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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR NINETEEN

in which everything changes.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (p in v), almost shower sex, talk of male masturbation, oral (f receiving), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.7k+

→ a/n: big shout out to @myosotisa for beta-reading this chapter so that for once, it's not unedited, and it's not just between me and god.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

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19:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

DINGUS: so either these two are getting along REALLY well or they truly still hate each other’s guts

NANCE: Why do you say that?

DINGUS: when i called to make sure they weren’t dead, it sounded like they were arguing over the line.

BIRDIE: woah woah woah, hold on. dingus. are you telling me you just SPIED on the lovebirds? or did this ‘fight’ happen during your conversation?

DINGUS: it wasn’t spying! eddie answered and rushed off the line, but it sounded like he forgot to hang up. i was just… curious.

NANCE: No, you were SPYING on them.

ARGYLE 😎: what did they say, dude?

BIRDIE: yeah let’s drop the morality bullshit – what’d you hear, my lovely oblivious spy?

DINGUS: @BIRDIE NOT A SPY.

DINGUS: but it just sounded like eddie asking her if she was, and i quote, “fucking kidding him”. He sounded weird when he was talking to me, too.

BIRDIE: the most romantic words to ever be spoken. truly.

NANCE: Was that all you heard?

DINGUS: yeah, i hung up after that. why?

ARGYLE 😎: should’ve stayed on the line.

BIRDIE: what he said.

JOHNNY BOY: Do you people have no morals?

HOUR NINETEEN – 10:00 AM

It becomes glaringly obvious to you that your comment had been a little too spot on after several minutes of waiting for Eddie to return.

You hadn’t expected him to really leave you high and dry after that, to just go and take care of himself rather than include you in that process. Honestly, you thought the two of you were finally past hiding behind closed doors. But clearly, you had been wrong. Very, very wrong. And now, the consequences of your own actions were mocking you; there was an insistent, uncomfortable, unignorable burn in the pit of your stomach, and every shift of your thighs that had your underwear grazing your clit had you desperate, nearly mewling and arching your back. The longer you laid on that couch and realized what Eddie was currently doing, the more hot and bothered you grew.

Fuck him. You’re about ten seconds away from taking care of your own problem right here, right now, on this god forsaken couch.

Your ears perk involuntarily for any and all noises that may come from the hallway, but five minutes of silence tells you that Eddie had learned his lesson. He wasn’t going to be loud again.

Fuck him.

At least if he was falling apart by his own hand, he should have the decency to let you hear such, obviously. If he was going to finish what the two of you started alone with just him and his hand and the polished porcelain of his bathroom, you would have at least appreciated something to get you going, to urge your imagination to roam free through a conglomeration of both fantasies and memories. But, no – the man was so silent, you were beginning to fear he might be dead.

Maybe he was dead. Death by blue balls. Good. Fuck him.

Your thighs squeeze together once more of their own free will, and you throw your head back violently to groan at the persistent throbbing. You couldn’t even be angry at him, not in a genuine sense, because you had insisted on talking rather than continuing whatever Deftones had started. What a dumb, idiotic, catastrophic decision. What a painful hill to die on. What a shit move on your part.

It doesn’t take long before you make the choice to stop laying there, wallowing in your misery. If you weren’t going to take care of your problem, and if you were regretting your choices so desperately, you were an adult. He was down the hall, he was here for now, and there was nothing stopping you from just marching up to the door. This wasn’t anything like the beginning hours – the man had seen you bare before him far too many times for you to be shy. He had just been dry humping you like some teenager on his couch.

No, you didn’t need to have shame right now. At least, not for these last five hours.

You get up quick enough to make yourself dizzy, swinging your legs and making the soles of your feet connect with the living room floor with resounding slaps. A bit aggressive, and it might startle whoever had the displeasure of living below Eddie, but you don’t care. You have a one track mind, and you force your body into action before you can chicken out.

You have him. At some wild capacity, the man behind the bathroom door is yours. Whether it be temporary, whether it had started before this night or would last beyond this experience, it was still a matter of fact. You have him – God, you have him so tightly that you don’t even doubt you’re the one on his mind right now as he does what you’re sure he’s doing behind this door – and it was time to accept that he has you.

He has had you for a while, you realize a few steps away from the bathroom. The moment he had you laughing at his side in some smokey bar all those moons ago, he had first caught you in his web. You hate that it took this long, that it took this moment that should be laced with embarrassment, to let it all settle into acceptance. Like rubble of a destroyed building, the dust is clearing and all you can see is him. Him, with his stupid fucking dimples. Him, with his wide shoulders. Him, with all his twisted words and confusing actions. He’s had you in his grasp – it’s the only way anyone would have been able to get under your skin like he has this past year.

“Eddie?” you call out as you rap your knuckles on that wooden door, a few too many times for good measure. Your ears strain now that you’re closer, thinking you might catch subtle sounds out of him. Heavy breaths, slick skin, mute whimpers. Anything.

You get nothing for a solid ten seconds.

And then, you hear him clearing his throat, obnoxiously so, before answering, “Y-Yeah?”

Unsure. He’s stuttering, and the footing of his words is unstable. You were fucking right.

“Are you…” you start, pinching your eyes shut, shooing away that internal wave of heat as your mind runs wild and imagines him behind the door. The way he’d be naked, the way his fist would curl around the base of his cock, the way his tip has never failed to be the exact same shade of pink as his lips- “Are you still alive in there?”

Because I’m certainly not out here.

“Oh, me?” he chuckles nervously, “Yeah, I-I’m good. Sorry, just got distracted!”

By what? you nearly call in response, your dick in your hands?

You don’t say it outloud. You have some restraint.

“That’s fine…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you should say all while biting your tongue.

Your mind is still reeling for a possible ending for that thought when Eddie calls out, “I’m gonna take a shower, ‘s all. You cool with that?”

No. No, I’m not fucking cool with that.

“Oh!” you squeak out instead, “Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s fine. Sorry, I’ll just…”

You trail off again as you begin to take a few steps back from the door, making your way back to the living room painstakingly slowly. You’ve hardly moved an inch when you hear the shower turn on inside the bathroom, stuttering a few times as the water begins its flow, static rising from the way it splatters into the tub.

And then it turns off. Mere seconds later, as quickly as the flow of water had begun, the creaking in the pipes cease. You take another step back until your back bumps into the wall of the hallway, across and veered away from the bathroom door – the throbbing between your thighs still irritating and your confusion even more palpable.

Wasn’t he going to take a shower? Did he just turn it on to get you to walk away? Were you hallucinating just how quickly the seconds were passin-

The bathroom door is suddenly thrown open with Eddie in the middle of calling out your name, those pajama pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The moment his eyes land on your, his beckoning for you dies in his throat before he has to clear it. “Oh. Uh, hey.”

Why were you both being so fucking awkward?

“Hi,” you breathe out, pressing further into the wall. You felt like a child being caught doing wrong, as if he hadn’t been aware of your proximity to the door just moments before.

Maybe he was going to find it creepy that you had lingered for so long, and were still so close. You don’t know – you can’t think clearly as you look at the bare skin of his chest and try to decipher whether the moisture gathered there is sweat or condensation from the steam of the shower.

“Sorry, I just-” he cuts himself off this time before a hand reaches up to his hair, now down and unfurled around his shoulders. His palm presses back his bangs and you can see the moment that all the tension of awkwardness finally snaps, “Oh, fuck this. Do you want to shower with me?”

Once it snaps for him, you feel your own clinging to it release. It slips from between your fingers slowly, and you come to the realization that there’s no heat emitting from the bathroom behind him – that moisture wasn’t from steam, he didn’t even have the water on long enough for it to get that hot. You should have realized that immediately, but your mind was working slowly through the fog.

“You don’t have to,” you hadn’t answered him fast enough, and you’re watching him backpedal right before your eyes.

A quick shake of your head and the smile that splits your lips stops all of his backwards movements, makes his head tilt to the side and a smirk graces his features when you finally reply, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He shifts to the side of the doorway naturally, leaving just enough room for you to brush past him and let your shoulder knock slightly against his chest once you push off the wall eagerly.

There’s still a puddle of water at the base of the tub, circling the drain as Eddie closes the door behind your entrance. It’s a bit redundant considering you’re the only two here, but you don’t say a word. You just let your eyes trace over the droplets of water racing down his shower curtain, properly focus in on his toothbrush on the sink and the tube of toothpaste beside it curled up over half the length.

It hits you all at once, how this game of tension is so ridiculous. “We’re so stupid.”

Eddie is shocked by your snort, “Excuse me?”

“We’re stupid,” you repeat yourself, “Why are we acting like middle schoolers who just held hands? You’ve seen me naked, for fucks sake. We’ve-” you cut off and turn to him abruptly, waving your hands wildly in the space between you two, “We’ve already crossed this line a million times, Eddie. And we just… it’s like, we keep putting one foot on the other side of it, dip our toes into it, and then take it back when it’s all said and done.”

A boring dance. The two of you were taking part in the most boring dance of tension the world had ever seen, and only the four walls of Eddie’s apartment had the pleasure of being audience to it.

You expect his laughter to come out in a bark, but it’s subtle instead, face relaxing in realization at what you mean, “Jesus. I- I mean, you’re right. But does that make us stupid? I think it’s kinda cute, personally.”

“Cute?” you lurch forward ever so slightly, grinning with your teeth. Eddie’s eyes squint up a bit from how widely he grins in return at your amusement, “What about this is cute?”

“The way you keep getting so nervous around me,” Eddie shrugs, killing off the distance between you as he moves in front of you. You straighten up quickly, and he’s fast to tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “The way I keep getting so nervous around you.”

“That’s not cute, that’s just… stupid.”

“Same thing.”

“It definitely isn’t.”

You’re close enough to kiss him. And you realize easily that this may be your favorite place in the world, toe-to-toe with him and nearly brushing noses, feeling each breath like a huff of wind on the highs of your cheekbones.

“Agree to disagree,” he whispers before his lips duck down to yours. The hand that had tucked away your strands of hair had never left your face, you realize, palm now cupping your cheek as he tugs you closer to him.

Warmth spreads across your chest, brings spring to all the vines you’ve been catering to for a year now. Being able to step back and call this for what it was, ridiculous, makes it all a bit easier to bear.

It’s just his lips against yours, the shower not even running yet, the gasps that emit from both of you serving as a white noise instead.

“Is this,” he breaks away from you, only pulling back his lips and leaving his forehead resting against yours with his hand still curled on your cheek, “still stupid?”

“Even more so,” you nod and he moves his head with yours, almost making you laugh more, “So, so stupid.”

More kisses are exchanged, wandering hands trying to find new curves on the other’s body, before Eddie goes through the motions of turning his shower back on. You notice that from the looks of it, he does turn it on as hot as it can get. It occurs to you that these are small details you’d like to know – how hot he prefers his showers, whether he prefers to take them in the morning or at night, what scent of body wash he swears by – and that you only had so much time to learn the answer to not even half of your curiosities.

Time. Time was not on your side.

“You know,” you drawl as Eddie finally kicks off his pants, you soon following his lead as if this was nothing. Because it wasn’t. The two of you had been naked before each other. You weren’t two middle schoolers who had just shared a first kiss or held hands – you were two adults who had had sex, who had admitted to being attracted to each other if nothing more, “You never did say what you’re actually doing with the money.”

“Again with that conversation?” Eddie asks, pausing with his thumbs hooked in the band of his boxers.

“Again,” you affirm, tossing your shirt into the same corner that his pants had been discarded, “Can you blame me for being curious? Aren’t you curious what I’m doing with my money?”

He thinks for a second as you strip off your underwear, leaving you completely naked first. “I mean, I sort of am.”

“College,” you supply easily. You don’t even wait for him to properly ask. He purses his lips and you catch the way his eyes sweep over your nude body quickly before he yanks off his last article of clothing, “College, and then all my debt. Then maybe I can start saving like a real adult. Move to some fancy city once I graduate. Make a…” you pause and make a conscious effort to not let your eyes wander as his had, “Make a real life for myself, I guess.”

“You sound so excited.”

He’s being sarcastic, you know it, but it begs the question – were you excited about the prospective? All you had ever known was school. Your entire personality has been built thus far on being a student.

So what comes next? Settling into some boring nine to five job that hardly satisfies the dreams that were born of your major? Getting underpaid, getting bored with monotony but telling yourself you were satisfied?

And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the bigger questions of the future. You haven’t even spared a thought to kids, to getting married, to life past the next two years.

“I mean… I am,” you shrug and step into the shower first, Eddie following close behind you and listening intently, “It’ll be nice to finally have the damn piece of paper to say ‘hey! I did it!’”

“But?” he presses, scooting the two of you around in the small space so that he was standing directly beneath the spray of water. His curls flatten against his head immediately.

“No buts,” you insist. As if you’re trying to convince yourself more of it than him.

“So that’s all? You just want to get out of here?” he isn’t looking at you as he reaches for a bottle of shampoo, blinking water out of his eyes.

This conversation is going surprisingly well.

“Not here specifically,” you clarify. Your chest aches at the thought of just leaving behind all the friends you’d made, the life you had started in this city. The thought of already beginning to preemptively tear it down was enough to dampen your mood worse than the steam of the shower was doing to your hair, “I don’t know. Who cares about the future? What are you doing with your money?”

He’s about to squirt some of the shampoo into the palm of his hand when you suddenly snatch it from him, holding up a finger and twirling it in a demanding manner. He’s shocked, but he turns for you regardless, even bending his knees as he gets the message.

He doesn’t question the fact that you’re about to wash his hair. No protests towards something so domestic between previously sworn enemies.

“I wasn’t lying earlier,” he starts just as you have lathered up your palms and set aside the shampoo on the shower ledge, fingertips digging right into his scalp. Even with the slight bend in his posture, your arms have to stretch to reach the crown of his head, “A new bike or guitar would be nice but– Oh,” a particular scratch of your nails has him faltering in his words, throwing his head back a bit more and humming. The throb, the ache, the burn returns. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Keep talking, pretty boy,” you murmur as he hums even louder.

“Well, I… It’s not a lot of money, y’know? I mean, it is. But it also isn’t. Am I making any sense? Fuck, that feels good,” he stumbles across his point as your fingers continue small circles, and you already know without looking that his eyes have fluttered shut.

The pit of your stomach can only rally, twisting and tumbling at his satisfaction. Something so domestic and something you had started with sweet intentions was quickly derailing, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

You have him. But you don’t have him. The same type of conundrum he faces with the amount of money promised to the both of you if you were to survive these hours.

“You’re making sense,” you promise with a shy grin you know he can’t see, “Like, I know the money won’t pay off all my debts or college tuition, but it’s a good start. Anyways, as you were saying?”

Both of you struggle to focus as he continues on, melting even further into your touch, “I dunno. Maybe if I have anything leftover, I’ll send it to my uncle.”

His voice is strained as he’s occupied with the feeling of your hands against his scalp, and you know it’s a throwaway sentence, but the small detail of his life you’ve been awarded doesn’t go unnoticed.

Uncle? Why uncle?

“You in debt to your uncle over a bad night of gambling or somethin’?” you try to joke as you finally release your fingertips from his scalp. Your palms come down on his shoulders as you spin him slowly, encouraging him to keep his head tipped back as he lets the water wash away the suds produced.

Surprisingly, his shampoo doesn’t smell like boy. It’s akin to green apples, maybe something smoother beneath it all like coconut. Something sweet and something innocent.

Maybe that’s what has him being so open to you as he explains, “I’ll always be in debt to him, but not for gambling. He raised me. My folks… weren’t the best. I owe everything to that man.”

There are no good words to respond with. You suddenly feel selfish for pushing him to admit it, and for making that joke to begin with.

But he only cracks open his eyes as the suds are mostly gone, looking at you through squinty eyes as he grins, “Guess I’m the boner killer now, huh?”

You snort again (fuck, had he always been this funny?) and shake your head, finally glimpsing below his hips.

Ironic of him to say that he was a boner killer when there he was, harder than ever for you, tip pink and glistening in a taunt towards you.

You were both going to Hell. You were standing in his shower, talking about his uncle, both far too horny for the topic of conversation.

“Modern day Bonnie and Clyde, but make it horny,” you manage to get out, still staring at him and resisting the urge to reach out and start something you didn’t know how to finish, “Does talking about money always get you this hard?”

“Bonnie and Clyde were robbers, not killers,” he corrects you, “And why, yes. How did you know? Do you plan to use this lethal information against me again later?”

A cavern in your chest screams out, when is later? Later within the next four hours, or later within the next year? Will you ever even give me a chance to use this against you again?

You laugh along with his joke instead.

“Absolutely. Also, who the fuck knows that much about Bonnie and Clyde?”

You make him turn around again, and repeat a similar process with the conditioner. The entire time, you try to not think about the awareness that the same burn in your own gut is alight in him.

He shrugs a little, bends a little more to encourage your fingertips back to his scalp. It doesn’t work — you’re focusing the conditioner on the drier ends of his curls. “I do.”

“Well, that’s just weird.”

You work in silence as you finish threading the conditioner through and detangling his hair with just your fingers. You don’t immediately have him rinse it out, and he takes the opportunity to reward you with the same care, the same domesticity. And just as he hadn’t questioned you, you don’t protest when he manhandles you to spin and face your back to him. You let him indulge you in the same massaging motions that you had just pampered him with, let suds of that sweetness surround you as your eyes shut delicately and you lean your head back into his deliberate touches.

Same care, same domesticity, same sensuality. You never thought washing someone’s hair could be something so intimate until his knuckles are between your locks and your back is brushing up against his chest due to limited space.

“It’s not about the money,” he randomly announces to you once the shampoo has been rinsed out and the conditioner takes its place. “I mean, I figured you knew that, but… still thought I’d say.”

“Figured as much.”

“I also wasn’t pissing,” he continues to overshare, “I know you figured as much there too.”

Biting your bottom lip to hold back a grin, you keep the rest of your face relaxed as you nonchalantly ask, “No? What distracted you, then?”

You can feel every deep breath he takes. The expansion of his chest only presses the two of you closer. Soon, you should both rinse out the conditioner. You should stop wasting water. The two of you should get out of this damn confining space and sleep, do something useful, make the most of the final four hours.

Instead, you’re letting yourself get lost in billows of steam, and teasing him. And maybe that’s something useful for you.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

You can hear his grin. God, you can hear his grin and those stupid dimples making an appearance without needing to see his face.

“Say what?” you ploy faux innocence. His fingers are still in your hair. He has no reason to continue to comb them through, but they remain there, grazing your scalp and brushing the back of your neck.

His chin meets your shoulder suddenly, his breath on your ear. “What did you call this earlier, sweetheart? I believe you called it… stupid.”

Right. Stupid.

Stupid was the ache that resided inside you for him. Stupid was the way your thighs shook from how hard they pressed together from each soft caress of his breath on the shell of your ear. Stupid was the urge to reach your arm around your back and grab onto him, any part of him, and try to pull him as closely as humanly possible — and then some.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You’re a bad liar. And he loves it.

“Right,” he draws out the single syllable, hands leaving your hair, drifting at sea as they find comfort on your biceps, touch feather light, “You have no idea what I was doing in here. You weren’t staying by the door to see if you could hear me, trying to get a free show.”

So you had been right in calling the two of you stupid. Neither of you had been very conspicuous.

“A free show to what?” you keep up the act of innocence and swallow down the delighted hun when his hands move down your arms. You’re fully flush to his chest now, almost to the point of leaning your weight back against him.

“To me touching myself to you,” bold, crass words leave his lips, “To me fucking my fist to the thought of you. Squeezing my fist around my cock, trying to make it feel like that sweet pussy.”

Your knees nearly buckle. You try to play it cool, “Oh? Is that what you were doing?”

His playful chuckle is the final straw, and his hands now on your waist are the only thing keeping you upright.

“I was.”

“And were you successful?”

How you kept your tone so steady, so even, was lost on you.

“I wasn’t.”

One hand stays planted on your waist firmly, as if he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing in this heat between the two of you. The other dares to round to the front of your stomach, fingers splayed and fingertips almost tickling you as he lets them run down the center of your navel. He’s taking his time. Slowly, painfully, his hand travels. Down, down, down. Until his fingertips are grazing right over that fire he built inside you, mere inches from where you need him to touch you most. He has you right where he wants you, and he knows it.

And so he stops. Inches, maybe less, from where your cunt is throbbing for him.

“Didn’t you say you were good with your fingers?” you’re trying to keep up a cool facade, but it’s becoming useless at this point. Your voice comes out a whine, and your hips subtly buck against empty air to try to encourage his touch lower.

“I did,” he hums directly into your ear. The hand on your waist becomes an arm fully wrapped around your front, and the press of your back to his chest becomes far more intentional. All of it to hold you in place as he moves his hand right over where you want him. He avoids your body’s pleas, and jumps straight to teasing his fingertips over the tops of your thighs. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

It’s almost funny to remember how flustered he was when he’d first made the comment, how quick he had been to defend it against being something dirtier, only to now be using it against you in anything but an innocent context.

“Please,” the beg falls from your lip as you give up on the game.

It’s a combination of all his gentle touches, the feeling of his curls between your knuckles, the steam that is smothering the two of you without notice, the way you can still feel every damn breath of his. Both through his mouth now softly kissing at the lobe of your ear, and his chest that only presses more tightly to you. That tightening arm around your waist, and the subtle change of position of his knee.

You aren’t expecting it, and your feet slide apart quickly, nearly dropping onto his sweetly placed leg between yours.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You can’t even recall the feeling of hatred you used to get at the nickname. Now, in its place, is something buzzing, something buttery, something contradictory. You’re dizzy with satisfaction from the way he murmurs it directly into your ear.

“Please touch me,” you gasp when his knee brushes upwards, not quite reaching where you need him. You swear there’s a pulse now, a throbbing cry that would do just about anything to feel those hands on you, “Please, please.”

You’re losing focus as your thoughts start to fuzz at the edges, suddenly only able to manage the words please and his name.

And it isn’t lost on him. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already going so dumb for me, aren’t you?”

Your stomach churns, everything in you tightens, and your pride isn’t above dropping yourself down properly onto his knee and grinding. You would if you could — his fucking arm won’t let you.

When you glance down, you realize just how tight his grip is. You can trace each vein along his forearm, catch the white of his knuckles as they curl against you.

He’s holding onto you for dear life, and yet his death grip doesn’t so much as hurt. You only feel safe, you only feel wanted.

“Please just touch me, Eddie,” you whimper out, not caring about how desperate you sound anymore. You have no shame, no pride, no careful calculations left for the man behind you.

His hands stop their dance across the apex of your thighs. One moment, you can barely feel his fingertips running over their softness, and the next, it vanishes completely.

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a gasp as his fingers are suddenly on your cunt, spreading you apart at a leisurely pace. You move to grab onto his forearm for leverage but he suddenly tsks and stops all of his movements.

“You can either have me touch you, or you touch me. But you can’t have both, sweetheart. Not right now.”

Through the haze, you’re unable to use your words to answer, instead cracking your eyes back open and trying to crane your neck to see Eddie properly. But he’s only chuckling into your ear again, arm around your waist tightening.

“C’mon, baby. Use your words. Which would you rather have?” he taunts, tilting his chin down and letting his nose nuzzle against the peak of your shoulder, lips barely brushing the skin.

You would have expected to not even catch the subtle feeling of plushness on you right now between your ever-growing frustration and the water still raining down on both of you. But you do; your body is growing acutely aware of every single point of contact between the two of you as the minutes go on. Every inch of your skin is tuned into his touch and where it flows, where it leaves you, where it presses deeper.

You open your mouth to respond to him, but you can’t. You can’t explain it: there isn’t a tightness in your throat, a pain grasp on your chest, a fear that is swallowing the words whole. It’s the opposite. All of your taut strings have gone slack, waves of surrendering to him having overcome all of your deepest anxieties. In this moment, amongst the white noise of a shitty apartment shower, all that there exists is him. The time limit slips away, the bet is a thing of the past, and the road taken to bring you both here is completely forgotten.

His touch is able to remain light when he decides to turn you in his arm, the grip once around your waist now pressing into your lower back as you face him. You’re completely malleable for him to do as he wishes.

Facing him, you watch all of the amusement and cockiness melt away from his features. His smirk goes soft and his face falls in awe, mouth parted as he takes in that look in your eyes. He knows. He knows that in this moment, you are completely defenseless and utterly his.

You watch all the air leave his lungs, and feel the consequential breath that releases hit the bridge of your nose due to the proximity. “You really are cock drunk for me right now, aren’t you? I haven’t even given it to you yet and you’re just… gone.”

If you weren’t completely under his spell at this moment, you would have burned with embarrassment down to the bone.

You just nod.

With this revelation, his grip on you completely transforms. It’s not just a matter of keeping you upright, but a matter of keeping you tethered to him. As if he’s afraid that the moment he lets go, he loses you.

If you could find the words, you’d assure him that he wouldn’t. You weren’t something so fleeting, so passing.

Without words, all you can do is show him. So you press up onto your tip-toes and kiss him. Hard, then soft. Fervently, then patiently. Achingly, and then assuredly. Every flash of contradiction between the two of you and all that has accumulated goes into the kiss as you let him find his breath again, solely by stealing yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips, before his nose rubs against the tip of yours as it begins a journey. Across your cheek, down your jaw, into the crook of your neck. You feel spouts of warm water trickle over his collarbones and against your own.

This time, you do have the words for him. Or rather, the word for him.

“You.”

There’s no other way to put it. You just want him.

He pulls back and stares directly into your eyes, his own brown ones swarming with varied emotions. You’re finally able to start deciphering some of them – lust, want, surprise – but not quite all of them yet.

Before you realize what’s happening, he’s sinking to his knees. Somehow, he’s twisted you so that your back meets the cool tile of the wall, careful in watching the way it supports you during the entirety of his descent.

He doesn’t say a word, his eyes doing all the talking necessary through wet lashes as he guides you to balance a foot on the edge of the tub and hook your knee onto his shoulder. Just as you realize what he’s doing, his mouth is on your hot cunt.

For all the talk and thoughts about just how good his fingers were, you seemed to have forgotten just how good his mouth was.

His tongue works away at your clit, tracing patterns before alternating to suck it sharply between his lips. He seems to have forgotten about his earlier threat, or maybe he’s just feeling merciful, as your hands instinctively reach down and wind into the roots of his wet hair. Curls matt in your grasp instantly. A harsh tug, and he’s moving his attention elsewhere, nose now nudging your clit as he circles around your entrance, pulling whines from deep within you at the teasing.

“Eddie,” you throw your head back hard enough that you’re sure that there will be an ache to feel once all is said and done, “Fuck. Right there.”

“I see someone’s found their words,” his voice is muffled and you can feel his smirk rather than see it.

It’s a damn pretty sight. Him, on his knees, wet curls plastering down his shoulders and back as his face is buried between your thighs.

You can trace over each indent of muscle across his skin through half-lidded eyes, memorize the way it looks dazzling with the moisture, watch as water pools where his fingers dig into your thighs to keep you balanced.

When his tongue finally slips inside of you, slow and stretching as the tip of his nose digs deeper into your clit, you swear you’re seeing stars. You were going to snarkily reply, but you don’t have the capacity to reply with anything other than chants of his name. Mixtures of praying to him and praying to God fall from your lips alongside curses. All muddled, all strings of whimpers and moans as he continues to bring you closer to your edge. When he finally resorts to bringing his hand back into the mix, sinking two fingers into your cunt with little warning as he returns to lazy work on your clit, you gasp out – your body lurches forward as your curl into him and your back leaves the now sticky, warm wall.

The arm that was wrapped around your lifted leg to help you balance is quick to throw over your hips, keeping half your body still pressed to the wall. “Careful, princess.”

Each word reverberates through you, both physically and somewhere deep in your mind, sending you even further reeling as your fingers grab onto him deeper and try to press him impossibly close.

Princess. Somewhere along crossing all these lines, you have ventured into new territory. A territory where the nicknames get under your skin in a brand new way, slipping into your subconscious for the better rather than arising any irritation.

Baby, princess, sweetheart.

You’ll take whatever you can get from him.

“Wouldn’t want you slipping and falling,” he murmurs as he pulls back, face now slick with you rather than the steam or water, “Can’t have you ruining that pretty face, getting blood all over my bathroom, now can we?”

He’s right. God, you fucking hate when he’s right. As much as every part of your body is screaming for him to take you right here against the shower wall, you know it’s not a good idea. And you’ve really, really succumbed to enough bad ideas in these last nineteen hours.

“Bed,” you manage to gasp out, quick to detangle your fingers from his hair and try to grab onto his shoulders without purchase due to the water still tumbling down, “Bed, now.”

He gets the message. Rises to his feet and lets your leg fall back down, shaking as he turns to cut the shower abruptly. Without asking, he’s the one to exit into the fierce cold of the apartment first, grabbing at the flesh of your hips and guiding you out along with him. He doesn’t even bother with towels – once he has you out of that potential death trap of a tub, his lips are on yours, nipping and passionate as you breathe him in. He’s the one that maneuvers the two of you out of the bathroom, you don’t even notice when he reaches behind himself to open the door, impressively never tripping as he walks backwards and keeps your lips on his.

It occurs to you that this is how you two work best. No overshadow of being honest with each other, no clouds of feelings getting in the way. And yet, somehow, it’s the most vulnerable you’ve managed to feel with him yet.

You don’t want it to only be this easy when both your clothes are off. You want it to be this easy in the early mornings that you wake him up for work, you want it this easy over late night take-out and horror movie marathons. You want more cigarettes at sunset with him, soft confessionals over a rising sun.

You can’t keep pretending that nothing has changed. You simply can’t. The fierce promise of his protection, the way his eyes stay trained on you even in the busiest of rooms. Nothing could ever erase the blooms left from him hooking his pinky with yours at the parking garage.

All of the night is flashing through your mind, and even in the trance he has you under, you’re seeing with perfect clarity.

It’s why just as the backs of your knees connect with his mattress, before he can throw you down and continue what was started in the shower, you’re pushing your palms against his wet chest and forcing him to look into your eyes.

“If we do this,” you shakily begin, watching his chest rise and fall in sync with yours. Once you say these words, you can’t take them back. You’re vividly aware of it before you continue to force your voice to come out the most steadily it has the entire night, “It changes everything.”

He blinks, eyes owlish. Once, twice. More of that emotion you finally can single out but never identify swirls like storm clouds in his vision. You wait for him to run, for him to take it all back. You wait for it all to be over – for him to deliver the final blow and leave you to collect the rubble and blood money so you can pretend this night never happened.

“Okay.”

Those aren’t the words of a fatal blow. You think they might send you reeling even worse, though.

“Okay?” you clarify. If your tongue wasn’t so heavy, you’d say more. Remind him of what exactly it means to change everything.

It seems he already knows as he parrots back, “Okay.”

Lips meet again, and this time, they’re charged with everything. With a promise of change and a promise that maybe there isn’t a ridiculous time limit here. There is no doomsday clock between the two of you. When the clock strikes 3 PM, neither of you will vanish into thin air.

You let him throw you back onto the bed. Your bare back meets the surprisingly soft sheets, and they erupt in the scent of Eddie. Cigarettes, a hint of weed, whatever cologne he seems to douse himself in. You can even pinpoint his shampoo amongst the fragrance now.

It’s no longer the smell of boy that you once ran from. His hand is behind your back, but not trapped. It’s there willingly and it is caressing every inch of you that he can find, tracing out any dimples in your back he can discover as he lets your legs curl up onto his hips, kisses dappling your neck, jaw, and lips alike.

Your vines stretch high and proud, and drink in his waves with every passing of his breath on your skin that raises goosebumps.

You want to live here forever. In the feel of him pausing right before his cock presses into you, in the way his face scrunches up and his mouth falls agape, the haze now spreading from your mind and across both of you. Nameless chants and pleads for what was already both in the palm of your hands before you even knew what to do with it. The roll of his hips and the way his wet skin sticks to your own. Your heels digging into him, bringing him in closer, closer, closer.

Every time, it has felt this way. Something beneath the surface that has you surrendering over yourself. He has hurt you, time and time again, and you’ve let your knives be just as sharp – but the wounds scab over now when it’s just the two of you like this.

You’re best like this for a reason. Because for once, neither of you are overthinking it. You are vulnerable and you are bare, not just physically but emotionally. Honesty isn’t a request; it is a given. You don’t just have him, you know him. Across oceans and across gardens, across midnight skies and across soft morning light.

You have him. You know him.

It’s enough.

Smokey bars. His protection. Slamming doors and the clicking of locks released. The night air surrounding you and the warmth of his back as you cling to him on a motorcycle that seems to be going faster than light in your memories. That parking garage, and that hook of his pinky – a way to get closer, but also a whisper of a promise.

He’s bled for you. He’s bled from you.

This changes everything.

When his hips movements become sloppy, when the knot in your stomach tightens one last time, when your nails dig into his back and leave their mark, you know it to be true.

Everything, everything, changes.

Eddie never really hated you, never really could, and you realize now that the feeling is mutual.

—

You hadn’t considered exactly what the aftermath would be when Eddie first dragged you out of the shower, but you surely never could have imagined the scene now playing out.

Him, on his back, content and humming a song you’re too tired to ask him about. His fingers are trailing mindlessly up and down your spine as you splay out across his chest. You both probably need another shower, but neither of you are willing to leave his bed for it.

It’s not you who remembers the photo. No, you’re tired, one foot already in the door of sleep as you curl yourself tighter into his side.

He doesn’t use your phone this time. You didn’t even realize his outdated flip phone had a camera on it. You’re not even sure if you dreamt the soft click that sounds like a camera as you nuzzle deeper into his chest.

“Everything,” he whispers, just as the edges of your consciousness begin to blacken, “Yeah, this changes everything.”

Your last thought is a curious one; will he send the photo he just took?

Would he dare to admit to everyone how everything has changed?

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #hehe was right

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xanasaurusrex · 9 months

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Hey! I really like your writing, you write and detail characters so well... I would like (if it wasn't a bother, of course) if you would write something about Clarisse X daughter of Athena, this has been taking over my mind for a few days, and honestly, I'm dying to read a dynamic like this! 🫠 (sorry if my writing is a little wrong, my first language is not English 🫤)

�� ˗ˏˋ clarisse la rue x daughter of athena ࿐ྂ

clarisse la rue x athena!daughter a/n: i'm working on a longer request fic and it's kinda stressing me out so i decided to do some nice little dynamic headcanons so that i have something to post! this was really fun, and honestly i'm in love with this pairing and this particular post. i hope you enjoy! warnings: not proofread! arguments, enemies to lovers, mentions of weapons wc: 1708k

it's important to mention that both ares kids and athena kids are very headstrong

they have strong opinions and are incredibly stubborn

this means that clarisse and an athena child partner probably started out as enemies

classic enemies to lovers

but honestly clarisse is the perfect character to do enemies to lovers with, like are you serious??

anyways

you and clarisse were enemies, sort of like academic rivals but more battle-y

obviously you were using your wits and stuff so it was somewhat academic on your part

but ares kids, specifically in battle, act purely on instinct

that was always sort of the battle between the two of you

whether to trust instinct or to think everything through

it wasn't until the two of you were cornered by monsters while on a rare day out from camp half blood, suddenly caught alone after the other kids from camp had wandered off somewhere else, that you two started looking at each other differently

there were times where both of you were certain you were going to die there, only to be narrowly saved by the other

almost dying at the hands of some crazy greek monster bonds people in weird sorts of ways

during the moments where one of you thought the other was going to die, you were both faced with the idea of living without the other

you realized that you weren't sure what you were going to do without clarisse constantly pushing you to trust your instincts, which had saved you many times, although you never before had wanted to admit it

you also came to the realization that you sort of liked your back and forth with her, and if she was gone, there would be no one for you to bicker with

clarisse was faced with the thought of not ever being forced to think things through again, and she was afraid of what would happen then

as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, clarisse couldn't deny the fact that you had gotten her out of trouble or kept her out of it multiple times just because you were able to think through the consequences of everything before clarisse could even think of anything bad coming from her actions

she also was forced to think about a life without your smiles, and your laughs whenever she said something dumb and you corrected her with glee evident on your face

neither of you liked the idea of life without the other

it was a strange revelation for the two of you to come to, and after you both came out of the fight with those particular monsters alive, things were awkward for a few weeks

everyone noticed, because you were both acting strange, not just around each other, but around everyone at camp

even chiron and mr. d noticed

and mr. d never notices anything

so that was kinda monumental

eventually, both athena kids and ares kids banded together to get the two of you together

they pulled an outer banks and locked the two of you in the weapons shed overnight

a few of the athena kids were worried about having their sibling locked in a shed full of weapons with an ares kid, but the ares kids weren't worried, considering they knew their sister would never hurt you, never in a million years

even when everyone was under the impression that you both hated each other, the ares kids knew that clarisse liked you on some level

also, she had just always held a sort of respect for you that she reserved just for you, not even for her siblings sometimes

so basically, super long story short-ish, you and clarisse are a thing now

you love each other, but you often butt heads

it usually has to do with the logic over instinct debate the two of you have been having since you were 13, but it's still going strong, the both of you still thinking that you're both right

clarisse usually lets you win the debate for the day, but the next she'll come back with another reason for why trusting your instincts is better than meticulously planning everything out, specifically in a battle sense

and realistically, clarisse is right

when you're standing there with a hellhound snarling in your face, you should probably just stab now and then worry about how bad your strategy was later

and she knows this

but she also knows that you like a good debate

you, as an athena kid, like using your intelligence and thinking through your argument to prove your girlfriend wrong

this whole spiel was to say that even though clarisse knows that she's right (and she freaking LOVES being right), she always secedes to you and then comes back the next day with a fresh new thing to debate with

just to entertain you

honestly, clarisse is obsessed with you

in a way that nobody thought she could be

even her

clarisse was surprised at how dependent she became on your presence in her life

she also brags about you all the time

when she's forced to go home to spend with her time, she always spends the whole time talking about you and bragging about you, and telling her relatives that you're the smartest person she's ever met, and how lucky she is that you would want to be with her

honestly, thinking of you is the only thing keeping her sane when she has to spend time with her mortal family

since the two of you are so headstrong, there are times when you get into legitimate arguments

capture the flag is always a very tense time in your relationship, partially because your two cabins are on different teams, which makes things awkward

the biggest thing is that clarisse always convinces herself that you need to be protected

she's tried a few times to get her team to take you "captive" and then just hold you in a remote place in the forest until the game is over and everything is "safe" again

clarisse is just so overly protective that it can feel a little strangling sometimes

you always have to tell her that you are able to protect yourself, and that you love playing capture the flag, so you don't want to be sequestered off into the forest, that you're not okay with that

you also sometimes have to remind her that you're not going to die playing capture the flag

it's literally against the rules

also, i know i've said this in other headcanon posts before, but clarisse is so cuddly

no matter what the pairing is with her, she always wants to either be folded around you, or have you folded around her

whipped!clarisse everyone

please applaud, because she deserves it

clarisse literally will do anything and everything for you

sometimes you'll just snap in her general direction and ask for something, and within seconds she's gently placed it in your hands with a kiss on the forehead

people get so shocked

it's hilarious

people hardly see clarisse as anything but the cold-blooded warrior on the battlefield, but you hardly ever see that side of her

you see her as your cuddly girlfriend that you occasionally have to pry off you just so you can go to the bathroom

another thing that is hardly ever talked about though, is how protective you get over clarisse

but not in the same way that clarisse gets over you

i feel like this applies to all clarisse pairings, but specifically athena pairings with clarisse

athena kids are not afraid to speak their mind, or tell others how they feel, or tell others how idiotic they're being

clarisse may be intimidating and scary, and nobody would ever say anything to her face, but people definitely say pretty mean things behind her back

granted, clarisse is a bit of a bully, but you know her under all that, and you do discourage her from her bullying

you know that it gets worse and more common when she's feeling stressed or anxious about something, so instead of running at her yelling, you try and find the root of the problem

anyways

you've seen how clarisse reacts when she accidentally overhears someone saying something mean about her

she looks akin to a balloon deflating, and you hate that

you just love her so much, you always want her to be happy no matter what

so there have been many times when you've stomped up to someone and given them a piece of their mind for talking shit behind people's backs

sometimes you add in something about how clarisse is one of the best people you've ever met, and that they should reevaluate their thoughts on her

you also occasionally add in (depending on the person) how they shouldn't be judging given their personality and how they treat others at camp

it always means to much to clarisse whenever you do this, because she's never had anyone to stand up for her before

she's never had anyone in her corner, and it means so much to her that you are

when she told you this, you practically burst into tears before pulling her into a tight embrace, telling her that you'll always be in her corner no matter what, and that you'll always be there for her

she then told you that she'd always be there to protect you, no matter what

you pulled away then and told her that the both of you will always protect each other, and clarisse almost cried when you said that

she's never experienced this all-encompassing and being-consuming type of love, and she isn't hating it, that's for sure

at the end of the day, you and clarisse are in love, and that's all that matters

yes, you have your ups and downs

you have your arguments

but what else can you expect? neither ares nor athena are really known for backing down, and you both got that stubborn trait from your godly parents

the two of you have no doubts that you'll be together forever and ever

honestly, if clarisse wasn't such a scary individual, your relationship would be a little bit gross

taglist: @asvterias @lvrue @thewritingbarbie @kroumi @ravisinghs-wife

message me or comment if you'd like to be added to my taglist!

#percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x athena!reader #athena child reader #y/n #❛ xanasaurusrex ༉‧₊˚

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inbloomwriting · 4 months

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Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked.

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be.

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!”

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.”

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.”

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on.

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for.

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.”

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?”

He has a point, she has to give him that.

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.”

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.”

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool?

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?!

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?”

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips.

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?”

“Like two weeks ago.”

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!”

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.”

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst.

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.”

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one.

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?”

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.”

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.”

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.”

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks.

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.”

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.”

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.”

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?”

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.”

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.”

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?”

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.”

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.”

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture.

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.”

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?”

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though.

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen.

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does.

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?”

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.”

“You feeling alright?”

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.”

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.”

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.”

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.”

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!”

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love.

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!”

“Can you feel that?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.”

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks.

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?”

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah, it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.”

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths.

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying.

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise.

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me.

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.”

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.”

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.”

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?”

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while.

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant.

Again with the life and the plans.

“I’m fucking nervous.”

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.”

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.”

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.”

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.”

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself.

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.”

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.”

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).”

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.”

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.”

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department.

“Jamie, welcome home.”

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).”

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.”

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.”

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety.

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones.

“This is surreal.”

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently.

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really.

“Do they know?”

“Does who know?”

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.”

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation.

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.”

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?”

“What about her?”

“Is she — are you — how are things?”

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.”

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.”

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.”

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.”

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.”

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?”

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.”

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #inbloomwriting #jamie tartt x fem!reader #everythingtomefic #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines

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lightlycareless · 6 months

Note

How do you think make up sex with Naoya would be? 🫣🤭

Heya anon 😏

Well, I hope this will offer some insight.... (more at the end)

warnings: smut. MINORS DNI. breeding kink I believe. Naoya would give you everything in the whole universe just to make you happy.

Make up sex with Naoya normally occurs after he teased the living hell out of you, and you got really annoyed by it. And of course, the way for him to fix that is to proceed by teasing you even more…

But let’s make it a bit more serious, let’s say Naoya acted stupidly, said something he shouldn’t have and instead of apologizing, made it worse. Probably prodded at an insecurity of yours.

Or more specifically, didn’t defend you from his imprudent family.

“You know I don’t like it when your family says that!” you’d gasp once the two are alone, eyes silently telling him you wished to speak. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“What was I supposed to do? You know how they are—it’s better to just stop wasting your energy and ignore them.”

“I don’t think ignoring them is doing any good anymore! By doing nothing it’s like we’re telling them there’s no consequences to their actions!” you snap back.

“I’m not going to spend my efforts on fighting a useless battle! There’s nothing I can say or do to make them change their mind! If you want to do that, go ahead!”

“So what? You’re just going to leave me alone, then?”

“Don’t say things I didn’t say.” He frowns. “You know damn well I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then you should at least try to do something… or am I not worthy of that either?”

“Where did that even come from?? Do you even know what you’re saying?!” Naoya scowls.

“… I don’t want to talk anymore.” You say, quickly turning around and retreating, faster than Naoya could attempt to hold you back.

Though honestly, he lets you go, for he too is bothered by the way this conversation went on, a seemingly silly issue that shouldn’t have gotten that much attention to begin with (before his eyes, at least) moving on to focus on his other duties instead, thinking that in time you’ll come around.

You have to, since you were well aware that his family had always been like that: with their annoying, unwanted commentary. It’s not like you ignored that, nor accepted it when marrying him!

But though you knew what you were getting into, he was greatly miscalculating your willingness to tolerate it, for everyone had limits, especially for someone who grew up in a completely different environment to him.

Just as it did today.

Yet, what Naoya believed to be the problem, it turned out to simply the tip of the iceberg when it came to your feelings, the issue being much bigger, deeper, always, than what was seen at a simple glance—and that much he’d understand when the day went on and you were nowhere to be found, besides your shared bedroom.

Naoya was elated to see you on the bed, fearing that he wouldn’t given your prolonged absence, yet, as much as he wished to convince himself everything was fine, it wasn’t.

He wasn’t to simply lay down next to you and act like nothing ever happened. Move past this issue without speaking about it, or without feeling wrong about it.

Guilty, in other words.

So, your husband does his best to close that gap between the two, let you know how sorry he was…

If not by his words, then by his actions.

“Y/N.” Naoya would murmur. You know it’s serious when he doesn’t call you by any of the millions of pet names he has for you, but still, as much as he wished to portray assertiveness, you do not acknowledge him immediately. “I’m sorry, you know that right?”

“No. I don’t.” you snap quickly, and Naoya, who now laid down on the bed, proceeds to embrace you—only for you to try and move away, failing in the process. “Naoya—”

“What? I’m just getting more comfortable.” He adds nonchalantly, resting his chin in the crook of your neck in the same manner. Hands just below your waist, he pulls your hips towards his, keeping you close and steady even when trying your best to fight against him. “This is my bed too, you know?”

You frown, letting out a small grunt in return before eventually accepting your unwanted fate.

After a few seconds of quiet and realizing you were not to do anything else, Naoya acts next by moving his hands further down your body, fingers taking in the softness of your nightgown (incomparable to your skin, he notes) before stopping just by your thighs, fingers quickly clinging to the edge of the fabric and lifting it up, just enough so his hand could gain access to your underwear, and soon enough, your mound.

“Naoya!’ you cry, tensing when feeling the touch of his fingers hovering over your slit, before pushing past it and deep into your slick, warm walls. “Stop—”

“I’m just checking how she’s faring.” Naoya adds, rubbing his clothed member against the cleft of your ass, giving you a tease of what is yet to come. “He wants to know too, hm?”

You always hated the ridiculous way he had when referring that; it was childish, stupid, and above all embarrassing…

But most of all, you also hated how hot it got you, the lewd connotation making your walls tighten for the slightest of seconds, a gesture that did went by unnoticed from Naoya given how he chuckled, further sliding down your panties, enough so he’d be able to do the same with his pants and move his cock in between your thighs, right next to your slit—he smiles the fact that, even when upset, your body will never deny it’s true feelings for him.

“D—Don’t move…!” you whine when he starts to do so, the heat of his member rubbing against your slit, alongside the girth and the hardness itself makes you instinctively tighten your thighs, pressuring his cock in a way that makes his movements falter for a second before continuing, exactly the opposite of what you asked. “You shouldn’t—”

“But we’re the ones having problems, my mochi.” He murmurs against your ear, you could feel him smiling, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Our issues shouldn’t come in between them.”

“Stop saying that!” You gasp at the particularly harsh trust that gives you a jolt of pleasure, instinctively leaning back onto him as you struggle to reject his advances or succumb to them. “It’s—It’s weird!”

“Yet, the truth.” Naoya adds, his hands sliding their way up to your breasts and comfortably resting them there, occasionally kneading and pinching them in the way he knew you loved, though you’d always whine otherwise, further igniting your guilty pleasure. “They never like it when we get angry, princess… me neither; so why must we hurt them?”

“Naoya—I’m going to—you should—” you grith your teeth, trying your best to hold back the orgasm building up in your cunt. “I don’t want—to—"

“I know—I can feel it.” He smiles, pressing a kiss against your cheek before giving you another sharp trust and making you shriek. “See? They feel so good together, and when they’re apart they always miss each other so terribly… so why put them through that painful endeavor, when we can always be like this?”

At the feeling of his and your orgasm fast approaching, the heir quickens his pace, the air soon filled with the lewd noises of his body slamming against yours, followed by his breathy grunts and your whines that solely demonstrated how deep both were getting into their carnal enjoyment.

“Or feel like this every night? All day too, if you want.”

It wouldn’t take long after that, just a few more thrusts and squeezes before he finally cums, cock twitching as it spurts his seed into your soft, warm thighs, engulfed soon after by the slick of your cunt, a sensation that has you instinctively clamping even more around his member and Naoya moaning louder while resting his face deep into your neck.

He keeps you so until your release eventually dissipates, alongside your breath slowing down, and soon enough, silence.

Naoya hoped that by his gestures he was granted the opportunity of an apology, the reflection of his true feelings and the understanding of how much you truly meant to him—and perhaps on a deeper, selfish level, a repeat of this endeavor, hopefully from your desire as well.

But far from obtaining the simplest indication of the former, he gets a soft, almost undetectable sniffle instead, which to his anxious, attentive ears was nothing but loud, making him tense up and immediately rush to your aid.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did you—did you not like it?” or worse. “Did I hurt you?”

Not necessarily, at least not at this moment.

Having spent the past few hours ruminating on your last discussion with him, you get back to your room tired, still battling through the turmoil of whether to continue being angry with him or simply move past this issue and accept that indeed, you knew what his family was like.

But sensitive from this battle, his actions would provide you the last piece needed to achieve an answer, reminded of how much you truly loved him, enjoyed spending time with him, day and night, anytime whenever possible—and how hurtful it would be to not be with him anymore.

Especially for issues caused by others, ones that perhaps maybe wasn’t even yours to struggle with, yet still affected this relationship.

Now you agree that this was a situation that shouldn’t have grown as much as it did; you shouldn’t have avoided him for the rest of the day, and Naoya shouldn’t have acted as dismissively as he did.

Both should’ve instead communicated, expressed the things that bothered the two from this problem and worked on a solution from there.

But if there was a silver lining to make out of this moment, is the realization that even when anger clouds their judgement, they still looked for one another, for love prevailed far more than any obstacles life might send their way.

“I never wanted to be angry at you!” you sob, now allowing your tears to freely fall down your cheeks, the same as your emotions. “And for something so stupid too! You were right, I know what your family is like, and yet, I still allow it to bother me and take it out on you too! Like you’re responsible for their actions! I’m so sorry for all I did—It’s all my fault—”

“No, Y/N, I’m the one that should be sorry.” Naoya murmurs, hugging you tighter against him. Your cries will always feel like a stab against his heart, no matter how many times he hears them. “I should’ve been more sensitive with my approach, especially with something I know only hurts you.”

“…Not all of your family hurts me.” You sniffle, reaching for his hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But enough of it does.” He answers, squeezing your hand. “I promised to keep you safe and happy, and yet the place that is supposed to do that only brings you harm.”

“It was never issue for me to do so.” You confess. “I wanted to do this so you can continue your duties as heir, and eventually, leader. But sometimes… It’s just too much.”

“If that is the reason of your suffering, I can do that somewhere else. I can make it possible—I’d rather die than to see you like this.”

“Don’t say that.” You frown, he chuckles. “But… will you do that for me? Would you really do something that will anger your family… just for me?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.

“The only thing I fear is that I might need time to arrange something different.” Naoya adds. “But for a long time, my family has only been you—it might take a while before I can get a house where it’ll only be us, but I’m determined nonetheless, if… you’re willing to wait for me.”

You slowly turn around to see him, a smile on your face as you gently hold his face. “I waited years to marry you, surely I can wait a bit more.”

Naoya’s heart tightens at your words, motivating him to turn you over completely so he could get a better look at you, before leaning down to take your lips into a soft kiss.

“Though I will not make you wait any longer to show how much I love you.” Naoya reassures, taking your lips into another kiss and marking the mere beginning of his promise to cherish you through thick and thin, which his heart always knew he was meant for since seeing you for the first time all those years ago.

“Naoya—don’t—don’t do it so quickly.” You gasp, tightly holding onto the blankets beneath you as he heatedly slams his hips against you from behind, pushing his cock as deep and deeper as possible, bruising your cervix each time and making you shriek in response. “It’s—It’s too much—!”

“It’s only my love for you, princess.” He groans, completely hypnotized by the way your ass jiggles whenever slamming into you; so tempting, Naoya naturally needs to raise his hand and strike it, leaving behind for you to always remember in the subsequent days who is the only one that can make you feel this way.

Whom you belong to.

“But if you don’t want it, I can simply—”

“No!” You gasp, leaning back onto him the moment he begins to slide out from you, a reacting that has him laughing, amused by your debauchery. “Don’t you dare leave!”

A reward is only expected with a wife so dutiful…

“Can you feel that? —Can you feel my cock deep inside you?”

You whine, agreeing with his words as you continue to move against him, the mere thought of being empty is enough to fill you with unparalleled eagerness, which you did not hesitate to show.

“Nnghh, Naoya—you’re so—you’re so big—!” you gasp, and your words alongside your lovely whines, make him grow even harder. “Ah, it’s—it’s getting bigger—how?!”

“Because you keep squeezing me like that.” He growls against your ear, taking your breasts into his hand and kneading them tightly, you cry. “That’s what you do to me, my wife—your lewd cunt is squeezing me so tightly, it’s like you don’t want to let go.”

“I don’t want to….!” You whine. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—I’m going to die if you do!"

“Keep saying that, whore—keep telling me what you deserve.”

“My pussy—my pussy deserves your hard, hot cock!” you breathe.

“It's like falling in love with you all over again.” he murmurs.

“I love you, Naoya.” You gasp, mind hazy from the pleasure yet keeping you conscious enough to keep seeking him. “I love you so, so much… I never want to be away from you!”

“You won’t.” He darkly promises, having long made up his mind on how exactly he plans to do that. “I won’t let you—!”

Naoya’s hips begin to move faster and faster, each time his cock prodding onto your sensitive spot that he knows will have you undone in a matter of seconds, just around the same time he comes to the conclusion that will ultimately make his promise real.

“I’m going to get you pregnant.” He darkly declares, gritting his teeth as he pushes his cock deeper as he utters those words. “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you have a baby—and even then, I’ll keep filling you until all you could think is when you’ll get pregnant again.”

“Nao—Naoyaaa…!” you moan at his promise, his words washing over you with another layer of pleasure you never considered possible, although the thought has crossed your mind before, bothered you enough late at night, wondering about the arduous attempts the two would have to commit to make it happen…

“I can’t wait to see your breasts full of milk—I bet it’ll taste just as sweet as your cunt.”

“Don’t—Don’t say that!” you shriek, feeling impossibly lewder at his connotation and tightening even more your walls, making his breath hitch.

“But it’s true.” He groans, moving his hand down to your clit and beginning to rub it eagerly once feeling your orgasm just a few instances away, frantically desiring to be engulfed by the choking sensation his cock deserves after it’s diligent work. “All that comes from you is unbearably sweet…”

“I’m—I’m going to—I’m going to cum!”

“Do it. Do it now!” Your husband hisses. “Cum, Y/N!”

A few thrusts later, you do, followed by a quick gasp and a long groan, the knot in your stomach snapping undone and making your vision go white, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moan, falling limp onto the bed while Naoya’s seed fills you to the brim, the burning promise to make you pregnant reiterated by his lips taking yours into a heated kiss…

“Can you—Can you feel that?” he murmurs, cock twitching as it spurts the last ropes of his cum. “It’s my love for you. And now, our baby…”

“Naoya…” you whine, squeezing your walls ever so slightly when feeling him twitch; he groans. “I want it—I want your babies…”

“Take it—take all of it—” he smiles, looking down to your cunt. “Looks like she also wants that—can you see how eager she is to milk me?”

You glance downwards, eyes hazy by pleasure but still capable enough to see what he meant, unwilling to deny his words… before gasping when realizing the gravity of what transpired next.

“Naoya! It’s spilling! Don’t let it spill!”

“If you think we’re done, you’re gravelly mistaken.” He smirks, fingers quickly cleaning up his seed and pushing deep into your cunt, where it belongs, before adjusting you into the next position. “I’ll give you as much as you want, my love, whatever is necessary to make you a mommy.”

You moan when he begins to move again, feeling impossibly fuller the deeper his cock went, an endeavor that would go on and on until you were unequivocally reassured of his feelings for you, his immeasurably desire…

As well as the first semblance of a future together, hopefully soon, as a family.

“I love you.” You breathe once he finally unsheathes himself from you, many hours later from the beginning, as you laid beside him and rested your head over his chest.

“I love you too.” Naoya responds, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you tight, his head resting over yours while his hand made way to your full stomach. “And our baby.”

“It’s still too soon, love.” You say, gently reaching for his hand, smiling. “But hopefully it’ll take…”

“Guess we’ll have to do it a few more times, just to be sure.” He chuckles, you pout.

“I don’t think I can fit any more, I feel so full already…” His cock invertedly twitches at the thought of proving you wrong, which you don’t fail to catch immediately after. “Naoya? We’ve just—it’s 3 in the morning!”

“Then why did you say something like that?” he asks, already adjusting you into position yet again. “If you wanted to rest, then perhaps you should control your words.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” you gasp, cunt twitching when he rubs the head of his cock against your slit. “Naoya— I don’t think—I don’t think I can take anymore! What’s gotten into you? Aren’t you tired?!"

But for a man like Naoya, that was impossible.

To ask him to be tired of his beautiful wife, the same one that has endlessly doted on him, shown him a world of color where previously all he’s seen was darkness, as well as demonstrated the future the two could create, by simply setting their minds into it, was like asking him to stop breathing.

He just couldn’t, because doing so would kill him.

And all for one particular reason:

“I’m not, Y/N.”

“H—how?!”

“Because I simply love you too much.”

This could really go down like a:

Naoya: My wife is angry... what can I do? Oh, I know! *gets her pregnant*

I mean you do want to have a family with him!! but not like that hahaha.

Anyways, I've had this thought for a while but guess it finally came out with this small drabble: The Zen'in estate is not a good place to have a family lmao. I keep writing our favorite couple there but lets be real, Naoya wouldn't want her there.

Naomi is out of the question too! I literally just thought about how neither you or Naoya would allow her to have sleepovers at the estate because the Zen'in are just a bunch of pricks.

I like to think that he'll either have a whole area secluded for his family, or just live somewhere else. Maybe when he's leader tho he'll change a lot of things.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small thing!! Naoya and his domineering ways will always come to bite you in the butt some way or another much to your dismay, but it'll also be the reason you remember why you love him so much 🥺

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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queenshelby · 8 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part Ten: The Movies

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Later that day, just as you were laying on your bed and tried to read a book, Lucy walked into your shared room and was surprised to see you.

"Y/N, fuck what are you doing here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was just..." you hesitated, glancing briefly at Lucy before staring at the floor nervously. "Reading," you finished lamely, clutching the book you were supposedly reading tightly in your hands.

"I can see that, but why are you here?" she wanted to know. "I would have thought that you were hanging out with you know who tonight," she said quietly seeing that the dorm rooms at the university had rather thin walls.

"Nope, he changed his mind about us," you answered honestly, your voice trailing off in embarrassment. "I guess his consciousness got the better of him after all," you explained with a saddened voice, causing Lucy to purse her lips.

"Really? Why the sudden change?" she asked, her eyebrows raised, skepticism written all over her face. Her voice dripped with disbelief and concern.

"I don't know. I guess he feels guilty, I suppose," you mumbled, averting your gaze, unwilling to delve deeper into the issue at hand. You clutched the book tighter, a protective shield guarding your vulnerable emotions.

Lucy studied you closely, squinting at you as if scrutinizing your every detail.

"Look, I'm going to level with you," she began, her voice suddenly stern. "I think that him coming to his senses may be for the best. Not only is he your ex-boyfriend's dad, he is also married, right?" Lucy stated, her voice laced with caution.

"Yeah, but..." you trailed off, unsure how to respond. You appreciated Lucy's understanding and concern, but there was something unspoken lingering between you, something unsettling.

"It doesn't matter," you eventually muttered, deflecting her question. "I just need to clear my head now and forget about him," you insisted, fidgeting with the book.

"You do and, Y/N, just think about it, even if he wasn't married and was readily available to you, he would be way too old for you and, if anyone was to ever find out about your little affair, then the press would have a field day with it," Lucy said, her tone softening. "His career would suffer and your prospects of permanent employment at the hospital would be hindered as well," she explained.

Her words resonated in your mind, striking a chord deep within you. You had never considered the consequences of your actions on your professional life.

"I know, Lu," you sighed, closing the book and tossing it aside. "But I actually really enjoyed myself with him, you know?" you ventured, your voice quivering slightly with uncertainty. "I mean, it wasn't just the sex that was incredible. It's everything. We could talk for hours about anything. He is smart, humble and very attentive. Plus, he is incredibly attractive and gentle as well. Unlike me, he is super creative and funny too," you explained just before Lucy interrupted you.

"And yet, you need to forget about him because, frankly put, he will never leave his wife for you," Lucy reasoned, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I highly doubt that he would jeopardize his career and reputation over an extramarital affair with a younger woman who happened to date his son in the past," she added grimly. "It's wrong on all levels, Y/N and I know that you know that," Lucy stressed, her eyes pleading with you to understand where she was coming from.

The truth of her words stung you, forcing you to confront the harsh realities of your situation. You swallowed, fighting back tears that threatened to fall.

"Yes, I do know that it's wrong," you finally conceded, your voice cracking. "It's not worth risking my future or his for something that can never amount to anything substantial," you admitted, and Lucy nodded, relief washing over her features.

"Exactly, Y/N," she praised, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Now, I guess you don't really want to come to the movies with us tonight, seeing that we are going to watch Oppenheimer, right?" Lucy continued, her voice tinged with reluctance, understanding very well that watching Cillian on the big screen was too difficult for you right now.

"Actually, why not. The bloody advertisements are everywhere anyway. I see his face every day around town, and everyone is talking about the movie, so I may just as well watch it," you replied, swallowing a lump in your throat, receiving a warm smile from her as a reward.

"That's the spirit, Y/N," Lucy cheered, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I am glad you are coming and guess who else will be there?" she asks casually, grinning mischievously.

"Who?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"James," she replies triumphantly. "The cardiologist you have been flirting with at work before you hooked up with Max's dad," Lucy explained excitedly, grinning broadly.

"Really?" you ask, feigning surprise. "You noticed that?" you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Well, I do pay attention sometimes," Lucy retorted, rolling her eyes teasingly. "Besides, James is cute and smart. Lucas invited him but I think that you might actually enjoy his company," she winked, nudging you with her elbow.

"Alright, alright," you chuckled, relenting before looking for some clothes to wear but, as you rifled through your closet, searching for something comfortable to wear to the movies, your thoughts drifted back to Cillian.

You weren't sure whether you should be grateful for his abrupt departure or resentful for leaving you high and dry, so quickly. Regardless, his memory lingered, and the ghost of his touch still burned on your skin like a lingering kiss.

Eventually though, you found a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, not putting too much effort into your appearance. Realisticially, you were done with men for now and even James was slightly too old for you. Yet, you liked being in his presence and it was not as if you could deny the chemistry between you two at work.

He was certainly interested in getting to know you some more and this became even more evident when you entered the cinema later that evening, taking your seat in between him and your friend Lucy.

"So, Y/N," he began, his voice warm and inviting. "Tell me more about you," he requested politely, his eyes shining eagerly before the adds started rolling in.

"What do you want to know?" you wondered aloud, contemplating your response.

"Anything," he assured you, leaning towards you slightly. "What do you do when you aren't studying or working?" he asked, growing increasingly curious about you.

"I like to read, or listen to music," you responded, thinking for a moment. "I also like to go for walks, especially in nature. Do you enjoy hiking?" you asked James, turning your head sideways to glance at him.

"Not really," he shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "I am more of a city person and, as you know, I work a lot so I rarely get any free time to explore the great outdoors."

"I see," you said, nodding. "Well, if you ever want to try it, I am game. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from me," you teased, laughing lightly.

"Definitely," he smiled, patting his chest proudly. "I would appreciate that," he said. "Maybe we could take my BMW, drive down the coast and have a picnic or something," he smiled just before the theatre darkened and the movie previews came on.

"Maybe," you nodded before you took a deep breath, settling into your seat and gripping the armrests tightly.

Concentrating on the captivating visuals and engaging sound effects, you tried to push Cillian out of your mind which, of course, was proving to be a challenge as the familiar contours of his face kept appearing before your eyes on screen.

As the film progressed, you found yourself uncomfortably entranced by this man again and, soon enough, James noticed your discomfort especially during Cillian's intimate scenes with Florence Pugh.

However, you remained adamant to focus on the present and, despite the occasional flashbacks of your fleeting intimacy with Cillian, you desperately attempted to compartmentalize these thoughts.

Somehow, you got through the entire movie and, when the lights came back on, the credits were already rolling, indicating that the film had ended.

"Great movie," James commented, turning to look at you. "What did you think?" he asked you, smiling brightly.

"Yeah," you nodded, returning his smile awkwardly. "It definitely had its moments," you swallowed harshly while hearing some women behind you talking about Cillian's captivating performance, causing even James to roll his eyes and chuckle.

"You used to date his son, didn't you?" he asked while listening to the group behind him, now drooling over Cillian's captivating eyes and aura.

"Whose son?" you questioned, shooting James a puzzled look.

"Cillian's son," he chuckled. "You know, the lead actor? Cillian Murphy?" he said sarcastically, seeing that you did not really pay much attention to his question.

"Uhm, yeah," you acknowledged, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a long time ago though," you added, swallowing hard, realizing that sharing this information made you feel slightly awkward.

"Did you ever get to meet his dad?" James asked, his tone hinting at a curious undertone.

"Yeah, a few times," you replied, fiddling with your fingers nervously. "Why do you ask?" you queried, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"Oh, I was just wondering since I met him once when his son was in the ER, and he seems like a decent guy. Really quiet though," James shared, shrugging casually.

"He is quiet, I guess," you stammered without revealing your true feeling towards Cillian and the fact that you had been intimate with each other only recently.

"So, do you want to grab a drink?" James asked after a minute of awkward silence, gesturing towards the exit. "Or maybe we can head to my penthouse instead? I have a bottle of Moet in the fridge, and you should really see the views from my place. Absolutely incredible," he suggested, noticing the heaviness in your gaze.

The mention of heading home jolted you back to reality, and you blinked several times before offering a weak smile. "Uhm, maybe another night," you hesitated, running your fingers through your hair nervously. "I'm quite tired," you lied, your voice barely audible.

"Yeah, sure. Whenever works for you. Unless I am working, I will make sure to be available," James agreed, flashing a sympathetic smile as you walked with him and the rest of the group while images of Cillian's face danced across your memory, his sensual whispers reverberating in your eardrums like forbidden promises.

You tried to shake off the images, but they persisted, weaving themselves into the fabric of your mind.

As you walked alongside James, you stumbled over your feet, lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of memories.

Determined to break free from the chains of the past, you forced a smile and plunged into a torrent of meaningless chatter. The laughter that escaped your lips was hollow, devoid of genuine mirth. You needed a distraction, something to blot out the haunting visions of Cillian's presence and the intimacy you shared with him.

Eventually, you arrived at campus where James said goodbye to you and Lucy.

"Sleep tight, Y/N," he whispered affectionately, his eyes filled with warmth and concern. "I will see you tomorrow," he reassured you, reaching out to squeeze your hand softly.

You could only muster a weak smile in return, trying to hide the turmoil raging inside you.

"Thanks, James," you murmured, squeezing his hand gently before stepping into the dormitory.

Once inside, you breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming the solitude that engulfed you and Lucy knew to let you be and not to bring up James or Cillian again.

After all, you were exhausted and needed some peace to sort through your feelings.

You slipped off your shoes and collapsed onto your bed, your heart racing like a runaway train. Memories of Cillian's passionate embrace crept into your mind, refusing to relinquish their hold on you and it wasn't until a week after that you heard from him again. He was giving you a heads up that he had been asked by the UNESCO foundation to present several awards at a charity event you and some fellow students were organizing for Empathy Week and whilst you weren't exactly surprised by his announcement, it worried you to see him again in this capacity.

Unbeknownst to you however, leading up to that message, Cillian too was struggling to come to terms with his feelings for you as well.

He had spent sleepless nights thinking about you; the taste of your lips, the scent of your hair, the intoxicating energy between you.

Despite knowing full well that he was trapped in a loveless marriage, unable to escape, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull drawing him further into your orbit.

As such, he became withdrawn and distant, spending most of his downtime holed up in his study, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He would often pace up and down his basement, pondering the implications of pursuing a relationship with you. His conscience weighed heavily on his shoulders, burdened by guilt and the fear of destroying both of your lives.

His wife Danielle soon became aware of his distant demeanor and moodiness and, every time she tried to initiate intimacy, he pushed her away with excuses of exhaustion or stress. This caused tensions to flare up between them, resulting in bitter arguments about their dissolving marriage.

Despite his attempts to distance himself from you, Cillian couldn't help but think about you constantly. He replayed the memories of your passionate encounter in his mind, longing for the chance to experience it again. Every day, he would find reasons to seek you out on social media, hoping for a glimpse of you and when he received the invitation to speak at the Empathy Week charity event organized by you and some other students, his initial reaction was one of dread.

The prospect of facing you again brought forth a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - anticipation, lust, shame, fear. Yet, the opportunity to contribute to a cause that held significance for both of you provided a strange sense of comfort. With trepidation, he accepted the invitation, secretly hoping to see you again but when Danielle and Max also confirmed their attendance at the event, his mind started spinning with the complications that awaited him. He wrestled with his guilty conscience, torn between his love for his family and his irresistible attraction to you which he knew would cause problems that evening if he wasn't careful.

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine

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nikxlaii · 1 year

Text

➽ 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝐈𝐈)

☁ Pairing: Dazai Osamu x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁ Synopsis: Every time he holds you closer, he can’t help but think of his previous love. You left the agency in order to move on and recover, leaving Dazai in pain.

☁ Note: A continuation of Part 1 of Glimpse of Her. Originally, I didn't plan on making a second part for this since I'm out of ideas, but some of you insisted, so here you go. This story sounds so much better in my head. ;// 08/16/2023

Part 1

Since then, a week has gone by without your presence at the agency. Others started to worry and tried contacting you. They knew what had happened and were utterly disappointed with Dazai. Of course, he received tons of smacking from Kunikida for being such an idiot.

Dazai sat at his desk, staring into the distance. He absentmindedly fiddled with the slack bandage covering his arm, almost ripping it out. Normally, he would replace them with new ones, but does that really matter right now? He couldn’t think of anything other than you circling his mind.

It was unusual, to say the least, for the Agency to be so quiet.

He signed softly and leaned his head on his desk. The pain, guilt, and regret have been weighing heavily on his mind. He despised himself for how he exploited you for his own pleasure; how he only loved you because you reminded him so much of her, yet despite everything he had done to you, you continued to love him dearly, and that made him feel extremely guilty.

What good would it do, he thought, to apologize when he knew it wouldn't repair the pain he had caused?

Honestly, even if he knows he's done something wrong, he's not the type to apologize, but to you? He's unbelievably tender, almost making Kunikida choke and die with the change of Dazai’s personality around you.

He thought about what might possibly happen if you hadn't accepted his feelings in the first place. Will you both be content with your lives as friends or just happy as companions?

He doesn’t know the answer to that.

He sighed and stood up, proceeding towards the exit. This is something he always does to clear his mind. He'll go somewhere where he can be alone and think without being interrupted by people.

He twisted the doorknob, ignoring Kunikida's exasperated yells. He proceeded through the corridors and down the stairs, ignoring everyone in the agency. He just wants to get out and be by himself right now. Most eager to find you. Yes, he's worried.

As he was ready to leave the building, he was stopped by Ranpo's plaintive voice from the President's room.

“EHH? WHAT? You’re leaving?! (Name), don’t leave me!” was all Dazai heard as he walked back almost immediately and stood in front of the president's office. He grasped the doorknob, hesitant to enter. Dazai knew you didn't want to see him, but it's been a week, so this would be an opportunity to talk to you.

He broke out in a cold sweat as the thought of you leaving passed through his head. This felt like a kick to the gut for Dazai. He doesn’t want you to leave. He’s already lost the people he cared for, and now you? His grip tightened, and a familiar feeling rose up in his chest. He knew he was the reason, yet he ashamedly admits he doesn’t want you to leave. Even if you don’t talk to him, seeing your presence safe in the agency is already enough for him.

But what did he expect? This is clearly the consequence of his foolish actions.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether he should go in or just wait for you to come out. He gritted his teeth as his breath became shallow. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Despite being able to control his heart rate, he couldn’t stop it. Dazai wasn’t familiar with the sensation, as it was the first time he had felt this way, and it left him feeling overwhelmed and out of character, almost making him cringe.

He snapped back to reality when he heard a familiar voice behind the door. "Don't worry, Ranpo-san, I'll still come by and bring you sweets," you muttered as you opened the door, unaware of the person behind it. You collided with something, or more specifically, someone's chest. You looked up to see who it was, making you suck in a breath. You took a step back and instantly adjusted your stance. You silently closed the door behind you while staring at the individual in awkward silence.

Why now?

You thought as you pursed your lips. You were helpless and simply stood there, staring at the man who had broken you. Thoughts of ignoring him and leaving as if you didn't know him crossed your mind, but something inside of you keeps you from doing so. Possibly anxious?

Breathing nervously, you were taken aback by his sudden embrace, causing you to halt in place and your eyes to widen. Dazai didn’t know what pushed him to do that, but he didn’t care; he just felt the need to hold you in his arms.

"(Name), you’re safe. I’ve missed you so much, my bella-"

"-please get off of me." You spoke as you firmly pushed him away. You could have sworn you saw the anguished expression he made, but you were too perplexed to even care about that. Right now, you just want to be eaten by the ground and be alone. Just seeing him makes your heart tighten.

"(Name), belladona, can we talk this out? Please talk to me," He said in a pleading tone, taking a step closer to you, but you were too hurt to even want to hear of any of his pathetic reasons. You didn't want to take a chance of getting hurt again, especially when he made it clear that he took advantage of your feelings.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead as you fought back tears that threatened to form in your eyes. You were at a loss for what to do in this uncomfortable situation. You didn't want to cry in his presence. You just want to be away from him and be alone.

When he didn't hear you respond, his heart tightened, a clear indication to him that you didn't want to talk to him. Normally he would pester the person and force them to speak to him, but this time was different. He knew you didn’t want to, so he had no choice but to let you go.

You muttered a low ‘excuse me’ as you walked past Dazai, leaving a pit inside of his stomach. You surpassed the impulse to cry as you exited the building. It's probably the last time you'll ever set foot on it. As much as Dazai wanted to hold your wrist to stop you, he just can’t bring himself to do it. But if he can, he will, even if it means screaming at him, just for you to stay.

His heart sank when you disappeared from his sight. The person he loved was leaving him again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down as he watched the person who had made him feel understood disappear from his life forever.

Ranpo knew it was coming as he walked out of the President's office, peering at the man's amber eyes with his emerald ones in disappointment.

"Honestly, did you love them? Or was it simply the way they treated and loved you that made you love them?" Ranpo inquired solemnly, already knowing the answer to his question. Despite Ranpo's childish demeanor, he becomes serious in circumstances like this if you’re involved. You were like a sister to Ranpo, and watching you leave the agency sent thousands of knives through his chest. He couldn't help but blame the brunette for your departure.

Dazai turned his gaze to where you had left. He did love you. He loves you with all his heart. But there were times that he'd see you as her, and he couldn’t help but miss her solace. But of course, that is no excuse for him to make you stay.

He didn’t immediately respond, but after a moment of silence, he replied, “With all my heart.”

“How can you say that? You broke their heart.”

He sighed deeply and said, “I know, and for that, I'm forever sorry. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt them. I loved them more than anything in the world. I still do.”

‘Never meant? that’s bullshit.’ Ranpo thought to himself. Although Ranpo isn’t the type of person to curse, what Dazai said made him look at him in disbelief.

After a long pause, Dazai continued, “I know how much pain I caused them, and I don’t expect them to forgive me. But I want them to know that they’ll always have a place in my heart.”

If he hadn't messed up in the first place, surely your relationship would not have ended up this way.

But his actions were a choice, not a mistake, right?

Right.

Before turning around, Ranpo took a final look at the brunette and then closed his eyes.

“The hardest part of love isn’t falling in or out of it. It’s learning how to pick yourself up and move on.” and with that, Ranpo left the brunette dumbfounded.

As he stood there dumbfounded, a sudden realization slowly began to dawn on Dazai. He was coming to understand something he had never quite fully realized before. He blinked a few times as he breathed out a breath he was holding before starting to move again.

Maybe… Just maybe one day he'll find a glimpse of us.

Part 1

Bonus part: It's been 6 years since you last visited the agency, and you're now blissfully engaged to someone amazing. You haven't seen or heard from your former colleagues in a long time, so inviting them to your wedding would be a fantastic idea.

And what about Dazai? He hasn't changed since you left. Consider his distress when he receives your wedding invitation. To be honest, he deserves it. That was something he did to himself. But part of him is relieved that you've found happiness.

He was hesitant to attend your wedding, but Ranpo persuaded him to do so. (Lmao He wanted him to feel your anguish 6 years ago.)

#angst #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x reader angst #dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x reader angst #fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader angst #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader angst #bsd x reader #angst no comfort #dazai x reader angst no comfort #bsd

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thedailydescent · 4 months

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Going back my post about the fight (you guys left so many good tags!)

I'm not completely sold on the idea that Armand purposefully and methodically planned to trigger Louis into a meltdown/suicide attempt (which the rescue of would be delayed) for the purpose of keeping him by his side in a weakened state, not because it would make what he said and did any less wrong, but because it goes against what we know about Armand as a character.

From what Assad Zaman said, Armand is a guy who actually has less control than he appears and wants, and is sometimes without a full/correct assessment of the people around him. Just because one has all the power, that doesn't mean one's own insecurities or overestimation of self can't get in the way of effective control. He did leave his partner and the "homewrecker" alone together this episode thinking everything would be fine, after all; that does not spell out someone with great calculation skills. He also has this pessimistic passivity to him. He will see trouble coming, but because of his past experiences, feel there's no use in stepping in to prevent the situation because it will only delay the inevitable. He then tries to convince you and himself afterwards that he could not have prevented any of it from it happening (as @rosesocietyy said, his commitment to deniability will choke him one day). He's not a man who can prevent an implosion, but he is a man who can commit to the clean-up afterwards (see how controlled he appears during his fight with Louis vs him playing 'nursemaid' afterwards).

I feel like when we talk about abusers, it's pretty easy and even dangerous to see them as ones who plan everything out from the beginning, who always know what's going on/what's going to happen, and are always in control (it goes back to the whole 'Armand planned Claudia's death from the beginning to trap Louis', 'Armand abracadabra-ed how Claudia died who Lestat really was from Louis's head', "Armand has been mind-controlling Louis to stay with him for 77 years" "Armand actually planned this interview because he wants to break up with Louis/get with Daniel' theories). Not only does it paint a portrait of abusers as one-dimensional villains even though anyone could be one, it also misses the point of why something or someone is abusive in the first place. It's not about whether you intended your actions to have consequences or not, whether your past trauma has compromised your skills to self-regulate or connect with others, or whether you have control all the time or not. It's about how your actions have hurt the other/made them feel helpless regardless, and whether they're (rightfully) afraid it's going to happen again.

During that fight scene, I see Armand's facial expressions and behaviour change multiple times during that fight. I see the look of anger slowly turning to regret then worry when Louis runs out of the room. That didn't look like someone who planned any of that to happen or is plotting to delay Louis's rescue, but someone who was coming off the high end of their subconscious/released pent-up emotions. Armand to me is honestly scarier because of that unpredictability and lack of clear thought-process. With Armand it's never really about boiling his decisions down to one reason; it's about the effect someone as powerful as Armand has when he feels he has no control.

#armand #iwtv meta #iwtv spoilers #iwtv season 2 spoilers #vampterview #i think what i'm trying to say is that armand isn't great at planning ahead or maintaining control but he is effective at punishment #and wearing others down #hence how he was in the fight scene vs afterwards #also as a fictional abuser he's written with a lot more complexity than what i think a lot of the fandom narrow him down to #which is either a coldly calculating one dimensional villain or a crazy out of control gremlin #meanwhile there are hundreds of different things going on in that guy's head- all swirling together in a black void

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snzunii · 1 year

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PROBLEM CHILD.

you were a problem child right from the start; lacks self-control and difficult to handle. now, what would your father do when you go running around fucking his most hated enemy?

+ pairings. ran haitani x f!reader.

+ tags. explicit sexual content, overstimulation, rough office sex, unprotected sex, creampie, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY !!

+ word count. 0.8k

+ note. hi, this is honestly the first in a long time that i've written a smut. . . so please be good to me idk what i'm doin anymore. and keep ur eyes closed on any errors if there is any, i'm to worn out to proofread 😭

i'm tagging my babe @fsuna, ily <3

“Say it.”

“Fuck you.” you whispered in his ears, your arms hanging low on his shoulders as your fingernails dug into his back. “I-I won’t.”

Ran chuckled that soon turned into grunting, his other hand gripping the desk tightly while the other was clasping your hair a little too hard—which pisses you off a little bit because you took a long time fixing your hair, but that doesn’t matter now does it?

All that matters was his cock pounding your pussy senseless, you looked down and you could see how his length moved in and out of you. Every thrust has your body shaking, making your pussy so much wetter than it already is and to add to that, you could feel his cock twitching a bit as he rams deep enough to hit the spot that makes you lose your mind, deep enough to fill your aching creamy cunt.

You’re turning Ran on more and more because how could you be so cocky while you’re above the desk spreading your legs for him—tits bouncing freely as he unsymphatetically fuck you into madness. “Come on, pretty. Say it. Say I fuck you so good. Say I’m the only one who could make you cum.”

“N-no—Mhmm, ah fuck you! Fuck fuck!” you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from screaming because what would Ran’s employees say if they hear their boss is fucking someone’s brains out in his office?

That would be very unprofessional—that would be very wrong considering he is your father’s competitor, what else would they say? But you couldn’t care any less, when did you ever gave a fuck? You always got what you wanted and did everything you wanted to without facing the consequences of your actions.

The more that you stand on your ground, the more that Ran fucks you harder—the desk was wobbling and you were pretty sure that you could hear it crack. “R-ran! S-slow down, ‘m cumming!”

He was out of control—balls deep in your cunt, desperately hitting all the right spots to make you falter under him. You wanted to be in control so badly, but that was hard when he was towering over you—showing you that you should surrender yourself to him. And you were afraid of doing that, you couldn’t let that happen because doing that would mean you lost your mind completely. But haven’t you lost your mind already the moment you fucked him and bounced on his dick countless times?

He was ruthless, it was like he wanted you to beg him for mercy and make you hold on to what was left of your sanity. Oh god, it feels good to be stretched out by his big cock, being overstimulated gives you the chance to feel every bit of his cock inside you—rubbing against your walls, getting you overwhelmed because of how big and fat his dick is. You were moaning his name so loud, but constantly reminding yourself that you’re not the only people on this floor and the thing that was just dividing you and Ran from the other people would be the walls and the door.

But that was the least of your worries. That wasn’t any of your worries.

“F-fuck you, I’m cumming already—you shit, ah!” Ran let out a raspy laugh, pounding into your cunt harder and harder every second. You know what would make him cum in an instant but you were holding it back—because honestly, you want this to drag on longer. You want him to fuck you into oblivion, fuck you until he filled your pretty weared out pussy to the brim with his cum.

But you couldn’t hold on any longer—your lips were pretty swollen from biting your it too hard, you could feel your cum dripping out and Ran just couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough of your pussy taking his cock so well. Every expression on your pretty face makes him go feral, so animalistic that he could make you limp just from fucking you this hard.

“Fuck! Fuck, R-ran! You fuck me so g-good!” you cried out, and instantly you felt Ran’s grip on your hair go a little hard, his body tensed out as you felt his thick cum oozing out of the tip of his cock into your pussy. His throat dragged on long moans as he unloaded on your cunt. It was that easy, how you made him cum just by saying that he fucked you so good, that he’s the only one that could do that.

You both panted, Ran leaning his forehead on yours until a smirk bore onto your face. “You’re wrong.”

“Hm?”

You held on to his nape, pulling his face close to yours—licking and biting his lower lip. “I should be the one asking you to say that I’m the only one who could make you cum like that, Haitani.”

#ran haitani #bonten ran #ran x reader #ran smut #ran x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader

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cator99 · 16 days

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(Re: previous post about my home) with all that said yes i did finally snap and admit that the stress of this situation has been affecting me and pointed directly towards how PG and new girl have irresponsibly conducted themselves and pushed an unstable situation onto all of us which I did not appreciate considering how hard I've worked to reach a point of relative housing stability. They must have assumed I wasn't home because I heard the two of them reacting in a very real ie messy way (I seriously respect that they were just being real about it for once instead of putting up a front like nothings wrong and using instagram infographics speak to slough off taking responsibility for their actions and guilt people into placating their poor behaviour ykwim) like really just cackling about how I brought up the overall flippant attitude that the situation has been treated with, and that [new girl] may think the house is in an unlivable condition (she brings this up constantly as though this is a reason to approach all of this with utter disregard) just because it's not the suburbs but for some of us who grew up without shit this place is a godsend and honestly there's not that much wrong with it at all, so please try not to jeopardize our ability to live here for the people who really need it just because it means nothing to you. Grow up. That was what comprised my (now deleted) message. They were having real fun in the kitchen laughing at how seriously I was taking everything. Fair enough. Their issue at that point wasn't that I was somehow wrong but rather that I care at all enough to get butthurt about it and to say all of this. Then they got to the real issue: how to respond to it? I came out of my room and assured them that there was no need to. Doesn't seem like there's a conversation to be had. New girl ran off and hid behind the corner while PG sat there and shifted back into her can-do-no-wrong sjw mode and asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I leaned against the stove on the far opposite side of the room from them and told new girl that if she really didnt care about all this at all then she should say so to my face. Everyone else has to live with the consequences of what seems to just be a joke to you, so why do you get to hide? I was entirely calm about this for the record so this didn't seem to be a fear thing it's just that she'd just been caught acting shifty lol. She just kept hiding silently around the corner in the living room. PG tried to come at me with the "to be honest, you're Causing Harm by singling out [new girl]'s attitude towards the situation." I told her that overstating harm isn't appropriate here (again, these words exactly. I'm not here tweaking acting out or losing my mind I'm just calmly telling them what I think but I got the impression that it would've made no difference either way) and assured her that the particular statement about Attitude was directed at how everyone involved has handled this. We talked about the minutiae of my language and I reiterated that I was addressing the Overall Attitude that people have taken towards the issue. "But you're singling her out." I don't find that unreasonable. We went back and forth about language until she told me: "if you take issue with the way someone is conducting themselves then you need to tell them." I said she was right! She was absolutely right. So I invited new girl to peek her head around the corner. She brought herself into view. "I think that you are careless and irresponsible. You've made decisions that put people's housing at risk. And yes, you have a shit attitude." They stared at me.

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topgun-imagines · 7 months

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An angst prompt?! Don’t tempt me with a good time

I would really love to see something with the line:

“i loved you, you used me.”

Calm filled the atmosphere. The first few days after Valentine’s Day were usually slow. After all, most people in relationships blew their flower budget before the 14th. This led to the shop being empty for most of the day. Your regulars still stopped by, men who would bring their partners flowers weekly and widowers bringing flowers to their passed-on loved ones.

These were the ones that gave you hope that love still existed. After the past few weeks, you weren’t so sure.

It was then that the small bell chimed above the door. You shovelled the last spoonful of leftover pasta into your mouth before you rushed out to the front to greet the customer. Distractedly, you fiddled with your apron as you walked around the corner. Oh, how you wished you would have been looking up.

When you lifted your head, there was a large, beaming smile on your face. It was gone within seconds.

Standing in front of you was Jake Seresin, the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped all over it.

Your face hardened into stone in a matter of seconds. The pilot looked like a kicked puppy, but that didn’t stop the vicious words flowing from your mouth before you could stop them.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, damn near spitting on him. “Honestly, Seresin, what the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just walk in here like this after what you’ve done?”

Jake was standing in front of you, mouth gapping like a fish. During your rant, the pilot had no chance to explain himself, not that you would give him one anyway. You finally paused. At this point, steam was nearly pouring from your ears.

When he didn’t say anything, you raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, something that had changed since the break-up. That prompted him to speak. Your name was whispered quietly as he took a step forward.

With a scoff, you retreated behind your desk and began focusing once more on your pile of flower orders. It was then that he began speaking. From across your shop.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” That elicited a harsher scoff from you. Where did this man get the nerve?

“Hangman,” You never called him by his call-sign. That was enough for Jake to know that his chances were less than slim. “You do not get to do this. You do not get to come into my place of business to try and hash out your personal issues.” The only reason you paused was to suck in some air before you continued.

Ever so slowly, you set your pen down and walked around the counter. Once you were close enough, you jabbed your finger into his chest. “I loved you.” Your voice cracked and tears welled in your eyes.

Memories from the past came rushing back. Memories filled with nothing but laughter. Memories surrounding that one, fateful night. The night that you had come home, a week before Valentine’s Day, only for Jake to drop the bomb that he wanted a break. That he was no longer in love with you. As hard of a pill as it was to swallow, you had come to terms with the reality that Jake was never the man you thought he was. You had realized that everything, all the whispered ‘I love you’s’ and promises made meant nothing to him.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop your finger from shaking. Regardless of that, your voice was firm.

Jake wasn’t one for crying. Hell, he hardly ever showed emotion. But as he stood in front of you, watching the consequences of his actions play out, he couldn’t stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek at your next words.

“And you used me.”

Thank you for the request anon! Send in some angst from this list :)

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boyfhee · 2 years

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⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 21 : how are you so sure

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w : angst ( 1.7k )

note : haha enjoy my slayers. can u tell i didn't want to write this?

you and riki are at the bakery again, and this time, it doesn’t feel like a place you used to like ever since you moved to korea. the walls look as if they’re ready to cave in any second, and you’re here suffocating in the silence.

“you can order something if you want,” he says finally, and they’re not the words you came here for. you’ve been waiting for this moment of truth for weeks and right now, riki can’t even look in your eyes while speaking.

“if you’re worried about me, it’s fi—”

“riki,” you sigh, half annoyed. procrastination isn’t what you’re looking for right now. “just tell me,” and you know the two of you have wasted enough time, which hasn’t resulted in anything better. if avoiding the truth had been beneficial, you would’ve won this game long ago.

“well, what do you want me to tell?” you hate the confidence in his voice. it scares you. his voice is faint but oddly stern, as if he’s scared but not of the truth, not of whatever consequences his actions could bring, but instead, he’s scared of what’s going inside your head. you’re unpredictable, riki never had the luxury of reading you like an open book. it eats him inside out to not know what you’re thinking. the fear that has been replicating inside the marrow of his bone is now diffusing into the blood.

but the stern look on his face still makes you uneasy. it makes him look right, and that certainly puts you in the wrong.

“the date with miya?” you say nonchalantly.

and riki sends you a look of confusion. “what date?”

“i’m here to hear things from your mouth, riki,” you lean back on the chair, letting your pride play its part. “if i had to answer the questions myself, i wouldn’t have come here,”

“yeah, well, you are hearing it from me; i don’t know what you’re talking about,” there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice, a pinch of unawareness. and then his mind goes back to the day you saw him at the bakery with miya, and suddenly things start falling into place. “i went to the bakery because she asked to see me. she said she would deny the dating statement and wanted to meet,”

your hands are getting colder. your face is turning paler, you could feel your heart aching, afraid it would stop beating any minute soon.

“and the texts about being at the gym?” you hesitate, a little unsure if you really want the answer to that question.

“i never sent them,” and it’s a response that shows you the depths of the mistakes that you’ve made out of impulse and assumptions. “i went to see miya, to try to convince her to deny the rumours. i went to pay and left my phone on the table. i don’t know how she knew the passcode,”

“by the time i could explain things to you, i realised it was too late. so, i decided to handle everything on my own,” his first mistake, he registered it in his head. “when i found out what she was doing, i stopped talking to her,”

it honestly didn’t make sense to him. it would be a lie to say riki didn’t trust miya. she was nice, friendly, welcoming, and treated him well. he had hoped for days the three of you would hang out together, but he never understood why you never liked her, or why no one from enhypen ever liked her. it never made sense while he had time in his hands, and when he saw the clearer picture, riki realised that the time had already slipped through the cracks of his hands.

“i—” as for you, you were busy fighting your own demons. “you could’ve told me, ‘ki,” now that you know the truth, how were you supposed to live on knowing he never did anything wrong?

how were you going to move on knowing you doubted him for things he didn’t do?

“i know,”

“then, why didn’t you?”you notice the way his eyes widen in disbelief when you raise your voice. “you knew things were getting out of hand yet and you still didn’t try to explain it to me. i don’t know what to make out of this,”

“i didn’t try to explain, and you? were you willing to listen, yn?” and now, he was raising his voice. you didn’t mind, it made the two of you equal. you like the sound of that, being equal and being equally responsible. “did you not outright ignore me everytime i told you that we needed to talk?”

“don’t put this on me,”

“you talk about all of our problems with jungwon and jay and everyone else, but me. you could’ve texted me instead of jungwon every time you had doubts, but you didn’t.” you want to talk back, your first instinct is to prove him wrong, but can you really?

and, how were you going to live knowing you made the same mistake that you’ve been hoping he wouldn’t make?

the truth can be avoided but only for so long. somewhere inside, you knew talking to riki would solve every problem the two of you were having, but insecurities got the best of you, and you were never the bravest one in the crowd. confrontations were scary, you had jungwon. it seemed like the perfect excuse to not talk to riki and solve things on your own.

“did you do it?” but maybe, it was time for you to ask the questions that have been cluttering your mind for quite a few days now.

“do what?”

“i don’t want to say it,” a pause, and then : “you know what i’m talking about,” maybe, it’s your way of making yourself feel better. your version of ignorance and avoiding problems. while you’re sitting here with every possibility in your hand pointing against the assumptions you had made about riki, a part of you tells you that your instincts were never all wrong.

“yn,” he whispers in disbelief.

“just answer me riki, did you date miya behind my back or not?” and riki doesn’t know but it hurts you more to have this conversation with him.

riki couldn’t believe your words for a brief moment. maybe, he’s hearing things, perhaps it’s the lack of sleep getting to him. sure, his relationship was on the verge of tearing apart, but never in his nightmares did he even expect to see a day where you would ask this question. you had the right, of course, he knew you had your doubts. he knew a day like this would come, but hearing you say it feels like taking a dagger to his heart. “i didn’t, god, i can’t even think of doing that, not even in my dreams, never.”

“how are you so sure?”

“because i love you,” he doesn’t wait a second before answering. “you’re the one i’m in love with and i can’t picture myself with someone else,” for some reason, you don’t know, his words don’t feel genuine anymore. you remember all the times he has told you the same words and the effect they had on you. you remember the nights you couldn’t sleep after reading the sweet nothing he sent you over text, the days you were out of your mind because of him. that is the kind of love you have experienced. so, anything less doesn’t feel real. words that don’t make you feel the same way don’t sound genuine anymore.

you take your time. a minute, another, and then another, and with every second passing in silence, it gets harder for him to breathe. you think it’s fine, you’ve been through this and you know he has too. had it been some other day, you would’ve trusted his words. if he had said it to you anytime sooner, you would’ve believed him. you think you still do, just not enough, not the way you would’ve if he had told those words before the very moment you were drowning in.

“i trust you,” a despairing sigh leaves your mouth. “i think i do,”

“are we okay?” and his words are full of hope.

“i don’t know,” it’s a clear-cut reply, no doubts, no questions. you aren’t certain of anything at this point. you see blue, fear creeping on your skin, finger tips dripping with guilt. there’s a question you’ve been wearing on your sleeves for months now. “riki, was there a point when you had feelings for miya?”

“what are you even—”

“yes or no?” you are sort of hoping he’d say yes. it would make the two of you equally responsible if your relationship falls apart, but that would be worse. you don’t think you can handle hearing that, because right now, you’re holding back your tears, the look in his eyes resembles a certain emotion. it’s guilt, and in his silence, you get your answer.

you aren’t in the right here. you’re not the only victim. the damages incurred are for both of you to handle, the responsibility is shared, but it feels like you’re paying a higher cost, because now that you know riki had feelings for miya while dating you, everything feels like a lie. every word, every hug, every kiss, it reminds you of the mere possibility that he was thinking about her while making promises with you that he knew were supposed to be broken.

the love he gave suddenly doesn’t feel like yours to keep anymore. and the thought of it is making you suffocate.

and, you realise leaving is better for the both of you.

is this the end of you two? maybe, maybe not. you had imagined how it would be— tears, apologies, anger. not like this, not in confusion and regret, not with the fear of everything being a lie rotting your flesh inside. he cheated but he also didn’t, you cheated but without having feelings for jungwon.

so, you ask yourself again, is this really the end?

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