleasure as Ino wastes no time and slides in, with ease and a loud, guttural groan. He stills mid-way in, intense twitching inside of you calling for a fast finish, but he manages to calm himself down enough to press further, leading your knees towards your chest until he meets your limit.

"Holy shit..." Eyes closed, Ino bites on his lips almost to blood. Sweat pearls on his forehead, first droplets trickle down his temples, and his arms, supporting your legs, start shaking. "This is... Fuck, baby girl, I missed it... I missed you so much..."

He twitches harder when you trace his back, lets out a single dry sob when you run fingers through his hair and pull him closer to yourself. It's okay, he has worked hard for it, he can let go and just enjoy himself. You want to say all of this aloud, but only breathing and soft mewls feel right now—and he's too lost in it to hear all of that anyway.

His control snaps, from tranquil and nearly motionless he switches into the highest gear in seconds, and his deep, harsh, desperate thrusts pierce your body deeper into the soft mattress. It's primal and selfish, and the closest to using you Ino could ever get, each day of loneliness and pent-up tension written in the frantic and sloppy rhythm of his hips. It could have been too much for your body, so spent after an intense orgasm, but he doesn't last long, soon whining and moaning, and finally coming, with fingers digging into your thighs and head falling into the crook of your neck.

He's thrusting into you, at the end only rocking gently against you, until he has no cum and power left in him. He lets your legs slide by his sides and sprawls himself on top of you, heavy, sweaty, so hot against your barely pulled-up shirt and his jeans lowered just below his hips.

"Holy shit, I needed that." There's a trace of smile in Ino's voice—and even in his groan when he fails to pull out of you and has to collapse on you again.

With a pleased, agreeing hum you wrap arms around him and giggle when he finds some steam in him to nibble on your neck. The room is filled with your breathing, mixed musk of your bodies, and the barely audible but steady buzz of the electronics. Now, when nestled cozy with his body close to yours and his lips affectionately tasting your skin, the worry and tension that got in between the two of you feel so irrational that you want to laugh. How could you possibly feel so out of place when you had Ino by your side all this time? The rhythm of his heart and smell of his cologne alone have you feeling at home, safe, cozy and loved.

"How much time do we have left?" Ino fishes his phone from the back pocket, furrows his brows, displeased, when he glances over the screen. "Hey. Do you think we can make it with one more round, shower and a lunch in less than an hour?"

"Do you still have power left after that?" You giggle when he wriggles to find a comfortable position, tickling you while doing so. "You're crazy."

"Nah." He sinks teeth into your shoulder, playfully, but hard enough to leave a little mark. "I'm not just crazy. I'm crazy for you."

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @honey-deku @ohnococo

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #jjk ino x reader #ino takuma x you #ino x you #jjk ino x you #bas writes #sinful #in the heat of spring #female reader

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