#everyone will remember your take on this conflict | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roomsofangel · 2 days

Text

LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter six

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 10.3k (yes you read that right…)

chapter warnings oh lord.. okay so alcohol consumption, mentions of grief and death (yeosang), a lot of guilt and blaming themselves, seonghwa breaks down, wooyoung talks a lot about death and dying at one point, gets a little suggestive towards the end

a/n this fic is almost over </3 can you believe that? this chapter actually was even longer, including the full smut towards the end but i felt after writing it, it didn’t fit and i could possibly post it separately if anyone wants that. but with that aside— i hope you’re comfortable and have a few snacks maybe even tissues?? a lot is unpacked here

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

sitting on your bed, you bite your nails anxiously, your mind lost in thought as the complexities of your situation swirl around you like a storm. each circle of thought feels like a vice grip around your chest, making it harder to breathe. the weight of it all bears down on you, and you can't escape the feeling that you let wooyoung down, that you've failed yourself and everyone else. you let your head sink into your hands, and you take a deep, shaky breath.

the air in the room seems thick and stifling, and you struggle to find any solace in the silence that surrounds you. all you can think about is the tangled mess you've gotten yourself into, and the disappointment that you can feel building in the pit of your stomach. you know that you need to figure out a way to fix this, but at the moment, everything seems so overwhelming that you can barely think straight.

the weight of the day to come settles on your shoulders, and you can't stop thinking about the upcoming meeting with hongjoong, seonghwa, and san. you all know that wooyoung needs help, but the thought of having to confront your own grief along with his struggle felt like too much to bear. it was beginning to feel like an impossible task, and you can't help but despair at the thought of watching your best friend go through the same self-destructive path that your other friend did. how can you possibly find a way to help him, when you can barely help yourself?

you feel like you're drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions — grief, guilt, helplessness, and frustration. every thought feels like a weight dragging you down deeper and deeper into the tumultuous waves. how are you supposed to help wooyoung when you can barely keep your own head above water?

your own heart was beating out of your chest, and the phrase "too much" was just about all you could use to describe the overwhelming onslaught of emotions rushing through you. it was getting to be almost too much to handle, but you also knew — you refused — to give up on wooyoung. he was your best friend, and you couldn't bear the thought of abandoning him in his time of need. you just had to hang on and figure out what to do next.

you all sat in seonghwa's living room, the air felt heavy with tension as you all tried to figure out where to start. finally, san broke the silence, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife. "how do we go about this?" he asked, his eyes flicking between all of you. everyone seemed to tense up at san's words, the reality of the situation crashing down on all of you.

you looked around at the others, seeing the worry and concern etched on their faces. hongjoong's jaw was clenched tightly, and seonghwa looked like he was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but the muscles in his neck were tense.

you all were trying to get by and cope in your own ways, while also trying to prevent a similar tragedy from occurring. how do you save someone who seems to not want to be saved?

it felt like an impossible task — trying to save someone who seemed hell-bent on self-destruction. how do you pull someone back from the edge when they're determined to jump? yes, you and the others were doing your best to cope and prevent a tragedy, but it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. you all wanted to save wooyoung, but he seemed unwilling to even try to save himself.

the tension in the room was palpable as you all sat there in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. hongjoong spoke up, his voice gruff with emotion. "we can't force wooyoung to change if he doesn't want to, but we can't just sit back and watch him destroy himself.“

“we.. we were blind to the signs before and i can’t risk it now,”

the words sent a pang of guilt through your chest. it was clear that hongjoong was blaming himself for not being able to save yeosang, and you could see the guilt and shame in the faces of seonghwa and san as well. you knew that you all felt responsible. hongjoong's voice broke the heavy silence that followed his words. "we all failed yeosang," he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the weight of that statement hung in the air like a pall, and you could feel the guilt and self-blame radiating off of all of you. you knew that you had all failed yeosang, in your own ways. you should have been there for him more, should have noticed the signs sooner, should have done something to prevent his downfall. but you hadn't, and now it was too late.

you had all failed yeosang, and now you were desperately trying not to repeat the same mistake with wooyoung. but even as you sat there, trying to figure out how to save your best friend, a small voice in the back of your head was screaming at you, telling you that this time, you were going to fail too.

you couldn't shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself, that no matter what you did, you were going to end up losing wooyoung just as you had yeosang. it was a heavy weight to carry, and you could tell that the others were feeling it too. the silence in the room was deafening, and the sense of hopelessness was practically suffocating.

the words escaped your mouth before you could stop them, your voice cracking with emotion as you spoke. "i can't give up on wooyoung," you repeated, determined to make them understand. "i won't let him down." your eyes flickered around the room, meeting the gazes of the others one by one. you could see the pain and sorrow in their eyes, but there was also a glimmer of hope — hope that maybe this time, things could be different.

they all nodded, silently agreeing with you. hongjoong’s jaw was still clenched tight, but his eyes met yours with a fierce determination. seonghwa looked pale, but there was a gleam of determination in his gaze as well. even san, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, gave you a solemn nod. they all wanted to save wooyoung as much as you did.

the room lapsed into silence once more, but this time, it was more determined than hopeless. you could feel the resolve in the air, the quiet determination to not let history repeat itself. you knew that it wasn't going to be easy, and that there was a very real chance that you would fail, but you also knew that you had to try. for wooyoung, for yeosang, and for yourselves.

as soon as you stepped inside your shared home, you could hear the faint sound of a guitar coming from wooyoung's room. it was a sound you hadn't heard in a long time, and it sent a pang of nostalgia through you. you couldn't remember the last time you'd heard him pick up his guitar, and a frown tugged at your lips as you realized how long it had been. you stood there for a moment, just listening to the quiet music coming from his room.

the sound of the guitar was soft, almost mournful, and it tugged at your heartstrings. you stood outside his door, listening for a moment longer, feeling a mixture of sadness and hope stirring in your chest. you knew that music had always been an outlet for wooyoung, a way for him to express himself when he couldn't find the words. maybe this was a small glimmer of the old him peeking through.

the music suddenly stopped, and you shook yourself out of your thoughts. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should knock on his door or leave him alone. you knew that he wouldn't want you to see him like this, but something was pulling you towards his room. eventually, you gently knocked on his door, trying to keep your voice steady. "wooyoung?"

there was silence from the other side of the door for a few moments, and you almost started to turn away when you heard a soft, muffled voice. "come in," wooyoung said, and you obeyed, slowly pushing open the door and stepping into his room.

as you stepped into his room, the memories of the past few days came crashing back into your mind. you hadn't been able to truly be in his room since that night, when you had found out what he had been hiding from you. and even looking at him had been difficult, ever since that surprising kiss. it was as if everything was becoming more complicated by the minute, and you didn't know how to feel about it.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and looked up at wooyoung, who was sitting on his bed with a defeated expression on his face.

his shoulders were slumped, and he looked smaller than usual. there was a hollow look in his eyes, and you could see the sadness etched on his features. the usually vibrant wooyoung that you knew had been replaced by this shell of a person, and it broke your heart to see him like this. you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check, before finally speaking. "can i...can i sit down?"

wooyoung shrugged, gesturing lazily to the space beside him on the bed. "yeah, whatever." his voice was flat, lacking his usual sarcastic humor. you slowly took a seat on the bed, keeping a small distance between you two, and waited for him to speak.

the silence in the room was deafening, and you could feel the tension between the two of you like a physical weight. you watched as wooyoung fiddled with the strings on his guitar, his eyes downcast. you could tell that he wasn't going to speak first, so you took a deep breath and broke the silence yourself. "i...i missed hearing you play," you said softly.

wooyoung's fingers paused on the strings, and he looked up at you with a brief flash of surprise in his eyes. "you did?" he asked, his voice still flat. he sounded skeptical, as if he couldn't believe that you would miss something as small as his guitar playing.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tense atmosphere between you two. "yeah, i did," you said softly. "it’s been a while since i’ve heard you play." you paused, searching for the right words. "i know....i know things have been rough lately, but...hearing you play...it reminds me of happier times."

there was a flicker of something in wooyoung's eyes, something that looked almost like a spark of recognition. his expression softened for a moment, but then he quickly looked away, his shoulders hunching up again. "happier times," he repeated, his voice bitter. "those days are gone, remember?"

you felt a pang in your heart at his words, the truth of them sending a wave of sadness through you. you knew he was right, that things could never go back to how they were before. "i know," you whispered, your voice thick with emotions. "but...but that doesn't mean there can't be happier days in the future too, right?"

wooyoung sighed heavily, his fingers picking up their restless fiddling with the strings. "what’s the point?" he mumbled, his voice low and defeated. "everything's just going to fall apart eventually, so what's the point of trying to be happy in the first place?"

your heart ached at his words, at the resigned acceptance in his voice. you wanted to reach out and shake him, to make him see that there was still hope, that there was still joy to be found in life. but you knew that it wouldn't do any good. he was too deep in his own despair, too focused on the negatives to see anything else. "that’s not true," you said softly, your voice gentle. "you can't just give up on happiness, woo."

wooyoung scoffed, finally looking up at you with a sardonic smile. "can’t i?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "why not? what’s the point of being happy when it's all just going to end anyway? when we're all just going to die in the end?"

you felt a wave of frustration and heartache at his words. "because that's not all there is to life," you said firmly. "yes, bad things happen, and people die, and everything ends eventually. but...but that doesn't mean there's no joy to be found in the meantime. life isn't just about the ending, it's about all the moments in between too."

wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you sound like a hallmark card," he said, a hint of mockery in his voice. "life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. sometimes, it's just a giant shitstorm that drags you down until you can't see any light."

and you knew that he was right. life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, and sometimes it was a giant shitstorm that dragged you down. you both had lost yeosang, after all, you knew all too well what life could throw. but that didn't mean you had to give up on happiness entirely. "i know that," you said softly, keeping your voice steady. "but...but that doesn't mean it can't be good sometimes too."

wooyoung’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a heavy sigh. "what’s the point, though? what’s the point of even trying when everything just falls apart in the end?" he mumbled, his eyes unfocused. you could tell that he wasn't just talking about happiness, but about life in general. he looked so lost, so broken, and you didn't know how to fix it. all you could do was speak softly, trying to break through his cloud of despair.

"the point is that life is worth living, woo," you said gently. "yes, things fall apart, and bad things happen, but that doesn't mean we should give up altogether. life is about the journey, not just the destination." you paused, trying to find the right words. "don’t give up on happiness. don’t give up on life, woo. please."

wooyoung's expression hardened, his shoulders tensing up. "easy for you to say," he muttered, his voice sharp. "you still have hope, still believe in this whole happy ending crap."

"and you don't?" you asked, your voice soft. wooyoung’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, avoiding your gaze

the room fell silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. you could see the internal struggle playing out on wooyoung's face, the part of him that wanted to believe in hope warring with the part that had given up. finally, he looked back up at you, his expression resigned. "i don't think i do," he said, his voice low and bitter. "it all just feels pointless now."

your heart broke at his words, and you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you hated seeing him like this, so defeated and hopeless. "woo—" you started to say, but he cut you off, his voice sharp. "don’t," he growled. "don’t try to give me some pep talk about hope and happiness. it’s all bullshit, and you know it."

you didn’t want to give up on wooyoung, you promised him. it might have seemed so stupid holding onto a promise the two of you made as kids but you held onto it tighter than ever before now, “but what isn’t bullshit is that i care about you and i refuse to give up on you.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. vulnerability, maybe. but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a steely determination. "why?" he asked, his voice gruff. "why do you even care? why won't you give up on me?"

the contrast between then and now was like a punch to the gut. you couldn't believe that this cold, distant wooyoung was the same one who had sobbed in your arms, begging you not to give up on him. it was a sharp reminder of how far he had fallen, how much his despair had changed him and it hadn’t even been that long of a time gap. wooyoung was falling victim rapidly to his own despair and you can’t keep up.

you wanted to cry out, to scream at him, to shake him until he snapped out of this, but you knew that wouldn't help. all you could do was keep your voice level, keep your face neutral as you replied. "because you're my best friend, woo. because i love you. because i don't think you're completely gone yet. not yet."

wooyoung's expression flickered again, the coldness in his eyes faltering for a moment. "best friend," he repeated, his voice low. "right." there was a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you could see something else beneath it - a flicker of vulnerability, maybe even hope. he looked away, avoiding your gaze as he muttered, "i’m a lost cause, remember? too far gone."

"no, you're not.. not to me," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill over. "you're not too far gone. you’re still in there, woo. the boy who used to make stupid jokes and play pranks on me. the boy who used to chase butterflies in the park. the boy who was my best friend. you’re still there, somewhere."

wooyoung's jaw ticked, and he looked back up at you. "that boy is gone," he said, his voice hard. "he died with yeosang." but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes, as if he wasn't completely convinced by his own words. you could see him struggling, grappling with the conflicting emotions within him.

you took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "no, he's not," you said firmly. "he’s buried deep down, buried under all that pain and grief and despair. but he's still there, woo. and i’m not gonna give up on him - on you - until he comes back."

wooyoung's gaze flicked over your face, searching your eyes for any sign of dishonesty. but all he saw was determination and unwavering belief in him. a flash of something passed through his eyes - hope, maybe? or just resignation? he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped. "you're crazy, you know that?" he muttered, his voice gruff.

a small smile tugged at your lips at his words. "maybe," you admitted. "but i’m not giving up on you, woo. no matter how much you try to push me away. i’m gonna be here.”

wooyoung scowled, his gaze dropping down to his guitar. his fingers fidgeted with the strings, the sound of discordant notes filling the air. "you’re a stubborn idiot, you know that?" he mumbled, but there was no real bite to his words.

"and you're a stubborn, self-deprecating idiot," you shot back, a hint of humor in your voice. "but lucky for you, i happen to like stubborn, self-deprecating idiots."

against his will, a small huff of laughter escaped wooyoung’s lips, and he quickly covered it up with a cough. “you’re something else, alright,” he muttered, glancing up at you with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“i guess that’s why i fell in love with you in the first place.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt yourself flush slightly. it was still a surprise to hear him admit that he had fallen in love with you, even after all the mess that had come between you two. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the hint of a smile that tugged at your lips. "i guess you just have bad taste," you quipped, your voice light.

wooyoung let out a soft snort, his lips curving up into a small smirk. "yeah, that must be it," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. he looked up at you again, and for a moment, it was like the old wooyoung was back - the teasing, playful boy that you used to know. the glimmer of hope in your chest flickered brighter.

you could feel the mood shifting, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. you let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relieved. wooyoung’s expression softened slightly, his gaze flickering over your face again. "you’re still a pain in the ass though, you know that?" he said, his voice gruff but lacking the usual bite.

you couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a sense of familiarity in his words. "yeah, well, you’re not exactly a picnic yourself,” you retorted, a hint of warmth in your voice.

he let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a jolt of warmth through you. "touché,” he said, his voice softer. he paused, his gaze flicking down to his guitar, and you could see the conflict playing out on his face again.

you waited in silence, letting him sort through his thoughts. you could see the struggle in his eyes - the part of him that still wanted to push you away, to keep his walls up and his heart guarded. but there was also a part of him - a small, vulnerable part - that was slowly breaking through the surface.

wooyoung took a deep breath, his grip on the guitar tightening. "you really won’t give up on me, will you?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper. his gaze flicked back up to you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation.

meeting his gaze unflinchingly, your heart clenching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "no," you said firmly, your voice gentle but unwavering. "i won’t give up on you, woo. i’m gonna be here, no matter how much you try to push me away."

wooyoung’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “god, you’re infuriating,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. despite his words, there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “why are you always so goddamn stubborn?”

you couldn’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth of affection for him. “because i love you, you idiot,” you said teasingly. “and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

he rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips grew wider. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, setting his guitar down on the floor. he looked up at you again, his gaze softer than it had been before. “i don’t deserve you, you know that?”

“don’t start that whole ‘i don’t deserve you’ crap,” you said firmly, your voice a mix of fondness and frustration. “i decide who’s deserving of me, thank you very much.”

wooyoung let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement. “feisty as always,” he said, his voice teasing. he smirked at you, his gaze wandering over your face and down to your lips. “somehow, that makes me fall for you even more.”

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and you cursed yourself internally for being so weak for him. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but you knew he could see the effect he had on you. “you’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to mask your flustered state with nonchalance.

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he said, his smirk growing wider. he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands as he continued to gaze at you with playful admiration. “there must be something wrong with you, falling for someone as insufferable as me.”

you let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head at his audacity. “there’s definitely something wrong with me,” you agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. “must be some sort of masochism, loving a stubborn, sarcastic, self-deprecating idiot like you.”

wooyoung let out a mock gasp, his hand flying up to his chest in feigned shock. “how dare you!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with mock outrage. “insulting my good name like that. and here i was, thinking you loved me for my charming personality and dashing looks.”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics, a laugh escaping your lips. “well, your good looks do help make up for it,” you said, a hint of teasing in your voice. “but your personality could use some work.”

you couldn’t deny the wave of nostalgia that washed over you at the familiar banter. it was as if, for a moment, the old wooyoung was back - the one who would tease and flirt with you as easily as breathing.

you found yourself smiling, the heaviness in your heart lifting slightly. it was moments like these - the ones that showed glimpses of the old wooyoung - that gave you hope that he was still in there, somewhere.

when walking inside seonghwa’s apartment, you weren’t sure what to expect, and you found your heart sinking when your gaze landed on the way he was curled up on the floor, tears streaming down his face, your heart clenched in your chest. you rushed over to him, your voice gentle but filled with concern. "hwa? what’s wrong? what happened?"

seonghwa looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. his whole body was shaking, and he looked so small and broken on the floor. he was still in his pyjamas, his normally impeccable hair messy and disheveled.

he took one look at you, and a fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes. “yn,” he whispered your name, his voice cracked and fragile.

all the usual composed and graceful image of him completely shattered in front of you. you didn’t hesitate for a moment, rushing over to him and pulling him into your arms.

“shhh,” you whispered, holding him tightly as he sobbed against your chest. “i’m here, it’s okay hwa.”

seonghwa to you like a lifeline, his fingers grasping at your shirt as if terrified you would disappear if he let go. he buried his face in your shoulder, his whole body quivering with the force of his sobs.

“i can’t do this anymore, yn,” he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. “i can’t…i can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.”

you held him closer, your fingers stroking his hair in a soothing gesture. “i know, hwa,” you whispered back, your voice gentle. “i know…and you don’t have to pretend anymore. you don’t have to be strong for us all the time. let me be strong for you this time, okay?”

seonghwa let out a strangled sob, his body shaking even harder at your words. but he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t try to put up his usual walls and act like he was fine. instead, he just clung to you even tighter, as if desperate for comfort.

“i miss him so much,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. “and i don’t know how i’ll cope if wooyoung..” he couldn’t finish his words as he choked back a sob

you felt your own tears start to well up at his words, and you held him tighter, you knew exactly how he was feeling, because you felt the same way about wooyoung. but seeing seonghwa - the one who had always been the strong, steady shoulder for all of you to lean on - break down like this broke you differently.

you tightened your grip on him, the other arm moving to rub warm circles on his back. “we’re gonna get through this together, hwa. all of us. we’ll help each other through this, okay?”

seonghwa nodded, his fingers digging into your shirt. his sobs had quieted down slightly, but he was still trembling violently in your arms. he buried his face further into your shoulder, his voice hoarse and raw. “promise you won’t leave me too?”

you pulled him even closer to you. “i promise,” you whispered

seonghwa let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. he was still shaking, but it didn’t feel like he was about to fall apart entirely now.

he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes red and puffy, and your heart broke again to see him so broken. “i’m sorry for falling apart on you like this,” he mumbled, his voice small and ashamed.

“don’t be sorry,” you said gently, your fingers continuing to stroke his hair. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s okay to fall apart, hwa. you’ve been so strong for all of us…it’s okay to let yourself be weak sometimes.”

“especially with everything going on? hwa, don’t apologize.. it was bound to happen.”

seonghwa let out a shaky sigh, his body sagging against you. “i…i feel like i have to be strong for all of you,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping down to his hands, which were still clutching onto your shirt. “i feel like if i break, you all will too.”

“i still blame myself for that night.. all because i was weak for one moment.”

the guilt and self-blame was evident in his voice. you wanted to shake him, to tell him that none of it was his fault, that none of you blamed him. but you knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“hwa,” you said softly, “look at me.”

seonghwa lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting yours. his expression was heartbreaking - a mix of guilt, shame, and despair.

“you’re not responsible for us,” you said firmly. “none of us blame you for anything that happened, hwa. and we don’t need you to be strong all the time. we just need you. just you.” you lifted a hand to brush a tear from his cheek, your gaze steady on his.

“i just.. can’t help but feel as if he’d still be here if i hadn’t gone home early that night.” seonghwa whispered

“hwa…,” you began, your voice gentle. “you can’t blame yourself for this. there was no way you could’ve known what would happen. this isn’t your fault, okay?”

seonghwa let out a shaky sigh, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “i know that,” he mumbled, his voice quiet. “but i keep thinking…what if i had just stayed a little longer. or what if i had gone back after yeosang called me. what if…what if i had just been there?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you struggled to keep your voice steady. “it doesn’t matter what you could’ve done, hwa,” you said softly. “you can’t change what happened. and you did what you thought was best. none of it was your fault.”

“…and i know yeosang knows that too..”

seonghwa let out a soft sob, his fingers curling tighter into your shirt. “i know he does,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “but…but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like i failed him. like i failed all of you.”

“you didn’t fail anyone,” you said firmly, your voice gentle. “you’ve been the glue holding us all together, hwa. we’d be lost without you.” you paused, your gaze dropping down to where his fingers were still clenched tightly in your shirt.

seonghwa let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling slightly. “i feel like…like i should’ve done more. like i should’ve known something was wrong. i feel like i should’ve been able to prevent all of this from happening.”

“because now wooyoung is going down that same path.”

“hwa, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “you can’t prevent every tragedy, no matter how much you wish you could.”

seonghwa let out a soft sob, his head dropping forward until his forehead was resting on your shoulder. “but i wish i could,” he whispered, his voice ragged and broken. “i wish i could protect all of you.”

you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a heavy heart. thoughts about wooyoung, seonghwa, and the others kept swirling through your mind, making it impossible to shut your eyes and sleep.

your mind kept going back to seonghwa, to the broken and shattered expression on his face as he had fallen apart in your arms. you couldn’t help but wonder how the others were really doing…what exactly have they been holding back for the sake of everyone else?

you couldn’t stand the thought of any of them suffering in silence, pretending to be fine when they were crumbling inside. you wanted to reach out to them, to ask them how they were really doing, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. they had all perfected the art of hiding their emotions, of masking their pain behind smiles and jokes.

you let out a heavy sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. the silence of your room was deafening, only interrupted by the occasional car passing by outside. your mind was still racing, refusing to let you rest.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on with the others — something they weren’t telling you. you knew they were all suffering in their own way, trying to hold themselves together for the sake of the group.

the weight of that focus was weighing heavily on you, knowing that everyone was pouring all their energy into trying to save wooyoung. and rightfully so - wooyoung was spiraling, his self-destructive habits threatening to consume him.

but in the process of focusing on him, you couldn’t help but wonder if the others were drowning too, silently struggling with their own pain.

the thought of the others suffering in silence broke your heart. you knew they were all trying to be strong for each other, to hold it together. but how long could they really keep it up? how long could they pretend to be okay when they were falling apart inside?

and how long would it be until it was you?

the question hung in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. you knew you couldn’t keep holding up your facade of being strong forever. eventually, it would all become too much, and you would collapse just like seonghwa had.

but the thought of breaking down terrified you. you were the one they all relied on, the one who kept things together when they started to fall apart. if you fell too, who would be there to catch everyone else? who would be the one that catches you?

you rolled over in your bed again, pulling the covers up to your chin like a makeshift shield. you tried to take deep breaths, to calm your racing thoughts. but it was hard when you knew everyone else’s happiness was resting on your shoulders. it was a heavy burden to carry, and one you weren’t sure how much longer you could bear.

you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of the shower starting, and you knew it was wooyoung. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in there, how he was feeling. was he okay? were his thoughts consuming him, or was he just cleaning himself off after a long day?

you were tempted to get up and go check on him, to make sure he was okay. but you didn’t want to intrude if he needed some time alone. so, you laid there, listening to the sound of the water running and wondering what was going on inside his head.

the sound of the shower was like a metronome, steady and rhythmic. it was almost hypnotizing, and you found your eyes drooping slightly as you focused on it. despite everything, exhaustion was finally starting to catch up to you.

you let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing into the bedding. maybe you could get some sleep after all. the steady sound of the shower combined with the exhaustion of emotional turmoil was finally starting to take its toll.

you sat next to wooyoung on the patio, watching as he took a drag from his cigarette. the sunlight had just started creeping over the horizon, bathing everything in a soft golden glow. but you weren’t focused on the sunrise - your gaze was fixed on wooyoung.

he was beautiful like this, bathed in the soft light of dawn. the morning sun highlighted the sharp angles of his face, and you found yourself unable to look away.

the soft silence between the two of you was comfortable, familiar. you knew each other so well by now, knew each other’s silences as much as each other’s words.

you watched as wooyoung’s exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. he looked pensive, his usual carefree facade replaced with a thoughtful expression.

you wanted to reach out to him, to ask what was on his mind. but you knew better than to push him. whenever he was like this, he needed time to sort through his thoughts, to let the words come to him in his own time.

the silence was broken only by the occasional sound of wooyoung exhaling smoke or taking another drag from his cigarette. you kept your gaze on him, studying the way his features looked in the golden light, the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his shoulders tensed with each inhale.

you knew him so well by now, knew all his little tics and mannerisms. there was something different about him this morning. he seemed more serious than usual, more troubled. you could see it in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his eyes were fixed on some distant point in the skyline.

watching as he finished the cigarette, he crushed it out in the ashtray sitting on the railing next to him. he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging a little as his facade of nonchalance slipped just a fraction.

you could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers curled around the rail as if trying to hold himself together. finally, wooyoung spoke. his voice was hoarse and rough with emotion. “i…i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the skyline.

you watched as he took a shaky breath, his knuckles white with how tightly he was gripping the railing. his eyes were still fixed on the horizon, as if he was afraid to look at you.

“i know i’m spiraling,” he continued, his voice low and rough. “i know i’m doing all the things i shouldn’t be doing, the things all of you have been telling me not to do. but i can’t stop. i don’t know how to stop.”

he let out a shaky exhale, the desperation in his voice tearing at your heart. you could see tears welling up in his eyes, “i can’t sleep,” he whispered, his voice choking up. “i can’t eat. i can’t concentrate on anything. all i can think about is how much i miss him…how much i blame myself.”

“and i hate it,” he continued, his voice ragged with emotion. “i hate feeling like this. i hate feeling so weak and helpless. but i don’t know how to make it stop. i don’t know how to make it stop hurting so much.”

you watched as a tear slipped down his cheek, his shoulders shaking slightly with emotion. “i just…i just want it to stop hurting,” he whispered, his voice shaky with emotion. “i just want to feel normal again. i want to be able to sleep without seeing his face when i close my eyes. i want to be able to eat without feeling like i’m going to be sick. i want to be able to concentrate on something other than the guilt that’s eating me alive.”

he scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing away the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks. you couldn’t hold back any longer. you reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he didn’t flinch or pull away; instead he leaned into your touch, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

his shoulders slumped as he leaned into you, all the tension and pretense finally melting away. he let out a ragged sigh, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions.

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. he buried his face in your shoulder, his arms encircling your waist.

his body was shaking, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. you could feel the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was being there for him, holding him together as he fell apart.

you held him there for what felt like hours, your arms encircling him, your fingers gently stroking his back.

“it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “just let it out. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. just let it all out.”

he continued to sob into your shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. but slowly, slowly, he began to calm down. his sobs turned into ragged breaths, his shaking gradually stilling until he was simply slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder.

your arms stayed wrapped around him, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. he sagged against you, his breath slowing and evening out. he didn’t speak, just held onto you like a child clutching a security blanket.

the sun continued to rise, the sky gradually turning a brighter shade of blue, but you barely even registered it. all you could focus on was the man in your arms. after what felt like an eternity, wooyoung finally stirred against you. he pulled back slightly, his head lifting from your shoulder. his eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were tear-streaked.

he cleared his throat, his voice rough and hoarse. “sorry,” he mumbled, wiping away the remnants of tears on his cheeks. “i didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that again.”

you reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “you don’t have to apologize,” you replied softly. “i’m here for you, no matter what. you don’t have to hold it all in and pretend to be okay around me.”

he let out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch as your fingers stroked gently through his hair. “i know,” he said quietly. “i just…i hate feeling like this. like i’m weak and pathetic.”

“you’re not weak,” you replied, your voice firm. “you’re human. you have feelings and emotions, and that doesn’t make you weak. it just makes you human.”

he was quiet for a moment, mulling over your words. then he let out a soft sigh, his body slumping as he leaned into you again. “i guess you’re right,”

“of course i’m right,” you replied with a small smile. “i’m always right.”

he let out a snort of laughter, the sound ragged but genuine. “yeah, yeah. don’t get too cocky now.”

part of you should have known that the glimpses of the old wooyoung were just that. glimpses. because as you walked past his bedroom in the middle of the night, the only light being the dimmed one from the kitchen, you could see that it didn’t matter how much he was going to let you in now — he was already too far gone

the sight that greeted you was familiar, but no less heartbreaking. wooyoung standing in the middle of of his room, swaying slightly on his feet. he was clearly drunk, a half-empty bottle of soju clutched in his hand.

he was staring off into space, his eyes glassy and unfocused. it was like he wasn’t really seeing anything, his mind lost in a haze of alcohol and whatever thoughts were swirling around in his head.

as you watched him, he stumbled slightly, leaning heavily against the wall. he raised the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig before letting out a ragged sigh. it was like he was on autopilot, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

you wanted to go to him, to pull the bottle from his hands and tell him that everything was going to be okay. but you knew it wouldn’t do any good. he was too far gone, too deep into his own self-destructive spiral.

instead, you just watched him in silence, your heart breaking as you saw him take another long swig from the bottle. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing what was going to happen but powerless to stop it.

he stumbled over to the bed, falling onto it with a heavy thud. he laid there for a moment, his chest heaving as he breathed in ragged gasps. then he let out a bitter laugh, raising the bottle in a mock toast before taking another long drink.

it was like he was mocking himself, his own situation. like he was laughing at the fact that he had let things get this bad. but there was no joy or humor in the laughter, just desperation and pain.

he laid there on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took ragged breaths. his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but you knew he wasn’t really seeing anything. his mind was lost in a haze of alcohol and thoughts, trapped in a downward spiral that he didn’t know how to escape from.

he let out a ragged exhale, his body going limp as the alcohol finally started to take hold. his eyes fell shut, his face relaxing as he slumped deeper into the bed. it was like he was finally giving in to the numbness of alcohol, letting it wash over him and drag him down into unconsciousness.

you step into the room, moving quietly so as not to disturb wooyoung. he’s passed out, his body sprawled haphazardly on the bed. you step over to him, gently prying the empty bottle from his grasp and setting it aside. as you do so, you take a moment to look at him.

his face is slack in unconsciousness, his breathing slow and steady. he looks so much younger like this, so young and innocent. it’s like all the pain and turmoil have been smoothed away for the moment, leaving him looking almost peaceful.

you reach for a nearby blanket and gently pull it over him, tucking him in as if he were a child. you watch for a moment as he snuggles deeper into the blankets, a small smile tugging at your lips.

it’s funny, you think. sometimes he can be so stubborn and bullheaded, so resistant to any help or support you try to give him. but in moments like this, he’s just a scared and lost little boy.

you stir awake, the morning light filtering in through the window. you turn over, expecting to find an empty space beside you. instead, you find wooyoung there, curled up facing away from you.

you blink in surprise, for a moment not quite believing what you’re seeing. when did he get here? you don’t remember him coming in during the night, and you definitely didn’t wake up and feel him climb into bed.

you look at him for a moment as he sleeps peacefully, his body curved into a tight ball. he looks so different asleep, so peaceful and vulnerable. it’s like all the bravado and bluster he usually has is gone, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that is almost endearing.

as you watch him sleep, you can’t help but wonder what brought him to your bed. was it simply him seeking comfort in his sleep?

you reach out hesitantly, your hand hovering over his shoulder for a moment before gently resting on it. you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

he stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake up. he just shifts slightly, nuzzling deeper into the blankets as if seeking out your touch even in his sleep.

wooyoung shifts his body, turning over to face you. he let out a sleepy murmur as he scooted closer to you, his body pressed up against yours. you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, his face mere inches from yours. he was so close that you could see the flutter of his eyelashes as he slept, the relaxed expression on his face.

he shifted again, his arm coming up to rest on your waist. he pulled himself closer, his body spooning against yours. it was an almost unconscious movement. you could feel his breath against your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. he was so close that you could feel the brush of his hair against your skin, soft and silken.

you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo, a soft, woodsy fragrance that mixed with his natural scent. it was a comforting smell, familiar and soothing.

and once again, he shifted, his leg coming to rest against yours. his body was completely pressed against yours now, every inch of him in contact with you. it was like he was trying to fit himself completely against you, seeking out every bit of contact possible.

you could feel the weight of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his chest against your back. his breath continued to ghost over your neck, the steady rise and fall of his breaths sending a shiver down your spine. he made a soft noise again, a sigh of contentment that was somewhere between a murmur and a hum. he seemed completely at peace, his body relaxed and boneless against yours. it was like he had melted into you, fitting against you like he belonged there.

you were torn between waking him up and letting him sleep a little longer. on one hand, it was kind of adorable seeing him sleep so peacefully and soundly. on the other hand, you knew he needed to wake up eventually.

you watched him for a moment, taking in the sight of him curled up against you. his face was relaxed, his expression peaceful. it was like all the stress and worry that usually etched itself on his features had melted away.

part of you wanted to just lay there and watch him sleep indefinitely, but you knew that wasn't practical. you reached out a tentative hand and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face. he stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.

you watched as he mumbled something incoherent, his arm tightening around your waist. it was like he was trying to hold onto you even in his half-conscious state, unwilling to let go just yet.

he let out a murmur against your neck, his voice sleep-rough and soft. "just... a little longer," he mumbled. "just a few more minutes... please..."

he tugged at you slightly, pulling you closer against him. his body was still relaxed, his muscles loose and pliant against yours.

wooyoung’s voice was soft, almost vulnerable as he muttered against your neck. "i just... want to pretend a little longer," he mumbled. "just for a little while, let me pretend like everything is okay..."

he pulled you tighter against him, his body pressing close against yours like he was trying to bury himself in you. his grip was tight, like he was afraid you would pull away and break the illusion.

wooyoung’s voice was hushed and raw as he whispered against your skin, his breath hot against your neck. "like i didn't... f-fuck everything up, you know...?"

he let out a choked gasp, his arm tightening around you like he was trying to anchor himself. he was clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check, his body tense and trembling against yours.

his voice was rough and ragged, like he was holding back tears. "i just... i just don't want to think about it for a little while," he mumbled, his body pressing closer against yours. "just... please, let me pretend for a minute. let me pretend like i didn't ruin everything."

you didn't know what possessed you to do it. maybe it was the vulnerability in his voice, or the desperation in his grip on you. but before you even realized what you were doing, you were cupping his face gently in your hands and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

his breath hitched as your lips met his, his body going rigid for a moment before melting into the touch. it was like he was starving for the contact, like he was desperate for any scrap of affection and closeness he could get.

his mouth opened slightly under yours, his tongue brushing against your lips in a silent plea for more. he was shaking now, his body trembling against you like he was barely holding himself together.

he was clinging to you now, his fingers gripping your shirt desperately as he pulled you closer. his lips were moving against yours hungrily, like he was trying to devour you. it was like he was pouring all his pain and desperation into the kiss, seeking solace and comfort in the only way he knew how.

his body was pressed against yours, every inch of him in contact with you. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the desperate way his hands roamed over your body like he was trying to memorize every contour and curve.

as wooyoung breaks away from the kiss, his mouth trailing down your jaw to your neck, he mumbles between kisses, "is... is this okay? are we... are we okay...?"

his lips are hot against your skin, his breath hitching as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your neck. his hands are still holding onto you tightly, his grip almost desperate as he seeks reassurance and connection.

he continues to trail kisses down your neck, his mouth hot and possessive against your skin. every kiss is filled with a hint of desperation, like he's trying to make up for lost time and assure himself that everything is alright.

his hands roam over your body as he kisses your neck, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as he mouths at your neck. you thread your fingers through the silky strands, relishing the feel of his soft hair against your skin.

"we’re okay," you murmur, your voice soft and reassuring. "it’s okay. we’re okay."

he lets out a choked moan against your skin, his body trembling at your words.

wooyoung’s voice is barely above a whisper as he buries his face in your neck, his lips pressed against your skin in desperate kisses.

"i just... i just want to pretend for today," he mumbles, his voice almost pleading. "just for today, let me pretend like everything is fine. let me pretend like i didn't screw everything up. just... just please, let me live in this fantasy for a little while longer."

he’s holding onto you tightly, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go even for a moment. his body is pressed flush against yours, every inch of him in contact with you.

"please," he whispers. "please, just let me forget about everything else and just focus on you."

wooyoung pulls away from your neck, lifting his head to look at you. his expression is earnest and vulnerable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"if you don't want this," he whispers, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over your skin, "i won't be mad, okay? i promise."

you voice your concern, your gaze searching his face as you ask, "are you sure you're in the right mind to do this?"

he looks at you for a moment, his eyes intense and sincere. then he replies, "this is the only thing i’ve been sure about recently. you’re the only thing i’m sure about."

he continues to look at you, his eyes pleading and earnest. "i know i’m not making any sense right now," he whispers. "i know i’m not in the best headspace... but the only thing i am sure about is you. you’re the only thing that makes everything else fade away."

he grips your shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you even closer to him.

despite your reservations, your doubts and concerns, it's impossible to ignore the way your body responds to his touch. your pulse quickens, your skin heats up, your breath quickens.

but you know wooyoung well enough to know that he's not in his right mind right now. he’s vulnerable, desperate, seeking comfort and reassurance. and you know that you can't just give in to your own desires without making sure that he's absolutely certain about what he's doing. especially when your heart is also involved.

"i... i want you too," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

you reach up to cup his face in your hands, your fingers gently tracing his jawline. "i want you so badly," you murmur. "but i just... i need to make sure you're sure. i don't want you to regret it later."

you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles are coiled tight like he's holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he has left.

wooyoung’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as he melts into your touch, his breathing ragged and uneven. "i won't regret it," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "i could never regret it. not with you."

he leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. he looks desperate, almost pleading. "please," he murmurs. "please, just... i need you. i need you more than anything right now."

his body is pressing flush against yours, every inch of him in contact with you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, can hear the raggedness of his breathing, can smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"i can't pretend anymore," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "i don't want to pretend. I want this to be real. i want... i want you to be real. please. please just tell me this is real. that i’m not just imagining this."

his hands are grasping at you now, desperate and clawing, trying to hold onto you like you're the only thing grounding him to reality.

"please," he repeats, his voice ragged and hoarse. "please, tell me this is real. that you're really here, with me. that you really care about me. that you really... that you really..."

he seems unable to finish his sentence, his voice breaking on the last word.

"wooyoung..." you murmur, your voice soft and gentle. "this is real. i’m real. i’m here. i love you."

and with that, you lean in and press your lips against his in a slow, tender kiss.

his response is immediate, like a dam has broken inside of him. his hands come up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you back with a desperate fervor.

he kisses you like a man starved, like he's trying to devour you, his mouth bruising against yours as his tongue tangles with yours. his body is pressed tightly against yours, every inch of him desperate to be as close to you as possible.

he murmurs your name against your lips, like a prayer, like a desperate plea. "please," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "please, say it again. say it again."

he needs to hear the words again, like they're the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. he needs to hear you say that you love him, that this is real, that he's not just imagining everything.

you repeat the words, your voice soft and tender. "i love you," you murmur against his lips, your fingers tracing gentle patterns over his skin. "i’m here and i love you."

and his response is to groan, his body shuddering against yours as if the words are physically painful to hear. he kisses you again, harder and more desperately than before, his body arching into yours like he can't get close enough.

his hands are restless, roaming over your body with a feverish intensity. he pulls you closer, his body pressed so close against yours that you can feel the rapid beating of his heart.

"i love you," he whispers, his voice thick and ragged. "i love you so much. please, don't go. please, just... just don't leave me."

he sounds like he's begging, like he's on the verge of tears. he buries his face in your neck, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

"please," he whispers again, “stay with me. i don't want to be alone.”

you tighten your arms around him, your body pressing even closer against his. you speak softly, your voice gentle and reassuring.

"i’m not going anywhere," you murmur, your fingers carding through his hair. "i’m right here. i’m not leaving you."

his body visibly relaxes at your words, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. he lets out a shuddering sigh, his shoulders slumping as he buries his face in your neck once again.

he mumbles the words against your skin, "can... can i be selfish with you?" he whispers. "can i... can i just be selfish one more time? just... just tonight?"

you nod, your body still pressed tight against his as you murmur, "yes. it’s okay. we can be selfish. just... just for tonight."

he lets out a low, guttural groan at your words, his body shuddering against yours.

your mind swirled. was this really happening? were you really about to take this leap? his body pressed closer to you, the heat and firmness of him enveloping you as he gently held your face in his hands and brought your gaze to meet his. then, he drew you into another kiss, the soft, warm press of his lips against yours igniting sparks within you.

previous . . masterlist . . next

taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone @devastateed @fantasy2wonderland @fixedonlove @kyeomooniee @e3ellie

#. . ᯓ . lover please stay ✦༉‧#ateez fic #jung wooyoung fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #jung wooyoung writing #jung wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung ateez #ateez jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung

41 notes · View notes

cxlamarisalxmi · 7 months

Text

Because of course a privileged, white man living in America would be so ignorant and detached. Of course you can be as Islamophobic and Zionistic as you want because you aren’t going to suffer the repercussions and consequences for it. Especially in a country that would fund the genocide of indigenous people.

Noah Schnapp is so out of touch that it’s extremely pathetic and so embarrassing.

#freepalastine🇵🇸#noah schnapp #he’s a fucking idiot #and it’s so frustrating that he won’t be held accountable for this #nations are waking up and people WILL remember #everyone will remember your take on this conflict #so fuck you kid

79 notes · View notes

will-o-the-witch · 2 months

Text

Things I’ve learned about love from working for a divorce attorney

Divorce happens to everyone, there's not a "type." Even smart, well-adjusted people choose bad partners, encounter deal-breakers after you're already married, or simply change over time to where you're no longer compatible.

You can come into your own at any time, and learn to finally stick up for yourself at any age.

There’s no time window for divorce where if you stick together long enough you’ve "made it." Some people get divorced after a year and a half, others after 25 or more. Love will always take work.

People often come in ready to sacrifice everything just to get the process over with, then realize they're entitled to way more than they thought. Don't undervalue your worth just to make things easier. You're entitled to fairness.

I don't care how much you say money doesn't matter in your relationship, yes it does. Keeping your finances separate solves a LOT of conflict. Money is the #1 thing people fight over in the divorce process besides maybe the kids.

Speaking of kids, out of mountains of cases, not once has any parent even suggested the divorce was the kid’s fault.

Life really does go on after a breakup, even a major one. Everyone that comes into our office is a full and complete person just going through a rough time. I think that's important to remember.

#rabbit blabs

6K notes · View notes

yuujispinkhair · 5 months

Text

Good Boy

Sukuna is a powerful man. Everybody knows him as the successful and arrogant CEO of the SHRINE company. But they don't know that at home, in the bedroom, he is a very different man. Only you know what Sukuna truly needs to be able to function in his stressful job.

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, BDSM elements, sub+dom dynamic, reader is a soft dom, restraining, collaring, impact play (flogging with a leather paddle), dirty talk, spitting in Sukuna's mouth, praise, edging, Sukuna cums untouched on command, pegging (Sukuna receiving). This is a modern + no-curses AU. Sukuna is a CEO and married to Reader. All things happen with mutual consent. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Dividers by @/benkeibear

Sukuna is a powerful man. Successful and feared by many. A big player in the business world. He makes it look easy, makes it look like he can do all of that effortlessly. He keeps up a high pace, coming to work before everyone else and only leaving after the sun has set. Attending business events and giving interviews for magazines while always wearing a smug smirk on his handsome face. Always hiding his true self behind a mask of professionalism and arrogance.

No one is allowed to see behind that mask. With one exception. There is one person who knows how stressed Sukuna truly is. How tired he is. Only one person knows the toll his work takes on him. Only you. Only his wife.

You are the only one who knows that sometimes the powerful CEO needs a break from everything. Only you know that sometimes this big, strong, and powerful man wants to be on his knees for you, bound and collared, needing to hear you call him your good boy before he is able to cum.

Sukuna hadn't known this side of himself for a long time. Maybe it was because he wasn't mature enough in his younger years. Maybe it was because his past relationships never offered him the amount of trust and love that the relationship with you gives him.

But Sukuna still remembers the day that changed everything. The day that made him discover something about himself and about his deepest needs.

He only wanted to take a short trip to your favorite lingerie boutique to buy a little something for you for White Day. A new set of sinfully expensive lingerie that you could wear for him.

It had been a stressful day at work, a meeting with the CEO of a rival company that had left Sukuna pissed off and on the edge. He hoped to find distraction in picking sexy underwear for his beloved wife, picturing you in it, easing his mind with thoughts of fucking you while you wore that pretty red lacey set with the little heart dangling from it.

But things didn't go as Sukuna had planned. His gaze strayed away from the luxurious red lace lingerie and landed on a display of collars. And all of a sudden Sukuna felt conflicted. So damn conflicted.

At that moment, he couldn't tell why the sight of those collars made him feel so strange. He drew his gaze away again and strolled to another corner of the boutique to look at more beautiful lingerie sets. But he couldn't focus. His thoughts stayed occupied with those leather collars. And suddenly, he found that his feet had carried him back to that one display.

He walked past it several times until he sighed and finally stopped in front of it, took one collar out of the shelf, and let it glide through his fingers. The black leather felt nice in his hand, smooth and warm. He tried to picture it on you, but to his utter surprise, he realized that it wasn't you who he wanted to put it on.

Oh. That is interesting.

He gulped.

His large hand trembled slightly when he brought the collar up a bit. He held it in front of his throat, feeling his pulse accelerate at seeing his faint reflection in the glass display.

What if...

He ground his teeth in annoyance when the shop assistant interrupted his moment by walking up to him.

"I see you are also interested in our Playtime Collection, sir. All collars and restraints are of the highest quality, of course. They offer high comfort and long usage. Do you want to pick one for your wife to go with the lingerie? I would recommend a thinner one in that case, more delicate, and maybe in a matching red? We also have some collars with a diamond charm. That collection is very popular for White Day. Should I get it for you?"

Sukuna stood there in silence for several seconds, too stunned to say anything. A rare moment for the CEO of the SHRINE Company. But he was a professional, after all, and so he turned around to smile politely at the shop assistant, his usual mask perfectly in place, as he informed her,

"No, thank you. This one is perfect. Put it in a separate gift box, please."

He left the shop feeling light-headed, and the bag sitting on the passenger seat of his Porsche seemed to emit a seductive lure the whole drive home, making adrenaline pump through Sukuna's veins.

What if she puts that collar on me?

The thought excited him and made him feel ashamed at the same time.

Never had he imagined he would be into this. Wasn't it embarrassing that a man like him even contemplated something like this?

But underneath that shame was something else. Something he craved: Comfort.

He knew what a collar like that meant. I wasn't just a pretty little accessory. It meant giving yourself to someone. It meant a sub giving themselves into their dom's hands fully. And that was a thought that made him grip the steering wheel tighter.

Wouldn't it be lovely? Wouldn't it be exactly what he needed after a hard day like this? Coming home and letting you put a collar on him? Giving himself into your loving hands? Handing control over to you. He loved you with his whole heart and soul. He trusted you like he never thought he could trust someone apart from himself.

Wouldn't it be so comforting to let you collar him and dominate him completely? Wouldn't it be such a relief to let himself fall into you? To hand control over to someone else, at least for a few hours, in the safety of his home?

The thought made a low groan slip from Sukuna's mouth.

He hid the small gift box in the walk-in closet. It sat there next to his designer watches and golden cufflinks, waiting for him to finally propose the idea to you.

When he did, after an exquisite dinner a few days later, you had smiled at him, slipped on his lap, and petted his hair, eyes filled with love and understanding.

"You want me to collar you? You want to be my... submissive?"

"Yes, that's what I want, darling. Only if you are comfortable with the idea."

"Of course I am. It will help you with all the pressure at work. It will help you let go. You know I am always worried about you with all the high stress levels you have day in and day out. I'm glad you came to me with this idea, Sukuna."

He released a breath of relief and tightened his arms around you. Of course, you understood. You always knew exactly what he needed.

Sukuna laughed softly. How funny it was. Here he was, this tall, buff man with a body full of solid muscles and intimidating-looking tattoos, someone who was feared in the whole business world, while you were so soft and small compared to him. But he knew you would catch him. He knew you would be strong, so he could be weak. He knew he wanted to be on his knees for you.

You did research starting that night. You discussed everything with him, set boundaries, and outlined how you both expected this dynamic to work. You went shopping with him the next day, getting everything you needed. You started slowly and tried things, experimenting to see what you both liked and to find out what exactly Sukuna needed.

That was a year ago. Sukuna has been collared for eleven months now, and he has never felt more liberated in his life. The collar grounds him. The collar takes the pressure off.

Sometimes, when he has an extremely stressful day in the office, he takes five minutes off to close his eyes and imagine coming home and getting on his knees for you. Just the thought of you putting his collar on him tonight helps him get through his busy workday. Just the thought of being allowed to get into subspace tonight makes him get through another meeting.

When you are in public, your roles are reversed in everyone else's eyes. Sukuna is the powerful CEO. The big, muscular hunk of a man in his designer suit who is in control at all times. The one with the smug smirk and the snide remarks. The one who effortlessly navigates through this business party and holds an immaculate speech before mingling with the crowd, where he charms new potential business partners into making a deal with him. And you are the sweet little wife on his arm who looks up at him and depends on her rich and dominant husband to take care of her.

They don't know the truth.

They don't know that you told Sukuna before the party that if he is a good boy tonight and manages to get that potential new business partner on his side, you will let him worship your pussy when you are home again.

Sukuna never expected how easy it would be, how natural it would feel to hand over control to you and let himself slip into subspace. How splendid it would feel to give himself fully to you.

He sighs when you bind his wrists with his tie, fixing them behind his back. He feels warm when you tell him to kneel for you. He is excited by the way you look at him when he is on the floor on his knees for you, with his muscular thighs spread, completely naked while you are still dressed. He loves to feel your gaze on his body, on his muscles, on his tattoos. He loves to see the love in your eyes.

Sukuna groans when your gaze lands on his cock, taking your time to look at him. It's so arousingly intimate. You have seen him naked so many times, have seen and touched his cock so often. But it is different when he is bound and kneeling before you. It makes him so hard that he feels dizzy. Pre-cum is running thickly down his hard length as your gaze inspects his cock and his taut full balls.

He moans when you get up from the bed and stand beside him, putting a hand in his pink hair and tugging on it gently, pulling his head against your hip, petting his hair, and cooing at him,

"My pretty boy."

Sukuna can't help but let out a sigh of relief and nuzzle his face gratefully against your hip. He feels exhilarated when you grab his hair and tug on it, smiling while you look at him and tell him,

"Open your mouth for me, my love."

He does so eagerly, opening up and sticking his tongue out while gazing up at you through his long black lashes. He is well-trained and proud of it. Sukuna has always been a fast learner, driven by his ambitious nature. A man used to working for his well-deserved success. Always striving to be the best. Of course, he had excelled in this task, too. In becoming the perfect submissive pet for you.

He can see the approval and adoration in your eyes, and it makes his heart feel so full. Especially when you praise him for his obedience.

"Such a good boy."

Your fingers caress his hair, making him moan lightly when your nails scratch over his undercut, but his mouth stays open, his tongue still sticking out, eyes fixed on your face, waiting for your command or for whatever you have planned for him tonight. Finally, he doesn't have to make decisions anymore. Finally, he can rest and give himself into your loving hands.

You slowly part your lips, which are painted with the beautiful, deep red lipstick he loves so much on you. His lashes flutter in anticipation. Your hand grabs his chin, gently tilting his head further upwards, and then you spit in his waiting mouth, letting your spit drool into his mouth slowly, showing him that from now on, you are the one in control.

"Now swallow it."

He does so, and your hand caresses his cheek lovingly.

"You are so good for me, Sukuna. You truly deserve your collar, baby."

His cock twitches needily when you put it on him, and he feels the smooth leather wrap around his throat. Your fingertips caress his neck lovingly for a moment before you pull away to let your hands slip under your skirt. Sukuna watches with a lust-filled gaze as you pull down your panties, the lacey red ones he gifted to you. You let them fall to the floor as you sit down on the bed, spreading your legs, letting Sukuna see your glistening wet cunt underneath your short skirt.

"You were such a good boy tonight at the party. It's time for your reward."

Sukuna moans softly when you fasten the leash on the golden ring on his collar and give it a firm tug, pulling him closer until he is kneeling between your spread legs.

Your pussy is right in front of his face, hot and dripping wet. So beautiful, so enticing. He can feel your warmth, can smell your sweet scent. He wants to push his face between your legs so badly. But he waits obediently like the good boy he wants to be. He waits for your command.

"Spoil my pussy, pretty boy. Make me cum on that pretty face of yours."

And Sukuna is happy to obey. He eats you out devotedly. He worships your pussy. Licks it, kisses it, sniffs it, loves it with tender kisses and sweet suckles on your swollen clit, and fucks it with his tongue until you gasp his name and cum on his face.

You reach down afterward to tease his cock. Edging him, running a teasing fingertip over his swollen mushroom head and pressing it against his slit. Giving him a few slow pumps only to pull away again. Circling his tip lovingly, swooping up a pearl of pre-cum, and bringing your finger to your lips to taste him, moaning and praising him for how sweet he tastes.

You coo praise at him for being so strong, for being so good for you, for holding back so long. Sukuna's head is spinning. He is drowning in the warmth of your love, in the sweet comfort of your control over him. His cock throbs heavily, so close to busting his load. But your voice drifts to his ears,

"Uh uh, not yet, my love. Not yet. Take your time, baby. You've been working so hard those last few days. I need you to let go fully before you are allowed to cum. Free yourself from everything. Let go of work and your busy schedule. You aren't the CEO of SHRINE here in this room. You are my pet. You are my good boy. I own you, and I decide everything for you. You don't have to think anymore, Sukuna. I will tell you when to cum. Give yourself to me."

And he nods, breathing heavily as his cock throbs with pleasure and need. It would be easy for a strong man like Sukuna to slip out of his restraints and manhandle you, throw you on the bed, and fuck you into the mattress until he is satisfied. That knowledge somehow makes this whole scenario even more arousing. Because he knows he won't give in to these urges. He will be a good boy. He will be strong. He will hold back as long as you want him to. He isn't the one who decides things here. He is yours completely.

You smile at him, and your gaze travels over his body again until it stops on his hard cock.

"Look at that gorgeous cock of yours. So long, so thick, so strong. And all mine."

When you join him on the floor, Sukuna is already a mess, sweating and moaning, cock twitching needily, his balls sticky from all the pre-cum that ran down his length.

You get on your knees and put your small hands on his muscular thighs, caressing them tenderly as you slowly lean closer to blow air onto Sukuna's swollen wet cockhead, making him groan loudly.

"Aww, so cute for me, hm my prince? Can you be my good boy and cum on command? Can you cum just from me looking at your pretty cock?"

Your words make a low growl fall from Sukuna's lips as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. He gulps and looks at you, maroon eyes burning into yours as he nods,

"Yes, please let me show you how good I can be for you."

You smile and moan softly, your eyes clouded over by lust, and it makes Sukuna's stomach flutter and his heart throb. More pre-cum is trickling down his hot length and runs over his taut balls before it drips onto the carpet underneath him. And your eyes are on his cock and his balls, following that small rivulet of pre.

Your voice is a tender caress,

"Such a sweet boy for me."

Sukuna's muscles are taut, biceps flexed, wrists straining against the tie, pecs, and abs taut, his thighs clenched. Your words drive him crazy. And the feeling of your eyes on him, on his cock, makes his head spin.

There is something so demeaning about kneeling here on the floor, bound and horny, being told to cum on command, being told to cum untouched like some pathetic little virgin who never fucked his load into a woman.

But oh, how he loves it. How it gives him peace. How it turns him on. Sukuna can't help but roll his hips as if fucking into your tight cunt, rutting his cock against nothing, as a shaky moan falls from his lips.

Your hand cups his cheek and caresses it lovingly before it wanders down over his flexed pecs and biceps.

"You are so beautiful. Look at that pretty cock. Look how much you're leaking all over yourself."

His gaze travels down to his cock, and he groans loudly, seeing his angry dark pink, swollen cockhead, messy from all the precum. He feels and sees his cock twitch at the attention, so aroused that you are looking at him. And he feels his balls tightening, feels his thighs spread even more, and he knows he is close, so fucking close.

It's your voice that sends him over the edge,

"Now show me, baby. Show me how that pretty cock cums for me. Make a big mess all over yourself, Kuna. Cum for me. Now."

White hot lights fill his vision as he feels himself cum, cock twitching and shooting his hot cum all over himself in messy white ropes.

The sounds coming out of his mouth are sounds Sukuna would never let anyone else hear. Desperate whimpers and needy mewls, a shaky sob when his cock throbs and shoots another spurt of hot cum all over the carpet and his thighs.

You talk him through it, coo at him, praise him for being such a good boy, telling him how pretty he looks and how pretty his cock is when it shoots cum everywhere. How cute he is when he makes such a mess for you.

And Sukuna's head is spinning. He shoots his whole orgasm all over himself until his spent cock just twitches, but no cum comes out anymore.

He still moans when you make him clean it up, swooping up his cum from his abs and chest and feeding it to him from your fingers. And more moans fall from Sukuna's lips when you tug on his leash to make him lean down and lick his milky cum off the floor. He does so obediently, and when you tell him to open his mouth and stick his tongue out to show you that he really was a good boy and swallowed it all, he can't help but smile proudly.

He is happy, so happy when you praise him and when you take the tie of his wrists and hug him lovingly, praising him for being so good for you.

He feels pride surge through him, filling his every pore. Sukuna is a proud man through and through in all aspects of his life. Confident and self-assured, even arrogant most of the time. But nothing fills him with so much pride as this. Cumming untouched at your command.

This is his biggest accomplishment today. Not that he succeeded in snatching a lucrative business deal from the white-haired Gojo brat. Not that he poached one of the Zenin Group's most important partners. No, his biggest accomplishment today was that he was a good boy for you. The thing Sukuna is the most proud of is cumming exactly how you told him to.

He smiles proudly as he looks up at you. You smile back at him and run a hand through his hair, cocking your head and asking in a voice full of love,

"What do good boys say?"

And Sukuna's smile grows even bigger, and he says loud and clear in his smooth, velvety voice,

"Thank you."

His heart feels so full when you nod, and your eyes fill with pride. You pet him and lean down to kiss him on the lips. Lovingly and tender, showering him with affection.

Sukuna thinks no one in his small circle of people he considers his friends truly knows him. Not even Uraume, who has been his assistant for many years.

No one but you.

You know him. You know what he needs. You know what he needs on the days he comes home with a victorious glint in his eyes. You know what he needs when he comes home tired and stressed. And you also know what he needs when he comes home in a grumpy mood, complaining about work and all the incompetent fools he has to deal with all day.

"What's with that attitude, Sukuna? I think I have to put you in your place again."

Yes, you know exactly what he needs. He told you he wants you to be rougher with him whenever he is in one of those foul moods. That he wants you to rein him in on those days. Because you are the only person who can do that.

Your words instantly shut him up, and he feels himself already slipping into his submissive role as he smirks at you across the table and tells you in his low, velvety voice,

"I would be delighted if you showed me my place, my love."

Soon, his smirk is replaced by soft groans as Sukuna writhes on the bed.

Finally, he is free. He doesn't have to think but can only feel. He can let himself fall into this delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and you catch him with your love.

He is used to being in control. He is used to being a powerful man in his everyday work life. He is used to being a King, so to speak. But not here, not in your bedroom during a scene. Here you reign. Here you are, his Queen, and he is the obedient prince. A beloved, pretty pet.

You trail the leather paddle slowly over his skin. Just a teasing touch, a light caress, tracing his firm muscles while you admire his tall, muscular body spread out for you. Sukuna is breathing heavily, arousal and excited anticipation filling his veins. His cock is rock hard, trapped under his heavy body, pressing against the silky sensation of the bedsheets. Every inch of his skin is highly sensitive right now.

He knows the sweet pain will come any moment now. It makes him heady with lust. You have reached the top of his back, slowly trailing the paddle over his neck and the stubble of his undercut before you pull it away.

A loud, needy groan falls from Sukuna's lips at the same time that the loud slapping sound of the leather paddle connecting firmly with his ass cheeks fills the room.

Finally, he is falling. Finally, he is slipping into the sweet, delirious comfort of subspace. Bound to the bed, spread out for you, this tall, muscular man so utterly at your mercy. It is everything Sukuna needs.

Another firm slap lands on his ass, and Sukuna moans into the pillow. It's a feral sound, low and primal. He promised you to not hold back during your scenes, and he found that it's freeing to let it all out and be loud in bed and let you hear his unrestrained lust.

And your praise makes it even better. A soft hand lands on his firm ass cheek where you just spanked him a moment ago. Such a tender, soothing touch in stark contrast to the hard slap and the sting of the paddle. You caress his ass tenderly while you whisper to him,

"You are my good boy, Kuna. Doing so well for me. Are you ready for the next round? I'll do five this time. Do you think you can take it, baby?"

He nods,

"Yes, please. I'm ready. Please give me more."

It was never as easy and natural for him to beg as here in your bed.

Sukuna takes the spanking like the good boy that he is. He moans and growls and begs for more. And you spank him to an orgasm that makes him almost black out. With his buff muscles tensing up, his toned arms pulling at the restraints as his strong body shakes and trembles, his cock twitching beneath him, soaking the bed sheets with his hot cum, while he sobs into the pillow, a mix of your name and breathless thank yous.

You give him time before you untie him and tell him to turn on his back, joining him on the bed to spoil his cock with slow, thorough strokes until he is hard again and moaning and twitching. You finally straddle his lap and sink down on his throbbing length, riding him until you scream his name and cum on him with your warm cream gushing over him, pushing Sukuna over the edge, too, letting him fill your sweet cunt with his cum as a reward for being so good for you.

It's the end of a particularly stressful week, and Sukuna finds himself unable to relax. The book he wanted to read lies forgotten on the leather couch. He couldn't focus on the words. The hot bath he took didn't help him relax his tense muscles.

But then he hears the sound of the elevator followed by your footsteps as you walk into the penthouse, and he feels his skin tingle.

He is by your side only seconds later, wrapping his arms around you from behind, greeting you with a loving kiss on the neck and a murmured,

"I missed you, darling."

He has been looking forward to this Saturday evening. Has been craving it, knowing what he will get tonight because he worked so hard this week.

"Is my sweet prince ready to get all the stress fucked out of him?"

It's the ultimate level of submission in Sukuna's eyes. And the ultimate comfort.

Yes, Sukuna can be sweet. Yes, he can be submissive. Yes, he can be a good boy. And he proves it to you right there on the bed in a position that is so vulnerable but so freeing.

His face is resting on the dark red silk pillow, his thick muscular thighs are spread, exposing himself to you fully.

His cock is swollen, throbbing hard, pre-cum oozing needily out of his slit and running down his veiny length and into the silk sheets. His balls almost ache from how taut they are. Anytime you are about to peg him, he is so hard that he thinks he will faint.

But the feeling of the leather collar around his neck grounds him and gives him reassurance.

Sukuna groans softly when your hands trail slowly over his muscular back, caressing him, massaging his tense muscles, your voice so sweet and soothing while your lips trail kisses down his back,

"You are doing so well for me, baby. So beautiful."

Your praise makes his cock twitch, and a low groan spills from his lips. You finger him open, taking your sweet time with him, lubing his tight hole up thoroughly, gradually adding more fingers, and leaving gentle kisses on his back. Cooing at him when your fingertips rub against his prostate and needy moans fall from Sukuna's lips.

You pull away, but only to straddle the back of his thighs, leaning down over him to tease him with the slicked-up tip of the strap you are wearing. Rubbing lightly against Sukuna's lubed-up hole, driving him crazy, making him moan and whimper, sounds that he usually would never make. Your warm breath caresses his neck, and your lips brush tenderly over his skin,

"Are you ready for me, baby? Can my prince take my cock?"

His hole clenches at your words, his hips buck.

"Yes, please fuck me."

Sukuna almost can't take it anymore, head spinning from lust, sobs escaping his lips as he forces himself to hold back and not take but only receive as you keep teasing his lubed-up entrance with the tip of your strap, slowly stretching him open around the thick tip.

He gasps loudly when you push the dildo into him fully, his ass twitching around it, even as Sukuna's gasp turns into a hoarse groan.

"So cute. Such a good boy for me."

You sound breathless too, and a moment later, you roll your hips into him, beginning with a slow but deep pace, fucking Sukuna with deep strokes that make both of you moan.

Soon, the pace becomes faster and harder, the tip of the dildo hitting Sukuna's sensitive prostate unrelentingly, making him see stars.

A wild, loud moan falls from his lips, uncontrolled, desperate, full of lust and pain and raw need.

He needs this today. This was a stressful week. He needs to get fucked rough. Needs to get dicked down hard. Needs to get wrecked.

And you give him everything he needs. You fuck him with punishing hard thrusts, torturing his prostate with your thick strap, making Sukuna's body tremble beneath you, making him sob and whine into the pillow, the pillowcase wet from his spit and even some tears.

Instinctively, he begins to rut against the mattress, grinding his leaking cock needily against it. But a firm slap lands on his right ass cheek.

"Stop that. Good boys don't need their cocks rubbed. And you are a good boy, Sukuna, aren't you? You are my very, very good boy, right baby? A good boy like you cums just from my strap, right?"

He nods wildly, sobbing as he answers you, his voice almost unrecognizable, higher than usual, full of tears and raw need,

"Y.. yes! Yes, I am your good boy! Please, please...let me cum on your cock! I won't disobey!"

You moan softly at his plea. Your warm hands run up his muscular back, caressing him, every touch making his cock throb. And you go slow, so slow, pulling the dildo out of him almost completely, making Sukuna whine loudly. But he instantly shuts up when you tug on his leash. He grits his teeth and forces himself to stay still, giving himself to you, waiting for you patiently.

Anything to be a good boy for you. Not demanding anything, not taking anything. That isn't his place, and he knows it. He is here to receive. To give himself to you completely. He forces himself to calm his breathing, relaxing his flexed muscles, and you reward him with a whispered,

"Aww, yes, just like that, baby. So good for me. I trained you so well, hm? Now take it, baby."

And you roll your hips into him, pushing the thick dildo back all the way into Sukuna's tight ass, making him moan, loud and broken, as his strong body shudders under you.

You laugh softly and grind your hips against him, rotating them slowly, rubbing the dildo against his prostate, sending shock wave after shock wave of bliss through him. And Sukuna cries out, unable to hold back. But no words are leaving his lips. At this point, he is unable to form them, only loud, unintelligible, needy cries and whiny moans.

He knows he won't last long now, can already feel the familiar tightening in his heavy balls, can feel the pressure inside him build almost unbearably. His muscles flex again, and you moan his name, full of love, followed by the command he needed to hear so badly,

"Aww, yes, Kuna. You're so good for me. You can cum on my cock now, baby."

And he does. Crying out loudly, a wet, unrestrained, desperate sound full of tears of bliss. His ass clenches hard around your strap, his strong body shuddering from wave after wave of a world-shattering prostate orgasm ripping through him. His cock pulses copious amounts of hot sticky seed onto the already stained sheets. Testament to the bliss he found here.

You lean down to kiss his neck gently, trailing tender kisses all over his broad back, fucking him slowly through his orgasm, moaning when you cum on the strap, too, just a few seconds later.

Sukuna closes his eyes and feels some hot tears slip out of the corners of his eyes as you snuggle against him, resting on his broad back, the dildo still buried deeply inside him, and you caress him, cuddle him, and whisper sweet praise to him, telling him how much you love him. And he knows he is in heaven here with you. No matter how stressful his life as a CEO is, he can endure it because he can come home to you and let you take care of him.

To everyone else, Sukuna is the feared alpha male. But to you, he is your good boy, and that's a fact that can get him through any workday.

He will continue to expand his business empire. He will acquire new business partners. He will go to countless meetings and negotiate contract after contract. Sukuna will work hard to make his company the best in the whole country.

But only if he knows he can be on his knees for you every night with the leather collar around his neck and your fingers petting his hair while you call him your good boy. Only when every Saturday he is allowed to cum on your strap.

His success is just as much your success. Because without you, Sukuna couldn't be the man he needs to be.

This was the first time I wrote submissive Sukuna, and it was so much fun!! IT WAS SO EXHILARATING TO WRITE THIS FIC!! Thank you so much to the sweet anon who sent me the ask about my thoughts on sub!Sukuna. He is SUCH a good boy ;) I want to hear him whimper and sob so bad!!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n

2K notes · View notes

maxtermind · 3 months

Text

if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

★ : summary :: when they lose a race ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort; angst; fluff ★ : word count :: 2.7k

Max Verstappen

Max had never felt so distant from you. He had the win in his bag, he started good and was going to give it his all but was forced to retire due to a sudden engine failure while leading the race.

He was rightfully disheartened. The post-race meeting only added to his frustration as blame was thrown around instead of taking responsibility. It only got worse when he walked out of it with a, ‘This is such a waste of time.’

As he ranted in the car, his anger palpable, you listened silently, and caressed his hand when, had gotten a call from his dad.

“Just let it ring,” you whispered from the passenger seat. Your attempt was futile though before he picked up the call and put it on bluetooth in his ear.

You waited until you reached home before discreetly ending the call, giving Max a moment to compose himself. He didn’t let you hear anything but as he sat in his seat, rubbing his face to get rid of his emotions, you knew the conversation had affected him deeply.

Opening his car door, you pulled him out using his hand before getting home before you both took a shower in silence, allowing Max the space to process. It wasn't until you were tucked under the covers, clean and warm, that he finally spoke.

"I just hate feeling like I let everyone down," Max confessed, his voice heavy with guilt.

"You didn't let anyone down, Max,” you reassured him, kissing the top of his hand. “You gave it your all out there.”

"I still feel like I'm constantly disappointing everyone," Max muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

"You're not a disappointment, Max. You're a phenomenal driver, and sometimes things just don't go our way.”

"It's hard to believe that sometimes," Max admitted, his gaze distant and you realized what exactly he was thinking about right now.

"Your dad's words don't define you, Max. You're so much more than that," you said firmly, refusing to let him internalize the negativity.

"It's just… I've always looked up to him, you know? His opinion matters," Max confessed, his tone tinged with sadness.

"But you're your own person, Max. And you're incredible in your own right," you reminded him, squeezing his hand gently.

"I know, but… it still hurts," Max admitted, his shoulders slumping with the weight of it all.

"I wish I could shield you from all of this," you murmured, feeling a pang of helplessness. Your boyfriend nodded softly, looking so so so small that it was physically hurting you to even keep looking at him, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within.

"Hey, look at me," you said, gently tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You are loved, Max. Don't ever forget that." "Thanks, Y/N. I needed to hear that," Max replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Anytime, Max. I'm here for you, through the highs and the lows," you said earnestly, offering him a comforting embrace.

He looked conflicted for a second and you were sure whatever he was about to say was going to officially break your heart into two. Max's voice was barely above a whisper when he admitted it, his expression pained,"It's just… seeing them celebrate my failure, it stings."

"I know it's tough seeing those celebrations, Max, but remember, those people celebrating are just haters who can't accept that someone is doing better than them," you said firmly, trying to inject some perspective into the situation. "Their joy comes from a place of envy, not genuine happiness. Don't let their negativity dampen your spirit."

"I hope you're right," Max said, his voice tinged with doubt. "Thanks for always being there, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you," Max said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"You'll never have to find out, Max. I'll always be by your side.”

Lewis Hamilton

Your heart dropped the moment you saw the tire puncture Lewis’ car in the second last lap of the race. His frustration and curses echoed through the headphones, reaching you with a painful clarity.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! This is all so shit!” Lewis’s distorted voice cried through the radio. “I was so fucking close!”

As much as it hurt you to listen to this, you decided to keep your emotions at bay so you could handle your boyfriend’s better. Silently making your way through the people in the paddock to the back.

The chaos and disappointment from everyone forcing your chest to hurt a little. The only thought in your mind was how Lewis was probably feeling much much worse than you right now.

You heard his car before you saw him, and when you did, the defeat etched on his face made you want to cry. Lewis seemed drained and defeated, devoid of the usual fire.

“Baby?” You called, catching his attention. He nodded at someone before making his way towards you. Pulling you into a less crowded area before wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

"I don’t think I can face the interviews and media circus after this," he confessed, his breath warm against your neck.

"Should I go get the getaway car ready?" You joked, delighted to hear a small huff from his mouth.

“Can’t really leave before that though,” Lewis replied. “I’m beat, just wish it wasn’t this close to winning.”

Realizing he needed encouragement, you took a deep breath and spoke softly.

"Lewis, it's incredibly tough luck to have a tire blowout so close to the finish line, especially when you were leading so strongly," you said, feeling his grip tighten around you. "But these moments, they test your resilience and determination."

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as you continued to rub his back.

"I know it's hard, Lewis, but remember, every setback is just a setup for a comeback," you whispered soothingly.

"I just had my heart set on this win," he murmured, disappointment evident in his voice.

"I know, love, but sometimes things don't go as planned," you replied, offering a comforting squeeze.

"It's like the universe has it out for me today," Lewis said with a bitter chuckle.

"Maybe it's just testing how badly you want it," you suggested optimistically. "Well, it's certainly made its point," he said, a hint of bitterness lingering.

You were about to speak again when he interrupted.

"I just wish it had been enough."

"It will be next time," you said confidently, refusing to let him dwell on the defeat.

"I hope you're right," Lewis said, a hint of determination creeping back into his voice. "Thanks for always believing in me.”

"Always, Lewis. That's what lovers are for," you said, smiling warmly at him, admiring his eyes that had some of their shine back intact.

Carlos Sainz

The relief you felt when Carlos walked out of the safety car before making his way towards you was indescribable. From the moment his car collided with another due to a racing incident until now, with his arms around your shoulders, you hadn't taken a single calm breath.

It was probably less brutal than what was shown on the screen, given that it happened so fast that none of the drivers had even processed what was happening. Still the incident had left you with a knot of dread in your stomach.

Carlos was okay, you repeated to yourself, but it didn't quell the pounding of your heart or the trembling of your hands. You were trying to stay composed but it was really hard while your boyfriend talked to someone from the team, frustrated that he had to retire so soon.

"Hey, at least you're still in one piece," you pointed out, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation but it sounded dry and that was when Carlos took a good look at you, his gaze sharpening as he realized how shaken you were. "Babe, are you alright?" Carlos asked, his concern evident in his voice as he reached out to touch your trembling hand.

"I'm fine, just a bit shaken," you admitted, forcing a shaky smile as you tried really hard to stay in the present and not let your brain run rampant.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," Carlos said, his eyes filled with regret as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. Knowing that he would’ve been the same if it was the other way around.

"I promise I'll be more careful out there," Carlos vowed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"I'm just glad you're okay," you whispered, burying your face in his chest as you finally allowed yourself to let go of the tension you had been holding.

"It's not your fault, Carlos. These things happen in racing-”

"I know, but I hate putting you through this," Carlos said, his voice filled with remorse. "Let's forget about the race for now, okay? We'll focus on us."

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you leaned into his warmth, longing to put the ordeal behind you.

"I love you so much," Carlos said earnestly, his eyes filled with love as he looked at you. Hands holding you tight against him, grounding you so you could understand that he was real and wasn’t going anywhere.

"Let's get out of here and grab some dinner, just the two of us," Carlos proposed, eager to shift your focus away from the day's events as he led you towards the exit. Mentally making a list of things he would tell you to take your mind off of what happened today.

Charles Leclerc

You found yourself seething almost as much as Charles after yet another podium slipped away due to a messed up pit stop. It lasted more than a fucking forever at such a pivotal moment in the race.

It really made you wonder whether his team was even working with him or deliberately against him to make sure that neither of them could score more points. He had opted to stay silent, shutting out the media and team meetings, and unfortunately, that meant withdrawing from you too.

“Charles?” You asked after giving him ample time to process the race in the sitting room all alone like he requested.

He simply hummed before taking a sip of whatever his glass held before you carefully took it from his hand and put it on the table. Crawling into his lap to make sure he knew he could lean on you.

"This isn't the solution," you whispered, pointing to yourself. "Talk to me. Mid-life crises are lighter when shared."

“I don’t think I have the brain to make a correct decision ever.”

"Hey, don't say that," you said firmly, looking into his eyes with a mixture of concern and determination. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there, Charles. One pit stop mishap doesn't change that," you assured, brushing a stray hair from his face.

"But it keeps happening, Y/N," Charles replied, his voice heavy with frustration. "I know, love, and it's unfair. But you can't let it define you," you said, cupping his cheek in your hand.

"I understand how frustrating it is, Charles," you said, your voice soft but determined. "But dwelling on what went wrong won't change anything."

"What do you suggest, then?" Charles asked, a hint of desperation in his tone. "Let's analyze what happened today. Break it down step by step," you suggested, gently guiding him to a more constructive approach. "Let's start with the pit stop. What went wrong there?" you prompted, encouraging him to identify the specific issues.

"It was a miscommunication between the crew members," Charles recalled, his brow furrowing with concentration.

"Okay, so how can we prevent that from happening in the future?"

"Maybe we need to implement clearer communication protocols," Charles suggested, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes.

"That sounds like a solid plan. Let's discuss it with your team tomorrow," you said, nodding in agreement.

"But what if they don't listen to me?" Charles wondered, his confidence wavering.

"You're their driver, Charles. Your input is invaluable. They'll listen," you assured him, offering a reassuring smile.

"I feel a bit better now," Charles admitted, a hint of relief in his tone. “I was just so lost, I should've talked to you a bit sooner.” Your boyfriend whispered before leaning down and dropping a soft lingering kiss on your lips, conveying what words couldn't. "I'm lucky to have you, Y/N."

"And I'm lucky to have you, Charles. We make a great team," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Lando Norris

The usual smile was off of Lando’s face. He faced an unavoidable collision with another car in the chaotic start of the race, resulting in damage to his car and an early retirement. Though he tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, the tension in his jaw and the sharpness in his gaze betrayed his true emotions.

Lando typically a laid back playful guy who was always joking around, had retreated into himself on this dismal day, with even the reporters giving him a wide berth. No one has seen him this dejected before and it was killing you.

However, as soon as the race concluded, it was clear why he was keeping up appearances. Lando pecked your cheek and told you to stay put before following the rookie who had collided with his car.

Alarm bells rang in your head and you were right behind him, stopping him using his shoulder.

“Babe, maybe it's best to cool down before confronting him.” You saw him sigh and open his mouth to retort but you were quicker. “Walk with me.”

You understood him obviously, knowing that the incident was beyond his control and shattered his hopes for a strong finish.

"I can't just let it slide, Y/N," Lando said, his voice tight with frustration as he glanced back towards the rookie's garage.

“I understand, Lando, but lashing out won't change anything," you said gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm, relieved when he finally started walking away.

"I just feel so helpless," Lando admitted, his shoulders slumping with defeat.

"You're not helpless, Lando. You're just taking a moment to process everything," you reassured him, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.

"It's just hard to stay positive when everything feels like it's falling apart," Lando confessed, his usual optimism dimmed by disappointment. "I just hate feeling like I'm at the mercy of circumstances.”

"I know, love. But remember, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together," you assured him, intertwining your fingers with his. “You, me and the team. He’s going to face penalties anyway.”

"I just wish I could turn back time and avoid that collision," He sighed, letting you drag him to a park nearby for a walk.

"I understand, love. But dwelling on what could have been won't change the present. Let's focus on what we can do now," you suggested, leading him away from the chaos of the race track.

"But what if this affects my standings in the championship?" He wondered aloud, his brow furrowing with worry, a pout evident on his face.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, babe. Right now, let's focus on taking care of you," you said, your voice filled with determination. "Let's just take this walk and clear our heads, okay? If you still want to talk to him later, I’ll support you."

He was extremely grateful that you pulled him away at the time because not even an hour later, the rookie approached Lando and apologized for his mistake.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

1K notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 4 months

Text

stuck between a rock and a hard place | S.R.

You, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

who? spencer reid x fem!FBI!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, hospitals, medical inaccuracy, drugs, sex crimes/trafficking, attempted sa, reader works in sex crimes. mentions foyet and also 6x24 (supply and demand). established relationship. word count: 7.7k a/n: this has been sitting in my wip folder for far too long. i am now emotionally attached to these two. i will write more of this specific pairing because now all i want is for them to be happy.

Spencer

It wasn’t every day that men and women in suits piled into the BAU carrying evidence boxes, everyone stood up at their desks. Spencer watched as Andi Swann followed in behind the other agents, not even bothering to greet the team as she went straight to Emily’s office.

Prentiss opened the door, letting Andi in before beckoning for Reid to join them. This had to be about you.

Ignoring the way his heart rate spiked, Spencer stood up from his desk and went up to Emily’s office. On the other side of the bullpen, the rest of the team filed into the roundtable room.

“Spencer, have a seat,” Emily offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Glancing at Agent Swann, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “No, I’ll stand.”

Andi cleared her throat, looking at Spencer, she spoke, “Y/N missed her last two check-ins. As her next of kin, I need to notify you to let you know that as of now, the FBI is considering her missing.”

He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be mad, but he’d seen this before. Years ago, an agent in Andi’s unit missed her check-ins and the BAU helped find her. More than that, he knew how much Andi cared about her agents, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Section Chief Cruz has asked that the BAU help to recover Y/N,” Emily said, looking at Spencer. “You know I have to tell you that you can’t be on this case,” she explained, leaning against her desk, eyes flickering as she tried to read Spencer’s expression.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at Emily, “Y/N’s gone missing, and I’m not allowed to help look for her?”

Sympathetically, Prentiss shook her head, dark hair swaying with the movement. “You know it’s a conflict of interest to be involved with a loved one’s case.”

“Isn’t that kind of what the BAU does?” He could’ve rambled off a list of BAU agents who worked on cases involving their loved ones – including himself and Emily.

Turning to face Agent Swann, Emily suggested she join the rest of the team in the roundtable room. She waited until the door was closed before speaking again, “When’s the last time you saw Y/N?”

Closing his eyes, he remembered the morning of the day you left, the both of you had stayed up late as if you could delay your departure, but the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the Sex Crimes Unit before making his way up to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. “We haven’t even spoken since she left,” he answered, almost a month ago now.

“Is there a chance she tried to reach you or her family?” Emily asked. She had to ask, he knew that, but it didn’t make the questions any less ridiculous to him.

Shaking his head, he began to pace around the office, “No, she wouldn’t have done that. She follows the undercover playbook obsessively. She always said freestyling was like signing your death certificate.” He tried. He tried to get you to leave him breadcrumbs, but you never did.

Nodding, Emily watched as he paced back and forth “When did you get married?”

Pressing his lips into a thin white line, he stopped in his tracks, “When I came back after The Believers. It was the next day.” You had offered to sleep on the couch in an attempt to give him space when he asked you to go to the courthouse with him. That was two months ago now.

He didn’t want space. Not from you. Never from you.

Finally, he sat down.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emily asked, sitting down in the chair next to him. “Did you have a witness to sign your marriage certificate?”

Nodding, Spencer reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced three rings, his wedding ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding band. You didn’t have the time to get them soldered together yet. “Rossi was our witness,” he responded, “He was the only one who answered his phone.” He slipped his ring on and closed his fist around your two rings.

After a moment, Emily stood, “I’m going to speak with the rest of the team, but I won’t tell them anything I don’t think is pertinent to the case.” Which was her way of saying ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ “Stay in here as long as you need, Spence,” she offered before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind her.

He thought of the last night you were together. Spencer tried to check in with you, he told you that if your job ever became too much, you just had to tell him, and he’d be there. What he neglected to tell you was that he was beginning to feel like your job was too much for him.

You had given him the opportunity to hold you close, and instead, he let you slip through his fingers.

Opening his fist, he looked down at your rings and the indent they had left on his palm, slipping them back into his pocket before he walked over to the roundtable room. Everyone paused what they were doing to look up at him.

Spencer just shrugged and looked at Emily, “I can’t just do nothing.”

In response, Emily nodded solemnly and suggested he go through the case files with Matt.

It had been hours. The sun had set, jackets had been shed, and takeout had been ordered. The clock behind him showed it was nearly midnight, meaning it had been almost two days since anyone had last heard from you.

“Oh god,” Penelope said, her voice cutting into the thick silence of the roundtable room. Her fingers began frantically typing on her laptop.

Spinning in the office chair, Spencer wheeled over so he could look at the screen, vaguely aware of Emily hovering above him, “What is it? What did you find?”

She hit the keyboard so hard he thought they might break, but she answered, “The trauma center at Johns Hopkins reported a Jane Doe brought in a few hours ago. She matches Y/N’s description.”

“Did they run prints?” Andi asked, of course, there would be red tape if the hospital tried to run your prints, seeing as you were undercover.

Another tap and dozens of files opened, “It looks like she went right into surgery. Uh, the EMTs reported she was listing off a string of numbers when they brought her in… 265D019Z?”

Spencer swallowed thickly, “That’s Y/N’s badge number.”

Shaking her head, JJ looked over at the map of DC on the wall, “It’s a two-hour drive to Baltimore from here.”

“But it’s a thirty-minute flight, Reid, Tara, Swann, and Alvez go. The rest of us will look into what happened from here,” Emily doled out responsibilities, nodding at everyone as the team broke.

Spencer stayed still, still looking at Penelope’s screen, his eyes flickering over the documents. Words jumped out at him, drugged, punctured, and knife. It made his stomach churn. How had you gotten to Baltimore? Your unit had you set up in an apartment near the Hill. When did you travel from the district to Baltimore?

The thirty-minute flight felt like it was hours long, the drive from the airstrip to the hospital dragged on, but thankfully Emily had called the hospital ahead of time to let them know who you were and who was coming for you.

A doctor stopped the four of you from going into the room, a police officer was already stationed outside of the room, and the blinds were closed. Please, Spencer wanted to plead, please just let me see her.

“She’s weak, she just came down from recovery and she hasn’t fully woken up yet,” the doctor said, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t in good faith let you go in there and badger her with questions. Not with no one in there to focus on her well-being,” she ordered. The doctor stared the four of them down with piercing gray eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer peeked through the doorway when a nurse exited your room. “She’s my wife, I’ll advocate for her,” he responded, hoping the doctor would let him through. He could feel Tara and Luke staring, but he didn’t care.

Nodding, the doctor continued sizing Reid up, “Alright, but just you, for now. She’s not awake enough to be questioned anyway.” Stepping to the side, the doctor let Spencer through before blocking the doorway to everyone else.

In the worst way possible, you took his breath away. Your skin was sallow, you had an IV, nasal cannula, and a chest tube out the left side. Walking to your right, he took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your bloodied knuckles – evidence that you had put up one hell of a fight. “Oh sweetheart, what did they do to you?” He whispered even though he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Reaching over you, he smoothed your hair from your face, your skin was clammy, probably as a result of blood loss. It looked like they were still transfusing, so you had probably lost a considerable amount of blood.

Shuffling the seat closer to you, Spencer took your hand in his. The doctor came back in holding a tablet, “Dr. Reid?”

He hummed in response, not daring to take his eyes off of you. “What happened to her? Why did she need surgery?”

“She had been bleeding out in an alley, according to the police officers who reported to the scene. The other agents are talking to them now,” the doctor said, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. “She had been stabbed several times in the upper left side, we went in to repair damage to her spleen, liver, and lung. There was some strain to her heart, it appears she was drugged before she was stabbed.”

He intently watched the steady rise and fall of your chest before he spoke up again, “Is she going to be okay?”

Setting the tablet down, the doctor paused before answering, “We’ll know more when she wakes up.”

Spencer leaned back in the chair, finally taking his eyes off of you and looking at the doctor, “Was there anything… did they…” He felt ridiculous, having spent the better part of his adult life in the BAU, and he couldn’t even put the words together.

To his relief, the doctor shook her head, “There were no injuries that suggested she was sexually assaulted.”

Reading the doctor’s badge, Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Herman.”

“Hit the call button when she wakes up, we’ll need to evaluate her pain and other treatment,” the doctor said, gathering her things before walking out of the room, and shutting the door behind her.

Spencer kept his eyes on you, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, every once in a while, his phone rang, but he didn’t have the energy to talk on the phone. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages.

Penelope Garcia: How is she? Spencer Reid: Still sleeping. Penelope Garcia: How are you? Spencer Reid: Not sure.

Setting his phone on the table, screen down, he watched you again, every once in a while, your nose would twitch, or your eyes would flutter. Every time he would hold his breath, hoping you’d open your eyes.

He waited, and about an hour after he had arrived, a small, keening noise came from you. His head snapped up at the sound, your eyes were still closed, but you were moving. “Y/N?” He whispered hesitantly, not wanting to wake you up if you weren’t ready. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, not sure if he should keep waiting or if he should hit the call button.

You were muttering something, talking to someone in your sleep, when suddenly you jerked away. Instinctively, Spencer put his hands on your shoulders to stop you from tearing your stitches, and it was that touch that caused your eyes to snap open. “No, no, no, no,” you babbled, frantically looking around the hospital room.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, keeping his hands on your shoulders, “You’re safe, I’m here. You’re at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him and mouthed the word ‘Baltimore.’ As if you were trying to figure out how you had ended up in Baltimore, something the BAU still hadn’t figured out. “I thought I…” Your voice was nothing more than a rasp, but with the bruises he could now see littering your neck, that didn’t surprise him much. “Did you see it?”

Spencer pushed the call button without you noticing, “Did I see what, love?” He asked, keeping his voice low as he gently sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, “Is Andi here?" Your voice was tight, like you were struggling to breathe. "I need to talk to Andi.”

Helplessly, Spencer watched as the number signifying your heart rate jumped, “Not just yet, alright?” He said, looking up when the doctor and a nurse came through the door.

The doctor introduced herself and started trying to get you to even out your breathing, one of the monitors was beeping like crazy until the nurse hit a button on it.

All he could do was watch, making sure he didn’t get in the way. Listening in to words about medications and making a mental note to research everything. “How’s your pain, Y/N? On a scale from one through ten.” The doctor asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Like a seven? When I breathe it’s more like a nine,” you answered, every word was strained. The doctor flashed a light in your eyes, “That isn’t helping,” you said through gritted teeth.

The doctor said something to the nurse, prompting her to nod before pushing something through your IV. After a few moments, Spencer watched as your heart rate lowered and your body visibly relaxed into the mattress. You nodded softly when the nurse asked if that was better.

Dr. Herman left and the nurse scrawled some notes down on your chart, introducing herself as Amelia before she left as well.

“Oh no,” you whispered, looking in the direction of the door. “Is the whole BAU here? How badly did I fuck up?”

Quickly, Spencer shook his head, “You didn’t, at all. It’s just me, Tara, and Luke,” he tried to reassure you as best he could without knowing the full story. “Do you feel up to talking?” He asked, smoothing your hair away from your face.

You nodded gently, “I need to talk to Andi. Alone, if it’s okay with you.”

“I can wait right outside in the hallway,” he offered, holding your hand in his and skimming the pad of his thumb over top of your knuckles.

You hummed contentedly, “Could you see if I can have water?”

Grateful to have something to do, Spencer stood up, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room, garnering the attention of the agents who were waiting in the hallway, all of them staring at Spencer expectantly, “Andi, she wants to talk to you.”

The Unit Chief nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

He was gone for three minutes, that was the time it took him to walk to the nurses’ station and ask if you were allowed liquids and back, but when he returned the door to your room was wide open. “Where did they go?” He asked, looking over at Tara.

She was still leaning against the taupe hospital walls before nodding in the direction of the red exit sign, “Swann was in there for maybe two minutes before she came out in a huff, she took Alvez with her.” Lewis spoke calmly like it didn’t necessarily mean anything to her.

But it did to him. Walking back into your room, he stood at the side of your bed, “What did you tell Andi that you didn’t want me hearing?”

“Huh?” You sounded tired – rightfully so. Your pupils were dilated, which told Spencer that the drugs that the doctors had given you were working.

It comforted him that you weren’t in as much pain, but you were still hiding something from him. “You asked me to leave while you talked to Andi because you didn’t want me to hear what you were telling her. What did you tell her?”

Your face softened as your eyes filled with a different kind of hurt, “Don’t profile me.” You were too tired to hide the pain in your voice.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “Don’t lie to me,” He countered. You were lying by omission, but what was worse was that you might’ve been putting yourself in danger.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimpered.

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched your eyes fill with tears, he sat down on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would you think I’d leave you, darling?”

Your eyes were half-closed, “because you…” your voice trailed off and he squeezed your hand to get your attention. “When Scratch had Emily, you wanted to kill him,” you murmured.

The air had been knocked out of his lungs. You hadn’t been talking about a divorce. You were saying that you could identify your assailant, and you didn’t want Spencer to know. “I won’t go,” he whispered, “I’ll be right here.”

“It was Jake,” you mumbled, barely able to open your mouth as you fought your exhaustion.

That hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. He swallowed thickly, “Jake did this to you?” He asked slowly, looking at your hand, your fingers intertwined.

Minutely, you shook your head, “Jake blew my cover, Spence.” Yawning, you proceeded to mumble about him doing it on purpose.

Untangling your fingers, Spencer reached out and smoothed your hair away from your forehead, “Get some sleep, angel. I love you.”

You hummed an ‘I love you’ back, and the next moment your eyes were shut.

A nurse came in and asked for a moment while she checked the output of your chest tube, ushering Spencer and Tara out. “Okay, I’ll bite, who’s Jake?” Tara asked, putting a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly at Reid.

“Jake is her partner. When she’s not undercover and just out in the field, they’re partners,” Spencer explained.

Tara pursed her lips thoughtfully, “So, he would’ve known that she was undercover.”

Nodding as the newly added weight of the situation threatened to pull him down, Spencer turned and faced you, watching as the nurse examined you as you slept. “He blew her cover on purpose,” he reached up and rubbed his eye. Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he blew your cover, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you begged Spencer not to leave you.

“We have to go back in and ask her more questions,” Tara said.

Usually, Spencer agreed with Tara, but not this time. He saw the monitors you were hooked up to, he read your chart, and he watched the concerned looks on the nurses’ faces. They all told him that you weren’t stable enough to be speaking, let alone a cognitive interview. “No,” Spencer said finally.

Clearing her throat lightly, Tara stood next to him in the doorway, “We can’t let them get away, Reid.”

“And I can’t lose her,” he rebutted, ignoring the way his voice broke in his desperation.

Stepping back slightly, the other agent nodded in understanding. “Okay, I’ll call Emily. You go sit with her.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice; he pulled a chair up impossibly close to your bedside and draped his jacket over the back of it before loosening his tie and sitting down.

You

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, but the bright lights of the hospital room made it hard for you to get any real rest. You were pleased to find that, true to his word, Spencer was right next to you when he woke up.

He was sleeping, resting his head on his hand with his wrist bent awkwardly. “Spence,” You whispered, clearing your throat, “Spencer.” You couldn’t reach out to touch him, but you wanted to wake him up, so his wrist wasn’t sore.

Jolting awake, he looked at you, “Hey, did you just wake up? How do you feel?”

It was a weird question, you felt like an absolute dumpster fire. “Better,” you whispered, “less hurt, achier. Sore. I don’t know, my head feels fuzzy,” you rambled, trying to move higher up on the hospital bed, but being limited by the chest tube. “How long do I have to have it?” You asked, staring at the plastic tubing as if you could make it go away via the power of suggestion.

“At least through the night, but it could be longer,” he said, reaching over and smoothing over the edges of your blanket. “Do you know what they gave you?” Spencer asked, shaking out his wrist.

You hummed in response, “No, it was intravenous though. They were big on amphetamines, but it didn’t feel like a stimulant. Benzos maybe,” you told him, your voice was soft. The pain in your throat had subsided after being intubated during surgery, but you were still swollen from when Cal grabbed you.

None of this made sense to you. The one thing that bothered you more than anything else was why Cal stopped when Jake said to. It couldn’t have been as simple as the money.

Spencer must’ve noticed you burrowing into your memories, “You remember everything?” He asked gently.

He knew what he was implying, in more cases involving severe trauma, victims generally remember everything or remember nothing. It was lucky for law enforcement when they remembered, but bad for the victims. Bad for you. “Mostly,” you breathed, avoiding his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“Why? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he tried to reassure you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

You hummed, “I don’t remember anything after they drugged me, just the stuff before. Just the…” Your voice trailed off as you returned to your confusion. “Who’s still here that I can talk to?”

He squeezed your hand comfortingly, “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice,” you answered him despondently.

Spencer nodded before he got up from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he stepped out into the hallway and let Tara in.

The agent smiled at you gently, “Hey, Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asked, sitting down at a free chair at the end of your hospital bed, leaving the chair at your side available for Spencer to return to.

You gave your best attempt at returning the smile before you answered, “I think I’m going to make it.”

As Spencer sat back down next to you, placing a water cup on your bedside table, Tara opened a file and looked through it, “Can you start by telling me a little bit about your assignment? You were undercover as… Barbara?” She read from the file.

Nodding slowly, you held out your hand for Spencer to hold, “Yeah, but they called me Babs.”

Three days ago...

You shifted self-consciously in the gold dress. It was a silky, slippery number that displayed more than you particularly liked. Spencer would probably like it, but he’d hate how uncomfortable you were in it.

Inadvertently, you smiled at just the thought of your husband. It was late, so he was probably at home, reading next to the fireplace. Maybe he was on a case, off somewhere in the United States and saving lives.

It had been twenty-nine days since you had last seen him.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Babs,” Johnathan McCallister, better known as Cal, told you, reaching out and placing a hand on either one of your shoulders before placing a kiss on both cheeks.

Bashfully, you smiled at him, “You’re too good to me, Cal. I can’t believe you got me in!” Deep down, you knew tonight could be the night, you would be able to take down The Program. At least the D.C. chapter of it.

When it was over, you could be Y/N Reid again, instead of Barbara McFarston.

The Program took women around your age and sold them into sex slavery. The chapter in Washington D.C. was one of the most active, which made sense when you looked around the room and saw a majority of the people were elected officials – men and women alike.

Andi Swann had assured you that taking down this chapter would create a domino effect, causing the other chapters to topple. According to her, if you could take down D.C., Miami, and Los Angeles, The Program would most likely cease to exist.

Turning to ask Cal about the selection tonight, you were startled to see familiar gray eyes on your companion’s other side. You felt your façade slip, but only for a second before you pasted a brilliant smile back on your face.

You tilted your head to the side, “And who might you be?” You asked Jake, wondering if Andi had sent him in to get a status report on you.

“Jake Cohn,” he answered, and goosebumps spread over your exposed skin at his answer. He should’ve said William Jacoby, that was his identity for this case.

In horror, you watched as Jake leaned in to whisper something in Cal’s ear, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You bit your tongue as Cal wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tightly, “Let’s talk.”

You stumbled a little over your own feet and looked at Jake with wide eyes, the leader forcefully shoved you into a private room, one that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under a blacklight. “What’s wrong, Cal?” You asked, standing up straight.

He reached over and grabbed the back of your neck, gathering the hair at the nape of your neck in his fist. The force of it made you scrunch your shoulders up, “You’re a fucking fed?” He seethed, tossing you to the ground in one swift movement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to convince him. Tried to flip the script so that Jake was the liar instead of you.

Cal grabbed your throat next, holding you down on a booth seat. “Oh, Y/N… Jake’s been one of my best employees for years.” He said, chuckling at the betrayal in your eyes, he only laughed more when you kneed him in the gut. “Oh, I like it when they fight back.”

You shut your eyes tightly as you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, but they snapped back open when you heard the word, “Stop.”

“What? Did you want first go on her?” Cal asked, wiping his cheek – you must’ve scratched him in your struggle.

Jake cleared his throat and met your eyes, “We should keep her clean, you know?” He said, and for a moment you thought he was actually trying to help you, “Think about how much a clean fed would go for here. Especially in D.C.”

And just like that, your hopes were dashed, “he’s right,” you told Cal, trying to formulate a plan.

“Shut up, whore,” Cal spat, causing you to involuntarily flinch.

At least there’s nothing he could call you that you hadn’t heard before, in your line of work, people got very creative.

Cal looked at you, inspecting your neck where he had grabbed you before, “You’ll make me a lot of money, won’t you?” He said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly before poking you with a needle.

Your legs gave out beneath you, but Jake caught you before you hit the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d do this. I thought he’d kick you out, but I didn’t think…”

Looking up at him, your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or throw up, but you shut your eyes. “No, you didn’t.” You don’t just casually tell the leader of a sex trafficking ring that the person with them is an FBI agent.

Present

“And that’s the last thing you remember?” Tara asked, scribbling something down in your file.

You nodded absentmindedly, “I think…” Your voice trailed off as you looked at Spencer, “I think Jake might’ve been in charge the whole time. Pulling the strings from behind the curtain while he waited for the perfect time to catch me off guard. That’s the only reason Cal would’ve backed off when Jake told him to,” You proposed your theory, not missing the way Spencer was holding your hand a little tighter than before.

Tara’s brows were raised, “Jake Cohn has worked in the bureau for almost a decade, it would be hard for him to evade detection for that long.”

“But he knows exactly how to evade it,” you rebutted. “He’d know all of the tricks from Sex Crimes and all of my tricks. He- He set me up,” you realized.

Spencer turned around and looked at your monitor, “Okay, let’s take a break. We can talk more later.”

Getting up, Tara let Spencer know she was going to call the rest of the team before she stepped back into the hallway.

“My chest hurts,” you said, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

In response, Spencer smoothed your hair back in an attempt to comfort you. “Your heart is racing,” he whispered, “Take a deep breath, okay?”

You nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through your nostrils and letting the air collect in your lungs before blowing it out your mouth. Looking up at Spencer, worry plain in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you came to a decision, “Spence?”

He bowed slightly closer to you so he could hear you better, “What is it, love?” He moved his hand, so it was gently cupping your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you whispered, “It’s too much.” The only thing you had left was to hope he knew what you were talking about, the words were too hard right now, but you felt them contributing to the burning in your chest.

“Okay,” he answered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about disappointing anyone.”

You practically melted back into the hospital bed; the weight of your job eased off of you. Nodding, you closed your eyes, “It’s good, this is good. I just feel crazy, but a good crazy.”

Spencer smiled at you, “Okay crazy,” he whispered, “I’m going to-“ He was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, furrowing his brows, he swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, JJ.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried to listen to JJ’s side of the conversation, but either she was speaking quietly, or Spencer had his phone volume really low. From the way Spencer’s jaw tightened, you knew that this couldn’t be anything good.

He looked at you before looking at the door, “Do you know where?” He said in a tone entirely unfamiliar to you, it was low and steely. Reaching over you, he nimbly pressed the call button on your bed, “Okay, keep me updated.”

“Spencer, what is going on?” You asked as the nurse came into your room, faltering for a moment as she looked at the two of you.

Placing a hand on the bar of your hospital bed, Spencer looked at the nurse, “Do you have somewhere secure she can be moved to?”

The nurse looked shellshocked, surely the FBI occupying the hospital wasn’t an everyday occurrence, “I don’t… I don’t think so?” She seemed unsure of herself.

“Spencer,” you repeated his name.

He turned to look at you, “Jake’s here and he’s looking for you.” Turning back to the nurse, he pointed at you, “She has to be moved.”

“I don’t… I’m just a student, my preceptor is taking a break. I could try to find-“ The nurse stammered nervously. “We don’t usually just move people.”

Nothing about this situation was usual, but one look at Spencer told you this was life or death. Your life or your death. You sighed in defeat, “This is really going to suck.” Reaching over to your side, you gripped the tube that had been draining blood from outside your lung and pulled it out. Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the process, you tore the stitches holding it in place and set off all kinds of alarms, leading to a crowd of nurses and doctors charging into the room.

As someone held pressure down on where you were bleeding, someone said something about moving you to a sterile procedure room, and the nursing student trailed along, whispering “That was the stupidest smart thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Everything was blurry when you woke up next and, through the blinds, you could see that the sun was finally rising. The warm, orange light peeking through like lines on a piece of paper.

“Hey,” Spencer said from right next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered.

You looked away from him, back towards the blinds, “Will you open them?” You rasped, your throat felt raw, and your body felt heavy.

He got up and ambled over to the window, twisting the mechanism until the sun poured into your room. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy,” you whispered, the mental weight of the past several days was threatening to take you down, but physically you felt like Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Spencer hummed in response, “They sedated you, standard procedure for people who rip their own chest tubes out.” He adjusted the way your gown rested on your shoulders, “Luckily you didn’t do too much damage.”

You took a deep breath and leaned your head so you could look out the window. The outside felt so foreign to you now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had breathed real, fresh air. “So, what is the damage?” Your voice was little more than a murmur but with just the two of you in your room, it wasn’t hard to hear.

“You’re going to be fine; they think the tube can go later today. Then they’ll evaluate whether enough you’re strong enough to go home, it’ll probably be another couple of days,” He explained to you, matching your gentle tone. “Johnathan McCallister is in custody, and Jake Cohn is dead,” he told you, studying your face for any kind of reaction.

Closing your eyes, you felt white hot tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, laughing a little despite yourself. He probably thought you were losing it, crying over the death of someone who had nearly had you murdered.

The edge of your mattress dipped down slightly, and you opened your eyes to see Spencer sitting next to you, “You don’t need to be sorry, my love.” Gently, he rested a hand on your hip, skimming his thumb over the rough fabric of your hospital gown, “He was like family to you. I’m not sorry he’s dead – I’m not. I am sorry for that loss, though.”

Nodding, you felt it as your face crumpled, leading Spencer to lean down and hug you as best he could. “I’m sorry I scared you,” you said as he pulled away.

Your furrowed your brows in confusion as he reached into his pocket and produced your wedding ring, taking your left hand, he slid the rings on, “For better or for worse, right?”

A small smile grew on your face as the gem on your finger shimmered in the morning light, “for richer or for poorer,” you continued.

“In sickness and in health,” Spencer whispered, eyes flickering around the hospital room.

You reached up a shaky hand and cupped his cheek with your palm, “to love and to cherish.” You said, feeling a dopey, lovesick grin blooming on your face.

He turned his head and kissed the center of your palm, “until parted by death,” he finished, taking your hand in his.

“No dying,” you insisted, feeling your energy begin to drain, you started to understand why the doctors didn’t want you going home for a few days.

Spencer hummed in response, “You almost did. If you hadn’t been found when you were-“ his voice broke off and you had to tear your eyes away from his for a moment. “I still can’t believe you chose that,” he whispered, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Shrugging as if it was nothing, you melted back into the pillows, “I had a split second to weigh my options – get sold into sex slavery or get stabbed in the chest.”

“A catch-22,” he nodded, wrapping his head around your impossible decision. You couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take until the fear in his eyes left.

You shifted a little in the hospital bed, the sheets rustling as you did, “We get it, you’ve read Joseph Heller.”

He smiled at that, the light teasing seemed to bring brightness to his face, “What is it about blood loss that makes you think you’re funny?”

Laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could manage, “I am funny. And I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep then, baby,” he said softly, “it’ll all be here when you wake up.”

There was a party in your hospital room. It started with just Emily, coming in because you were finally up to seeing anyone other than Spencer, and it ended up being the entire BAU.

Someone had gone to the apartment and gathered clothes for you so that, once your chest tube was removed, you could put on real clothes. So now you were sitting up, wearing sweatpants and a ratty old college sweatshirt, and laughing with the BAU. You were leaning heavily on Spencer, who was also sitting on your hospital bed, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with keeping you steady.

Luckily for you, no one in the BAU wanted to ask about what had happened on your assignment, they were more interested in the rings that adorned your and Spencer’s fingers.

“I still can’t believe you two secretly got married,” Penelope said. “Of all of the times for me to not answer my phone.”

Next to her, Luke shrugged, “Honestly, I can believe it. It feels like a very Y/N and Reid thing to do.”

Gently, Spencer rubbed your back. His hovering was quickly going to become insufferable, but right now you were welcoming every touch with open arms.

“Well, we’ll have a party for the two of you. When you’re up for it, of course,” JJ said, smiling from where she was standing next to Emily.

You wanted to shake your head and tell them that it really wasn’t necessary, but asking the BAU to refrain from throwing a party was like asking a shark to stop swimming. Instead of debating, you just smiled and bobbed your head.

Eventually, Andi showed up, just as you knew she would. “Hey, guys,” Emily nodded in the direction of the doorway, “Why don’t we go raid the hospital cafeteria?”

After a few more hugs, including a lingering one from Garcia, the BAU, save for your husband, filtered out, and Andi made her way to the foot of your bed. “Hey,” you said, your voice was soft.

Nine years. You had spent nine years in the sex crimes unit. Spencer had done the math, you’d spent approximately seventy-six percent of that time undercover, missing birthdays, holidays, not ever really looking forward to the future. Until now.

You, the most decorated member of the sex crimes unit, were leaving.

Suspiciously, you eyed the files in Andi’s arms, one was a case file, the other a plain manila folder. She silently handed you the case file, and you shared a look with Spencer before flipping it open. “The Program is gone?” You asked, your eyes skimming the folder.

Swann nodded, her brown hair swaying with the movement, “The arrest of the leader of the D.C. chapter greatly contributed to that, but it was the death of the ringleader that took the remainder of The Program down.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded as you tried to process what she was telling you. Jake had been in charge all along. “Andi, I-“

“It was your intel that did it,” she cut you off. “From your last several assignments, everything you collected directly contributed to the downfall of this trafficking network. One of the largest networks the FBI has ever seen.”

She handed you the next file, labeled with only your name. You flipped it open, well aware that Spencer was reading from over your shoulder. “I don’t qualify for retirement,” you told her, furrowing your eyebrows, and looking at the papers in front of you. You didn’t qualify for retirement, and yet, you were looking at a retirement offer.

Your unit chief nodded understandingly, “I pulled some strings, with some help. Collectively, Prentiss and I know a lot of people.”

Spencer placed a supportive hand on your back, and you looked up at Andi. “I’m only thirty-two?” You asked, it wasn’t a clarification, it was a question.

“And yet,” she answered, “you’ve done more for the Bureau than most agents could hope to do in their whole career. This plan came from the director, Y/N. He wanted you to have it.”

Shaking your head, you handed the folder over to your husband so he could look through it. “I don’t… can I think about it?”

“He’ll want an answer soon but talk it over and give me a call when you’ve come to a decision,” she said, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. “And Y/N?”

You lifted your head up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, Andi?”

She smiled at you, a rare, real smile from her, “Make the right decision for you. You have a small army ready to support you through everything.”

Slowly, your gaze followed her out the door, waiting until you heard the latch of the door secure. Spencer handed the folder back to you, “What do you want to do?”

You flipped through the folder again, it was a lot of money, and there were a few different distribution options, but it was more than you felt you’d ever need. “I don’t really feel like I deserve this,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and rubbing the back of your neck. “The Bureau doesn’t offer early retirement like this, not without extenuating circumstances,” you continued.

“They did it with Hotch,” Spencer said, reading the file over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over to look at him, “That was way different, Haley was murdered by a serial killer.”

Spencer sighed, “I think you’re selling yourself short, darling. The Program was trafficking almost 12,000 people across the country. That’s almost 70 percent of the yearly total trafficking victims. You took them down,” he told you earnestly.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t do it alone, though.”

“Didn’t you, though? They sent you in with no communication device, no emergency signal, and information that wasn’t even true. Your unit told you Johnathan McCallister was the leader of the ring, but it ended up being a decorated agent and you’re the one who figured that out,” Spencer spoke emphatically. “You almost died in the process, and now there are thousands of victims who are going to go home – all thanks to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you looked at your husband, “You’re biased.” That felt true, but Spencer was the person who knew you best in the world.

“What’s holding you back?” He murmured gently, sweeping strands of your hair behind your ears.

Smiling unsurely, you closed your eyes, “Fear of the future. In the past nine years, the longest I’ve ever been home was four weeks. I don’t… What do you want me to do?”

He shook his head slowly, “it’s not my decision.” A diplomatic answer, you should’ve guessed.

“But what do you want me to do?” You pressed.

Sighing, you watched him weigh his options, “If my choices are you going back out into the field and getting hurt again, where maybe it doesn’t have this good of an outcome, or you, safe at home, where I get to see you more than approximately three months a year, then the choice is clear.”

When he laid it out for you like that, it was pretty clear. “Maybe I could finally see what all the BAU spouses are talking about. You know, how you’re never home,” you said. Some part of you always felt disconnected from the other BAU family members, Spencer wasn’t the one who was never home, you were.

Spencer laughed lightly, “We could celebrate your birthday together.” That was the one day you always missed. Almost six years together, and something always came up on your birthday.

“I’ve never had this before,” you whispered, there was still something about it that felt tentative, almost frail.

Smilingly softly, Spencer reached out and took your hand in his, “Had what before?”

You beamed, “A future to plan.” Everything was always laid out for you, every day was spent waiting for the next directive, a new assignment. “I mean, not in nine years.”

There were always dreams, late-night murmurs with Spencer about a house with a yard and kids running around, but they were just dreams. The nights when you were able to sleep next to each other. “Do you have plans for us?”

Nodding rapidly, you answered, “Oh yeah, you and me, I’ve got big plans for us.”

please remember to like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed :-)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer x retired!reader

1K notes · View notes

anastasiabowe · 5 months

Note

Can you do Akashi, Aomine and Kagami to reacting to their gf flashing them?? 🤭

𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆 𝘼𝙏 𝙈𝙀! — whenever your boyfriend ignores you, and won’t give you attention, you know exactly what will.

note: I literally didn’t know what to do sooo 😃

Content warnings: boobs, swearing, seduction..?, this is kind of a normal post so that’s a warning of itself, anything else 16+!

★ — 𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜

Akashi scrolled on his phone as he was sitting on his gaming chair. He doesn’t usually play video games, but after the embarrassing list he faced a few days prior, this was his only escape. He cringed at the thought of losing, so he tossed his phone into the desk and pressed resume on the game he was playing.

You widened your mouth as you noticed he just ignore the text you sent because his ears must have stopped working. You continued to poke and repeat yourself as he just ignored you. He didn’t even flinch when you flicked his neck.

You frowned and an idea popped up in your head. You walk towards his chair, and pulled it back a little. Again he didn’t flinch or even blink towards the action. You stepped in front of him and lifted your shirt. He was about to yell at you until his eyes fell onto your chest.

“Wh-“ his eyes widened, and you smirked. You could feel the internal conflict ion on what he should do, that very much annoying you. He ended up turning off his controller quickly and throwing it off to the side. He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.

You pulled your shirt back down, and he frowned. “So I have to show my tits just for you to acknowledge my existence?”

He looked at your face, and lifted up your shirt. He kissed your nipple, and smirked.

“Yes.”

★ — 𝗔𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘

Whenever Aomine is upset, everyone else must be miserable. Today, Aomine refused to speak to you. You ask him if he wants his favorite lunch, crickets. You ask him if he wanted to go out and play basketball with his friends who he was ignoring also.

All day you tried to convince him to speak to you, you made him food, did his laundry, organized his things, you even shined his basketball which he usually was grateful for yet he didn’t even bat an eye.

You sit next to him as he was laying on your bed scrolling on his phone. You honestly don’t know what will make him talk. You’ve offered to blow him, rub his feet, scratch his back, you got so desperate you styled his hair, which he also is usually grateful for. So you yourself poured, and repeatedly asked him to at least look at you.

“Aominichi!” He yawned, and continued to scroll. “Look at me, please!” He readjusted himself to where he was laying on his stomach. You felt defeated, he is a stubborn bitch. But then, you remembered, you had one more trick that should work.

You grab the hem of your shirt and lifted it up. You pulled your bra over too, and pulled them both off all the way.

“Aomine.” Your voice no longer had desperation, but amusement.

“Look at me!” You wiggled your boobs, and you saw his eyes quickly flick over your chest. After a little while, he turned off his phone, and finally looked at you. You smirked and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a perv, Aominichi!” You giggled

“Shut up!” He groaned.

★ — 𝗞𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗜

Ever since the silly little fight Kagami and his brother had, he was upset at everything. He would get mad and scream at his door when it would open when he turned his key. He would groan extreme hard when he tripped on his own shoe. He would even scoff at you when you sneezed towards his way.

You obviously were sick of this little kagatude and he clearly didn’t give a single fuck. You tried to tell me him to chill out, or get a grip, but he would ignore you and act as if you didn’t exist.

He was laying on your shared bed, and you told him you were taking a shower, and if he’d like to join he could. You both never had taken a shower together. Actually, you both have never seen each other naked, so you though maybe he would be persuaded by that, but he wasn’t. You had taken that shower alone, and you were upset. He has been eager to see you makes more than you have, and you were the one holding back, so this was obviously very annoying.

You looked at your naked body in front of of the mirror, as you stepped out and you thought of a brilliant idea. You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body. Thankfully you didn’t need to wash you hair so this plan would be perfect.

You stepped out of the bathroom, and Kagami was laying on his back on his phone as the tv played a show he was watching. You stepped in front of the tv, and smirked.

“Hey, Kagami, look.” You dropped the towel, and Kagami for a sec didn’t look, but when he did, he sat up. You laughed, and he moved himself to the end of the bed. He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his growing boner.

“Crazy you would ignore me until now, what made you change your mind?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He chuckled. He kissed your lips, and his hands wrapped around your body, and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled as he kissed your neck down to your chest, he circled his tongue in your nipple, and bit it.

You pulled from him, and he chased you, but you pushed his head back.

“Glad I got your attention, but you don’t get to touch me anymore. You don’t deserve it.”

#akashi #akashi seijuro #Akashi knb #akashi x reader #Aomine #aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #Kagami #taiga kagami #knb kagami #kagami x reader #Akashi smut #aomine smut #kagami smut #knb x you #knb smut #kuroko basket smut

910 notes · View notes

moonit3 · 7 months

Text

THE HAREM

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, gn! reader, harem (both of men and women), obsession, mentioned pregnancy, reader isn’t straight, mentioned children, nudity but nothing too much, the retired emperor (your father) wants grandchildren.

➥ synopsis: maybe a harem isn’t a bad idea after all, not with a bunch of people wanting to be yours.

➥ yandere! concubines harem x gn! reader

➥ a/n: here it is, my friends. an entire piece of a bunch of people obsessing over chasing the reader and able to anything to make you their. as the people has speak, the harem consists of men and women to let you guys choose or imagine about the concubines. I don’t what to say more, so enjoy it!

inheriting the throne of the empire, father and the council decided that you should get married soon as possible, which wasn’t bad. you already expected to enter a marriage like everyone told you so, but you didn’t expect that father would send a bunch of concubines to the palace…why did he do that? is he crazy?

according to him, it would be beneficial to the empire to have more connection with nobles of the territory and other people from other part of the world. but also that he desperately want grandkids to be running around the palace and since you are unsuccessful in striking a conversation, father is more than willingly to help you. he is lucky that you love him, because you were ready to choke him for those stupid actions.

things gotten worse by the time you receive the many proposals from people that are willing to join your harem, it’s shocked you a little. many nobles, foreigners and even politicians are offering themselves to become your concubines.

many palaces were build or reformed to be home for those who were assigned to enter your harem. the walls of golden, silver and other expensive material are a great to show how the leader of the nation isn’t above to spend his fortune to accommodate the people that will be part of their daily life, but it’s also a remind that none should interrupt the emperor/empress in their work, but some of those concubines ignore that.

it’s easy to find the most boldly and shameless people from your harem inside your office, whispering to your ears things that none should say during work hours and trying to move their hands to your lower parts. that irritates you, they are supposed to be bothering you on your free hours like you expected, but they don’t care. your beloved concubines knows that you don’t have courage to punish or exile them for their actions, aren’t you a sweetheart? so they often try to make a move on you when you less expected.

one of those unexpected moments was during your bath, when you prefer to be alone and peace that didn’t last long. a man and a woman appeared from nowhere and they were complete naked, showing their intimate part to you. before you could disappear or command them to leave, the men with white hair made you take a seat on his lap while the woman, with green hair, wash your body, speaking that someone so hard working like you should take a moment to rest with them.

your mind quickly remembers whose the two are, both of them are foreign knight who joined the harem not a long time ago. the scars they carry on their skin that tell stories of fights and conflicts, sunburn marks of spending hours under the sun working to archive the body of a warrior and good looking who could easily choose anyone to marry if they weren’t part of the harem.

neither of them dared to take things further, knowing that you are almost on the limit by having two concubines in your private bathroom, but that don’t stop them from trying to strike a special subject with you. asking if you already chose with who you will bed first and who will be the one to carry the first born/make you pregnant.

the two questions were enough to make you overthinking, how could you forget such an important thing and the main reason why there concubines? you need to give the throne a minimal of four potential heirs (father’s words) and for that, you need to choose at least three concubines.

with the bath ending, the two waved goodbye as they didn’t want to intrude your personal chambers when they notice how focused you got by his words. you didn’t saw the smiles on their faces, you failed to realize their plan is working and nor you perceived how the others concubines whispered to each other about the incoming rumors about you.

“it seems that our beloved is finally choosing someone to bed with them! it’s my chance to show myself to them!”

“w-will they take my consideration? the letters i wrote for them might work…”

“maybe they will choose more than one. the retired emperor said he wants at least four heirs from different people, so everyone has a chance!”

many days that were wasted to talk with father about the potential candidates were a lot, the old man couldn’t stop talking how happy he was when hearing yours words. “im going to be a grandfather! can’t you see how much proud am i to finally see you taking the first step to being with someone? i promise to help you raising the little ones!”and for next couple of hours, he didn’t stop talk about the potential scenarios with the hypothetical grandkids that he will spoils with no end.

when father finally stopped talking and went to retire for the rest of the night, you walked back to your office with the intention of finish paperwork that is meant for next month, but you found someone there. one of the tallest ladies of the harem with white curly hair that reach her chest and a dark skin that reminds of you callas lilies. a beautiful, no… a gorgeous woman stands in front of your with her hands holding your chin to look up at her starry eyes.

“my dear,” her voice is sweet as honey, but you can hear the undertones of it, holding back her true energy and you know she is more than a pretty face. “is that true of you choosing a concubine to bed with?”

“y-yeah.” you stuttered. why you did? you never did that before. “everyone knows it, why the question though, my lady?”

“because i was hoping to be the first one to experience it.” she whispered, holding your face closer to her chest, feeling how soft its feel against your cheek. “would you give me the pleasure of being your first, my dear?”

she is a bold one. unlike others who works at the shadows, manipulating and even killing those who are in their paths, the second born of the grand duke knows how to use her charms to enchants you to open your heart to let her in. her starry eyes are too bright to the darkness to the room, but you don’t move away from her gaze, at least not on your own.

a knock on the door reveals another concubine and it’s a familiar face, but also an old face from your childhood, the general. one of the greatest things to ever happen to the empire and responsible to bring many territories to the throne, he is also part of the harem. to think a powerful man like him left his own land to become a concubine for you is extraordinary, but worrying. none of them spoken, just keep staring at each other for minutes until the woman left the office without saying a word, but not before kissing your lips, it tasted like strawberries.

alone with the general, he step closer and guided your hand to his chest, letting you feel his heart skipping faster and faster just by your touch. his cheeks are burning red, an unlike view from the so called the coldest man of the empire, and when he opens his lips to speak, you can’t help but feel surprised.

“would i be selfish for asking to be the only one inside your heart? i can’t help myself when others talk with you, none of them deserve to be around you and touch you, but i do.” his face get closer, too closer to your lips. “give me a chance to show my love. give me a chance to be responsible for the first heir of the empire. let me be the father of your children and please, let me stay at your chambers every single night for the rest of our lives.”

@moonit3 writings

2K notes · View notes

anqelically · 24 days

Text

WHAT THEIR LOVE FEELS LIKE

FEATURING. yuta okkotsu, yuji itadori & megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS. gn!reader, fluff with a pinch of angst in yuji’s

NAVI | JJK MASTERLIST

loving YUTA OKKOTSU feels like enjoying a sweet piece of candy. you love the way he looks at you, eyes so full of love and admiration that they’ll almost burst. and as if how he looks at you is not enough, he makes sure to treat you like you deserve the world. thought through carefully, every action he takes for you is embedded with his endearment.

being in love with him makes you feel as if you’ve gotten a sugar rush. when the two of you spend time walking through parks, hand in hand, all yuta can do is try to match your energy.

you point out the flowers you find the most beautiful and, without missing a beat, yuta always picks them out for you. it’s a win-win because not only does it make your day, but it rewards him with your rejuvenating smile and a kiss on his cheek.

even when there’s a long distance between the two of you, he doesn’t fail to show his affection for you. through the small screen of your phone, yuta sends you his good morning and good night kisses. and when you call or text him and ramble about what you did that day, there’s always a small, sweet smile on his face, whether you see it or not.

it’s the type of love you would see on television when you were a child, almost fairytale-like. it made you excited for what was to come because even if you didn’t know what it was, you knew you had yuta on your side, holding you close.

being in love with YUJI ITADORI feels like rereading your favorite romance novel. yuji’s words and actions make your heart flutter, just like the book that sat right on your bedside dresser. if your happiness was one person, it would be him, without a doubt.

falling in love with yuji is sweet. you always admired him behind the scenes without him knowing. he treated everyone with kindness, even if he didn’t know them. and when he encountered those who were unkind, such as bullies, he gave them a taste of their own medicine without hesitation.

when you accidentally dropped a few mangas you were buying at the local bookstore, yuji was the only one to help you. he smiled kindly as he held your mangas, telling you that he’d carry them until you checked out. he’s a gentleman with the ability to make your heart skip a beat.

yuji knows how to treat you right, in his own, silly way. he’ll handpick you a few flowers, for example, though he’ll present the neat bouquet to you in his dirt-stained clothes. and when you’ve had a bad day, he’ll show up to your home and cook you a meal. you can only giggle when he presents you with an egg omelet with a large smiley face drawn in ketchup.

and like the main character in a story, he suddenly dropped out of school and moved to tokyo. he told you about the new curse that resided in him, and that he now had a bigger duty to fulfill. the thought of it saddened you, but you supported him.

through the few times you got to see him in person, the calls, and the messages, he always makes sure that you remember that he loves you. he holds your hand and kisses your lips like it’ll be his last. it feels as if it were straight out of a book. and because you’ve read it before, you already know the ending.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO’S love feels like enjoying a cup of soft-serve ice cream. although cold, it’s sweet once you get a taste of it. megumi certainly doesn’t look like the type when you first meet him, but he’s softer than you would think, especially when he has feelings for you.

he never went out of his way to speak with you when you first met. you were classmates who conflicted often due to different ideals and ways of doing things, so he opted to only speak to you when he needed to avoid any potential argument.

but when you risked your life to save his on a joint mission, he knew that it would only be rude for him to continue ignoring you. megumi checked in on you as you recovered from your wounds, and he helped you in the most subtle ways.

you were too kind, so much so that it reminded him of his own sister. you were so nice that it got you hurt often. even if the chances of you surviving a fight seemed slim, even if he told you to run away and stop being an idiot, you would choose to fight anyway.

and when you got scratches and minor wounds, he’d hold you gently as he bandaged you up. megumi would scold you for being so reckless, but you giggled because there was nobody more reckless than him.

the way he loves you is quiet, and sometimes his acts of service go unnoticed. but even if you don’t recognize it, he’ll do it again and again. megumi cares, and he doesn’t bother to announce it to the world because as long as you’re happy, he feels the same.

NOTE. i will definitely make a part 2 but with the jjk men trust !! and maybe a bsd ver :)

—reblog to support an author + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enoojnij @spenzitz @chuuyrr @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @osameowdazai @janbannan @little-miss-chaoss

641 notes · View notes

angelstate · 5 months

Text

“Unprioritized Love”

Husband!Price x Wife!Reader

Price is a loyal person, he thinks about everyone else before himself and doesn’t hesitate to do something he normally would be against if it means saving the people he cares for, it truly is a blessing at times, the way his priorities don’t falter…until they do.

because he is a loyal person but does not know or pretends not to know in which situations he should stand by one person instead of the other, it’s conflicting for him to choose someone when another person is also expecting his support.

it hurts a lot when you’re caught in that sort of situation with him, you’re his lover, his companion in life, and the person he returns home to, but you’re also the person he leaves behind for his team, you’re the one who waits around for him while the team gets him almost all the time.

and you know jealousy isn’t healthy, that you shouldn’t resent anyone because it's his job, he has to leave to provide for you, you cannot bite the hand that feeds you, it would be wrong, it wouldn’t be pretty, it wouldn’t be fair for him.

so you bite your tongue and nod like a child when he tells you about his job, about him going away once more, for longer this time. and the tears in your eyes are hard to be held back, because God, it hurts a lot to be left behind, all by yourself. away from your family and your lover, only an empty home to satisfy your basic needs.

He doesn’t mean to be an absent presence, the lack of a lover in your life. He truly doesn’t mean to give so little to you, to not hold you every night. but between his job and you…he knows which one he isn’t choosing even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

“I'll be back when I can, alright?” he speaks, voice gruff as he looks around the room, his hands on his hips, you stay seated on the couch, knees close to your chest and your eyes glued to the TV for a distraction, is better to pretend you don’t care than to show him how much you are beginning to hate the dynamic he created in your life.

“mhm” you hum in agreement, taking a big breath and holding it in before exhaling through your nose, not trusting that if you open your mouth, a sob wouldn’t escape, Price notices the lack of words from your part, you always have something to say, a small joke to make about him better bringing you a souvenir or something from his “trip” but when this time you don’t speak or even dare to look at him makes him anxious.

“Want me to bring you something?” he asks, taking a few steps towards you, looking towards the TV, a baking program playing, and your focus on the show makes him raise an eyebrow, you aren’t one to enjoy cooking so he doesn't understand why you’re watching it.

“no thanks” you respond, and the answer makes him feel like he’s done something wrong that made you upset, the last 4 days he’s been home replaying in his mind, trying to remember what could’ve made you get angry with him, nothing comes to mind sadly, and he feels clueless about everything surrounding you.

“I thought you don’t like cooking” He decides to comment, shifting the conversation to something more banal and easy to speak about. “I started baking almost 8 months ago” you answer him back, voice flat and your eyes strained on the TV, the recipe to make pavlova having your main focus, it makes Price frustrated, how you won’t look at him, won’t give him the time of day when he’s leaving tomorrow.

you don’t expect him to know how your life develops and the things that change when he's away most of the time, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to pay you attention when he already has a tough and complicated job to do, his salary pays for the kitchen supplies and food after all. it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to know you... god, how stupid is that?

“You didn’t tell me” Price states, his voice carrying a heaviness that reveals he is irritated about not being told something he should’ve known if he paid attention to the new things in the kitchen like the stand mixer next to the electric oven.

“I thought I mentioned it when I gave you to try the brownies I made yesterday” you retort, your eyes landing on him for a second before returning to the TV, your gaze isn’t welcoming or warm and it creates a pit on his stomach to see you so detached and unresponsive to something he knew should make you upset.

It brings a sort of heaviness to his chest as he notices he doesn’t have the right to feel offended about not being told something when you should be upset about him not noticing in the first place something that occurred in his own home. It is hypocritical and he knows it.

Price stays silent for a long time, the sound of the TV filling in the silence that was created between the two of you, he feels out of place, not knowing how to answer you, what to do, what is the problem he feels he should be fixing right now.

“you should start packing” you comment after almost five minutes, and that phrase is said with a monotone tone, not one of sadness or a little bit of frustration that he’s leaving again, it's a tone that just states the obvious, you declare that he should pack his bag once more because otherwise he would leave with nothing for his mission and that wouldn’t be optimal.

“Can you help me pack?” He asks for a favor you often offer without him mentioning wanting your help. tonight you don’t offer assistance, almost like you aren’t faced by his departure, used to his absence, used to his side of the bed being empty.

“I’m watching TV” you speak and his heart breaks a little bit, you don’t sound apologetic as you often do when you’re not able to help him, and he’s leaving but he feels you left instead, that the girl he married is no longer in the house even though he has you in front of him, too focused on looking at the tv to help him.

he nods at your answer and doesn’t try to persuade you into doing something you don’t want to, it wouldn’t be fair to force you to help him just because he wants you to, it isn’t fair for you to give a hand and for him to take your arm. Loving someone isn’t really fair.

Only when he leaves the living room to go pack do your tears make their way out of your eyes, running down your cheeks as you cry silently, vision too blurry to even distinguish the images on the TV, it feels almost pathetic to be crying alone, your lover packing to leave and not be able to bring yourself to help him abandon you once again.

If you were his pet it would be abuse for him to just leave, but you're a woman and therefore being alone and left behind isn’t unexpected, being the one to stay home is almost an obligation when your lover leaves to provide for you even if you wish they stayed.

you’re not sure how it begins to be fair to be put in this situation, when the missions of 4 weeks turned into 4 months. When knowing everything about each other turned into barely remembering anniversaries and birthdays.

You don’t want to say the relationship fell apart because you doubt there’s anything at all to be destroyed anymore, you love him though, the pain in your chest and the tears falling from your eyes are proof of that, but you are not sure John loves you.

It’s uncertain how he views you after not spending time together for almost two years, you doubt there is nothing more than just an acknowledgment of your existence in his life, a statement that he knows you're his partner but not enough love to call you his lover.

“Why are you crying darling?” the sudden voice of Price pulls you out of your thoughts, the place next to you on the couch sinking as he takes a sit beside you, resting his elbows on his knees while his eyes examine your expression, you look utterly distraught about something, your breathing uneven and shaky as you begin to sob loudly, unable to talk as all your emotions came crashing down.

and the sight of you crying, digging your nails into your thighs, and being desperate for a peace that will not come, makes a heavy feeling of guilt and worry sit on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist and another under your knees, bringing you into his lap and putting your face on the crook of his neck while you cried, sobs muffled against his skin, your tears wetting his shirt.

“take a deep breath love” Price says in your ear, your breathing so erratic that it makes him worried you will suffocate at some point because of the lack of oxygen in your body, he feels your chest against him as you do as he told you, taking deep breaths the best you can, trying to calm down for your and his sake.

you’ve never been one to cry with so much despair, to need his comfort in times of need because you managed well on your own, he was never around to solve your sorrow either so why bother? But today, he is the reason you're crying and it seems fair that he is the one to comfort you, that your only chore is to cry and keep your breathing somewhat stable while he does everything else to fix what he broke.

He doesn't know where to begin though, unaware of where he stands or what he should do to bring peace into your mind, what words will fix his mistake, and what words will tear you apart even more, he doesn’t want to cause you harm, not consciously, not right now. it wouldn’t be fair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to your heart, it would be cruel. and he doesn’t want to be cruel to you, not anymore.

“I’m sorry love…I should’ve been good to you” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, rocking you back and forth on his lap, soothing you like he would to a child, his voice low and soft, his hand caressing your thighs in a comforting manner.

“I don’t know why I didn’t notice that you started baking, it was wrong, I didn’t notice you when I should’ve noticed every change you’ve had over the last two years” he continuous, speaking out the guilt he carried in his chest the moment he saw you and heard you break down into tears, your sobs engraved in his mind.

“I’m really sorry for missing out on all of this when I was gone, I shouldn’t have been such a bad husband, you don’t deserve that” he sighs, his eyes stinting a little bit from the tears beginning to form, and your calmer now, sniffling and whimpering, the tears slowly stopping, but it seems that your distraught was transferred to him because he doesn’t feel at ease, he feels the guilt eat him alive while he soothes you.

“I don't want you to leave…” you mumble, adjusting on his lap, your head resting against his chest, you have never wanted him to leave home, to go on missions for months on end with little to no contact with your lover, it feels like you're mourning him every time he goes away and doesn’t give you a small message to let you know he wasn’t killed.

“I know sweet girl” he replies, he doesn’t want to leave either, he never wants to, even though he continues to do so. It's a complicated situation, one he doesn’t dare to think about too much because he’ll end up ripping his heart out, his loyalty not being able to distribute equally for you and his team, always the latter winning even if he doesn’t dare to admit it.

he wants to promise you he’ll return quickly this time and will take a leave just to spend time with you, to dedicate more time to what's left of your relationship, he doesn’t want your marriage to fail, you’re the only woman he wants, the only one he had ever seen himself grow old together, he doesn’t want to let that go because of his own stupid and selfish mistakes.

He has to leave tomorrow, but when he’s back he’ll fix everything.

“I'll be back soon” he mumbles against your hair, face buried in it as breathes in your smell, trying to engrave it in his mind, to not forget this time details about you he has always loved.

Thankfully, his promise becomes reality, and after two weeks of loneliness that have never felt heavier on your chest, he returns, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile on his lips, happy to see you, to see the warmth and loving gaze you always give him back in your eyes after all this time.

He steps through the door, your face pressed against his chest, refusing to let go of him, fearing he would leave even if it wasn’t unreasonable, he had returned early for you, he had seen his mistakes and was fixing what never should’ve been broken

Peace is restored in your home, love is flourishing once again in your marriage, and whatever plans you had made to start over get discarded, you’re already having a fresh start, one that doesn’t involve leaving your lover. this time is a start with a more conscious man who is ready to do everything right by you, to never let his job affect the way he loves you. He's learning that his wife comes first, that his life outside of the military also has the same and more importance than his job.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you want me to write something specific xx)

761 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month

Note

Keep hearing people say maribug keep asking adricat if he's ok and he keep saying he's ok instead of telling her his problem but I don't remember it happened more than once in s4 in Rockettear but even then the circumstances of that episode did warrant the "nothing" answer he gave her unless he want to tell her that "nino tell me you let nino and alya know each other identity" which will reveal adricat identity. So when else did she ask? about the thing in hack-san, I think another credit goes to alya since she's the one who bring the topic to maribug who seems to be blissfully unaware that her leaving without telling adeicat that she send subtitute would be a problem.

I didn't get into this side of things in my other post because it was long and I wanted to focus on why Chat Noir's behavior was so frustrating, but this ask brings up the other big reason why the season four conflict was such a frustrating and terribly written plot line. Specifically, the part of your ask where you point out that Maribug seems blissfully unaware that her actions are having a negative impact on Chat Noir until someone points it out to her.

Yes, she is presented as blissfully unaware of this and every other interpersonal conflict we're given in season four. Your ask treats this as a failing on Maribug's part as if she should have obviously realized that she was in the wrong, but that's the whole problem. Telling kids - telling anyone really - that they should just magically know what others need is a frankly terrible life lesson as that's just not how the world works. You cannot just assume that everyone will have the same view of the world as you do and instantly pick up on the same issues as you do. That is the path to easily avoidable frustration and conflict. It also teaches people to assume that their view of the world is inherently correct when that is rarely the case. We often don't know the whole story and the other person's point of view may end up being equally or even more valid. This issue is extremely present in season four as Marinette has legitimate reasons to behave the way she does, which I'll get into in a bit.

If Marinette were written as feeling guilty about how she was treating Chat Noir, then this would be a different story. She'd be way more in the wrong and would shoulder a much greater portion of the blame. But as is? She has no idea that she's doing anything wrong. And until someone takes the time to tell her that her actions are causing harm, she is going to continue causing harm because she has no idea that she's causing harm.

In fact, I'd argue that the Alya thing in Hack San is a point in Maribug's favor. Throughout the episode, we see Marinette sending Alya messages on ways to be a good partner to Chat Noir, proving that she does in fact care about him. And then, as soon as Alya says, "You need to talk to Chat Noir," what does Maribug do?

She goes and talks to Chat Noir, giving him a pretty good apology for the problem she now knows she caused. Because, shockingly, Maribug doesn't actually want to hurt her partner. She also clearly cares about his feelings, making me want to take the season four conflict and tear it into itty bitty pieces because what is the conflict even supposed to be when you write shit like this?

I want to briefly step away from Miraculous and talk about this issue in a broader context via this YouTube short:

This short is from a Vietnamese woman who moved to Germany. Her YouTube channel is about her experiences there, including things like the short above which goes into the differences between what it means to be a dinner guest in Vietnam and what it means to be a dinner guest in Germany. In Vietnam, it's apparently standard for the guests to cook dinner with you where as, in Germany, you're expected to have the meal ready when the guests arrive, making this a situation where it's super easy to come across as rude just by doing what you think is normal.

Society is relatively aware that these types of culture clashes are a thing, but you don't have to be from different cultures to have these types of situations. Every person has their own unique needs and ideas of what "normal" is. The culture they were raised in will affect this, but so will their family, their personal needs, and many other factors. Two people can be raised on the same street and wind up with wildly different world views even though they supposedly share a culture. This is extra true when you add in compounding factors like neurodiversity, which is why it's an exercise in futility to say, "But Maribug should have realized..."

Well, she clearly didn't. And you can't change that she didn't realize whatever you're mad about. All you can do is have someone tell her what she's doing wrong. If she then continues the behavior, go ahead and judge away. But if she immediately corrects it like she did in Hack San? Doesn't that just prove that she truly didn't know that Chat Noir was hurting and would have probably fixed all of his problems if someone just pointed them out to her?

This is only exacerbated by the fact that Marinette's behavior in season four is largely unchanged from her behavior in previous seasons. The only major change is that she revealed her identity to Alya, but as soon as that's pointed out as a problem, she course corrects with an apology. After that, she thinks that everything is okay because why wouldn't she? Chat Noir said it was fine and everything else has been business as usual.

Bringing temp heroes into help as needed? That's been going on since season two. Having these additional members has been vital in multiple battles and there have been plenty of times where Chat Noir took a background role to the temp hero of the day like in Sapotis, Rena Rouge's season two debut. So why would Maribug suddenly think that this dynamic is a problem when it's been working fine for so long? We even had a whole episode about how Chat Noir was still needed in spite of the new heroes back in season three! Or, at least, I think that was Desperada's message? This show is shockingly bad at giving clear lessons.

Keeping guardian knowledge from Chat Noir? That's also been going on since season two and was even treated as a conflict that supposedly got resolved in the episode Syren which was the episode that ended with Master Fu coming to the mansion to talk to Adrien after everything was over.

When I watched that episode, I assumed this meant that Chat Noir was going to be more involved in things like picking the temp heroes. I actually thought this was how we were going to get Queen Bee because I knew she was going to be a thing, but it made no sense for Marinette to pick Chloe for a miraculous. Of course, I was wrong. Nothing changed after Syren. Chat Noir remained nothing more than the comic relief while Ladybug got all the insider info.

To be clear, I think that was a terrible move writing wise, but it doesn't change the fact that this is what they went with. This is the established dynamic. I can't even say that Alya learning Marinette's secret led to something new. She's just taken Marinette's old role while Marinette has taken on Master Fu's old role. This show loves it's status quo and Chat Noir has been at least tolerant of that status quo since Syren, so it's not surprising that Maribug doesn't register that this is a thing that should change and no one bothers to point it out to her even though she has a mentor in Tikki (and Su Han, I guess?) and a confidant in Alya and a whole slew of Kwamis who could also provide insight if they were allowed to do that sort of thing. (Sass and Wayzz were robbed of mentor roles.) Additional blame goes to Plagg because he should absolutely have told Adrien to talk to Ladybug. What is the point of giving these characters mentors who never mentor? It's aggravating in the extreme.

To circle back to the first part of your ask, outside of Hack San and Rocketear, I don't think there are any times when Ladybug invites feedback from Chat Noir unless you want to give credit to the end of Kuro Neko:

Cat Noir: (lands next to her) I've been a really temperamental kitty, m'lady. I didn't realize how much trouble I'd make for you by giving back my Miraculous. Ladybug: (sits closer to him) Just because I don't need you all the time doesn't mean that I don't need you at all, Cat Noir. No one could ever replace you.

Which isn't Maribug inviting him to tell her what's up, but she is clearly willing to listen to him and reassure him, further backing up my point about this conflict being some of the worst writing I've ever had to suffer through. If Maribug always fixes the issue as soon as she learns about it, you are not writing a situation where she's clearly in the wrong. You are writing an easily solved communication issue where she gets blamed for something she clearly doesn't realize she's doing wrong and it is so frustrating!!! I feel so bad for her. The next episode is Penalteam, btw, which starts the battle with this gem:

Ladybug: (laughs) Nice scare tactics, but it's not gonna work. Cat Noir and I are the best at soccer! Cat Noir: (Whispers to Ladybug) I don't know a thing about soccer M'lady. Maybe it's time to call the real team?

And basically just spends the whole episode making Chat Noir seems like a worthless partner while Maribug tries her best to make him - and everyone else - feel special.

Oh, and the episode before Kuro Neko? Well, it's technically Ephemeral, but that got magically overwritten so let's go one further back and we get to Dearest Family, which ends with this:

Cat Noir: (grabs a golden paper crown on the coffee table) Since I'm the king, (wears the crown on his head) would you be my queen, Ladybug? Ladybug: With pleasure, kitty cat! Tradition is tradition!

Oh yes, these two are in such conflict and Maribug does nothing to validate Chat Noir. He's in pain every episode and she's just totally oblivious to it.

If that was what they wrote, then I'd probably agree that we needed more instances of her asking if Chat Noir was okay. But it's not what they wrote. If you look through the list of season four episodes, you'll find that less than half of them deal with the supposed conflict of the season (by my count, only 8 of the 24 episodes before the final actually showcase the conflict and they are not in a logical order in terms of escalation as I tried to demonstrate above). The rest of the episodes flat out ignore it or even straight up work against the conflict like when Ladybug says this to Chat Noir in Guilttrip: "I probably don't tell you this enough, but I couldn't do this without you. And it'd be a lot less fun too."

Seriously, what even is this season? What is the conflict supposed to be? Because it sure as shit isn't Maribug undervaluing Chat Noir, if memory servers, season four sees her validate him more times than any other season. And it isn't her guiltily hiding things from him like so many fanfics claim because we have multiple points of evidence that prove that she's completely oblivious that there even is a conflict. So what conflict are the writers actually trying to write?

What's even more baffling is that none of this logically leads to the loss at the end of the season:

Maribug's new secrets didn't lead to her downfall. The only reason she lost was because of the secret that's always been there - a fact that's never revealed to her - and a freaking evil twin! So why did it matter that Maribug was keeping secrets? This is made even worse by season five maintaining all of the secrets, once again begging the question of what lesson were we trying to teach here???

Chat Noir wasn't needed for the final fight of the season, Maribug only needed the powers of a few of the temp heroes to win, a baffling ending to a season whose focus was Chat Noir feeling unimportant. You could scrap that conflict entirely and the ending would not change. In fact....

Adrien quitting to be nothing more than a good little boy who obeys his father would have actually saved the world from eventually being rewritten. If you think about it, the season four final actually punishes Adrien for being defiant. So does season five as, if Chat Noir had quit, his father would still be alive. I thought this show was supposed to be a romcom, not a tragedy. Why is Adrien being punished for being a hero? Is this supposed to be karma for lying to Ladybug with the whole Catwalker thing?

This shit is why I say I'm a writing salt, character sugar blog. I can't get mad at the characters when they're in such a nonsense story where things never logically tie together. They all deserve so much better.

None of this is meant to imply that ignorance is a blanket excuse for hurting others. Nor is it meant to imply that you have to forgive someone who hurt you just because they didn't mean to. There's a ton of nuance around these topics. But season four acknowledges none of that nuance while creating a situation that desperately needed nuance because there was no clear right and wrong here. Should Maribug work to be more aware of others feelings? Sure, but that journey can only start after she's made aware of her faults and no one ever points them out to her. Does Chat Noir need to work on clearly communicating his needs? Desperately, but no one is teaching him that lesson so he remains a terrible communicator who suffers in silence. What impressively bad writing.

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better #kuro neko salt #my queendom for some good character arcs #and good story arcs #there's just so much squandered potential here #ml fandom salt #ml fandom critical #Adding those tags because I am sick of people holding Marinette to unrealistic expectations #This was long so I didn't add this part of the rant but:#It's important to remember how much we know as an audience vs what Maribug knows #Adrichat is really good at putting up a front that everything is fine #And Marinette knows nothing about his homelife when he's Chat Noir #Plus the show has made this kids kinda terrible at understanding Adrien's home life

451 notes · View notes

viiiiiiiiiin · 4 months

Text

How they confess their feelings to you !! (PT. 1)

Includes: Luffy , Zoro , Usopp , Sanji , Nami , Robin , Franky , Brook , Jinbe.

Pt. 1 (Here) , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3

Masterlist

Strawhat: Monkey D. Luffy

He didn't understand that he was in love with you. He thought he just really liked you as a best friend.

He's never been in a relationship. He hasn't thought of being in one once. He's focused on making his dreams come true , along with his crewmates. And you , of course.

He brought this up to Robin and asked for some advice. When she told gim that he was , indeed , in love with you , he didn't know how to continue.

Did he want a relationship ? Did he want to risk your life ? Did you even want to be in a relationship with you ?

He ended up accidently avoiding you while pondering his decision. He didn't realize how much it hurt you until you confronted him.

He finally nonchalantly asked you to be his significant other while eating , shocking the entire crew (and you).

While everyone stopped eating , screamed in shock , or stared at you (or him) , you just stared.

Eventually , you smiled and accepted his confession.

Pirate Hunter: Roronoa Zoro

Like his captain , he didn't understand that he was in love with you. He didn't understand why he wanted to share sake with you , workout with you , and sit next to you everytime you guys ate. He didn't understand why his heart fluttered when he was around you.

He assumed it was because he found you to be better company than the rest of the crew.

But he got worried once his heart started skipping beats and he'd get red around you. He brought his concern up to Chopper , who laughed and explained that he was in love with you.

He was shocked. He didn't even think he could love , honestly.

He started avoiding you in hopes that his feelings would drift away.

But they didn't.

In fact , he became more infatuated and it infuriated him.

He finally confronted you about it when you came to visit him while he was working out. He told you everything he had been feeling , angrily at that , and felt flustered afterwards. He didn't mean to share all of that.

You laughed and told you felt the same way. That was the day you two agreed to be in a relationship.

God: Usopp

Absolute train wreck. He realized he caught feelings for you pretty quick. He's conflicted because of his past relationship with Kaya.

He thinks you won't like a coward like him , so he tries to wait it out.

He tells Nami about it and asks her for some advice. (He pays her to keep it a secret).

She gives him advice. She tells him to try for you , that you don't see him as a coward. You'd love him either way. He didn't believe her , obviously. Why would someone as strong and as stunning as you go for a wimp like him ?

But , he remembered. He's gonna be a brave warrior of the sea one day , like the Giants. Confessing his love to you , in his eyes , got him a step closer to being braver.

Eventually , he picks some flowers from the garden to make a bouquet. He hands it to you while sputtering about how he loves you and wants you to be his significant other (his face is COMPLETELY) red.

When you say yes , his face lights up. He didn't realize how much anxiety this had given him until you relieved him.

He immediately squeezed you and laughed.

Blackleg: Vinsmoke Sanji

He didn't understand why he wanted to make you smile more than Robin or Nami. Male , female , nonbinary , whatever. He found himself drifting over to you no matter the circumstance.

He'd always find a way to have you in the kitchen with him , or just around him. He'd always volunteer to go with you on islands , take you shopping , etc.

Nami and Robin noticed how he paid more attention to you compared to them.

They decided to play wingwomen.

They started "accidently" leaving you two alone together. They would also talk to each of you about the other to see how you two felt about one another.

Then they would go to each other and tell the other what they found out.

Eventually , they took everyone's dinner out of the kitchen and left your plate and Sanji's plate.

Sanji sat there with you , flustered and quiet. Eventually , he blurted out that he loved you and wanted to be with you. Once he realized what he said , he was embarrassed.

But to his surprise , you told him you felt the same !

Devil's Child: Nico Robin

She realized immediately and wasn't shy about expressing how she felt about you.

She watched you from afar , observing stuff that you enjoy to do and stuff you like.

When she figured that she gathered enough knowledge , she put her plan to work.

She asked Sanji to set up your dinner and her dinner in a seperate room with a candle and a rose.

He complied without question.

She led you into the room and ate dinner with you.

When the 'date' was ended , she confessed her love for you bluntly.

It made you red , but you told her you felt the same (to her amusement).

Cyborg: Franky

He also immediately realized he was in love with you. Instead of telling you , he began showing acts of "kindness".

He would give you little trinkets , always show you his inventions first , make you new weapons , and so much more.

Robin noticed. She brought it up to him and turned him SUPERRR red.

She laughed and told him to just tell you.

He did. He listened to her. While showing you a new invention , he confessed his love for you.

When you accepted , he was surprised but laughed. He patted your back and embraced you.

He has your anniversary date engraved in General Franky . . .

Soul King: Brook

Like Robin , he realized immediately and wasn't shy at all. In fact , you didn't even realize.

Even if you were biologically male , he would still ask to see your undergarments. Even if you said no , he would laugh and play you a tune.

He would always being his new songs to you first. He even accidently wrote a love song while thinking of you.

He still showed it to you. He thought you wouldn't notice it was about you , but you did.

You asked him , and he stared at you in shock. Ashamed , he confessed that it was about you.

To his surprise , you told him you felt the same. You found his advances adorable !

He was ecstatic ! He even asked to see your underwear right after lol.

First Son of the Sea: Jinbe

He denied his feelings at first but soon came to accept them.

He was extremely nervous about it. He would always turn pink around you and stumble over his words.

He's a man of honor , so he confessed to you anyways.

It happened whenever you guys docked st an island. He found a fancy restaurant and booked a reservation for the both of you. He asked you to accompany him and you agreed.

He brought flowers and dressed in his best outfit for you. When you came , he handed you the flowers and brought you to the table.

After dinner , he confessed his love for you. He couldn't make eye contact with you. He was just terrified about you saying no because he's a Fishman.

But you didn't. You said you felt the same way. His heart soared and he smiled widely.

690 notes · View notes

fyorina · 3 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

822 notes · View notes