#they can be a little into each other. as a treat

[hxney-lemcn]

Time for a Break — Housewardens x gn! reader

summery: it's the end of the year and you have nowhere to go...

tw: slight angst (Riddle, Idia, Malleus)

wc: 1.7k (~230 per character)

Master List

With nonstop overblots, exams, homework, studying, and keeping your friends in line, you hadn’t even realized that the end of the year was approaching rapidly. You could barely take in your end of the year grades before coming face to face with the fact that you have nowhere to go while everyone gets a summer break. Didn’t you deserve a break too? You felt like you were going to collapse and evaporate if you didn’t sleep in a bed that doesn’t have lumps. In a fit of despair, you go to the only person you can think of.

Riddle Rosehearts

Okay…so you are not allowed to come home with him. His reason for saying no is vastly different from his mothers reason. He doesn’t want to cause you any more stress, or have to hear his mother’s insults that she’ll inevitably spout towards you. No, instead he helps you ask Trey. Although Trey’s home already is a full house, his family welcomes you with open arms. All his siblings overcrowd you (no matter how much Trey tries to stop them), his parents ask many questions to get to know you better, and you end up sharing a room with Trey. All the while, you can’t help but think about Riddle, wishing you could find a way to get him out of his own personal hell. Over time, you and Trey visit Riddle, your only meetings being through his window. Every so often you’d bring Riddle a sweet treat that you learned how to bake either from Trey or his parents. As much as you enjoy having a break with such a lovely family, you can’t help wanting for the next school year to happen. Not for the school work, or the overblots (hopefully there won’t be any the upcoming year), but because you’ll get to see Riddle again, not through a window or with hushed whispers. But in person, speaking to each other freely once more. 

Leona Kingscholar

When you hinted about not having anywhere to go, hoping that the lion would take the bait and let you stay with him, he just ignored you. Didn’t even pretend to act like he was listening to you. Squinting your eyes, you stood up from his bed, announcing that Malleus might be willing to take you in…you couldn’t get far before Leona grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him and holding you close. Who said you could go and stay with that overgrown lizard? Wasn’t it obvious you were staying with him? You were scared of meeting his family, they were royalty and Leona had spoken bad of them. You had met his nephew, and little did you know that the boy had talked his parents ear off about you and Leona for a day before finding a new topic. Leona’s brother and sister in law welcomed you to their palace with open arms, greeting you warmly before excusing themselves. It was a bit to get used to, trying new foods, sleeping in a bed that was way too luxurious, being treated like royalty, becoming a nanny…yeah. You now realized one of the reasons why Leona dreaded coming back. As much as you adored Cheka…he could be a bit much. Overall, it's not the worst place to stay, but it would feel a bit lonely without Leona or Cheka around. 

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh boy…were you both that far in your relationship already? No? He’s just overthinking it? Okay, this was fine. He was a host after all, and he did owe you for basically saving his life…and being the one he loved. His only problem? His mother. As much as Azul loved his mother…he could not have her sharing his baby photos with you. He’ll have to work overtime over the summer to make sure that doesn’t happen (who is he kidding he can’t say no to his mom). How are you going to stay entire months under water? Who do you think he is? He’s got stocks of underwater breathing potions. When you meet his parents, you don’t have time to think before you’re swooped into a giant hug (probably the best damn hug you’ll ever get too). Then Azul is added to the hug and you're both being squished together. His mother loves you instantly, cooing over you both, feeding you some of the best food you’ve ever had while telling you embarrassing stories of Azul when he was just a little fry. Once again, you start seeing him in a new light, a much softer and loving one. He always tried to show you his gentlemanly and suave side, keeping just how soft of a person he was locked deep down, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Kalim Al-Asim

What do you mean you have nowhere to go? Weren’t you coming to his place? He would be honored to have you as a guest! Just think of all the sleepovers, dates, game nights, and kisses! Actually, he might’ve gone crazy if he was away from you for such a long time. Kalim’s family doesn’t mind either, they don’t even notice one more person in their extravagant palace. Instead of just being swarmed with siblings, you’ve got cousins and distant relatives around you as well. They have both good and bad intentions, some scheming on how to get closer to Kalim, and others scheming on how to get you to play hide and seek. Kalim is practically bouncing off the walls as he drags you down the halls on his grandiose tour. Laughing heartily over the feast his family calls dinner, then taking you on a breathtaking carpet ride above the Scalding Sands. Each day is a different adventure, and Kalim is the one leading you hand in hand into what awaits you both. Poor Jamil, Kalim only got ten times more impulsive as he tries to show you everything he loves (and buy you anything you eye for a second too long). Also…you are in a bit of danger being seen in public so close to Kalim and with how he shows how much he cares about you…

Vil Schoenheit

Do you think he’d let you stay at Night Raven College for months on end without supervision? You’re crazy. Just be prepared to be in a giant mansion alone for a bit. Vil goes without seeing his father for weeks on end, and he himself has a busy schedule. He’d love to take you with him, but unfortunately the media is as savage as a pack of wolves and would shred you apart without second thought. You didn’t mind too much, as long as you could get away from school for just a minute. With those warnings in mind, you were surprised to be greeted by servants taking your luggage to a spare room (right next to Vil’s) then being treated to a fantastic dinner with Eric, Vil’s father joining you two. Even Vil seemed surprised, asking his father about his latest movie. Eric only laughed, stating that he wanted to meet the person who caught his son's attention. You never felt too alone in the mansion, you’d get ready in the morning with Vil, seeing him off, doing your own thing for the day, and ending the night with a home prepared meal or going out to eat if Vil was feeling extra. On his days off, Vil would take you out, sometimes it would be to a spa, going shopping, or you forcing him to take a break and relax at home and watch some movies. You don’t think you could go back to that wack job of a school after getting a taste of luxury.

Idia Shroud

What. You want to go home with him? You do know where he lives right? You’d be totally isolated from all your other friends…you still want to come home with him? He supposes Ortho would be happy to have you around…fine, he just doesn’t like how excited his parents get when he asks for permission (after all he lives in a very secret location). He’s a bit overwhelmed at first, it seems like such an intimate scenario. You’re going to be living with him in the same house in a super secret base in the middle of nowhere. When you arrive, Idia tries not to shove you into his room and lock the door because his parents are non stop pestering you. Asking you about how you met Idia, how he was doing, and about you and your world. Thankfully for Idia, they had to rush back to work quickly, giving you a warm welcome and telling you to ask for anything if need be. To your surprise, Idia watched you like a hawk (and that’s the times you knew of). S.T.Y.X. was a dangerous place, and he’d be damned if he lost you like he lost Ortho. Be prepared to be trapped in a room lit with blue led lights and playing video games and watching anime until you feel your brain melting. Please bring some vitamin D…you’re not going to get enough sunlight. 

Malleus Draconia

Don’t worry child of man, he already has a room in his palace ready for you. Do you really think he was going to let you stay all alone (with Grim but okay) at Night Raven College? Of course not. You’re his precious child of man, he’ll make sure you get nothing but the best. Of course…he had to make sure his grandmother warmed up to you. You are a human after all, and she hasn’t had the best experience with them. Not to mention how his people will view him for bringing a commoner human into the castle and given the royal treatment. He doesn’t care. In fact, Malleus didn’t even think of such a thing, not until Sebek brought it up. When you arrived you felt overwhelmed as the servants bowed (you almost forgot that Malleus was standing next to you). He tried staying by your side for as long as he could, but as future king, he had many things to attend to. This left you on your own a bit, and you got acquainted with Maleficia. At first she terrified you, but over time you both warmed up to each other and Malleus found himself jealous with how much time you spent with her compared to him. All the while she found it amusing that her grandson was so hung up on a human…but she also found it heartbreaking. A fae falling for a human never had a happy ending, but she’s glad to know you’d take care of him well.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[writeriguess]

Hey hey! Love your works :) Can I get a Katsuki B x fem reader fic where they like each other but he is stubborn and refuses to admit it? Reader is like "We're more than friends and you know it".

Maybe something happens where Katsuki almost loses her and he finally confesses. First kiss included please! Thanks!

You’ve always been good at reading people, but Bakugou Katsuki? He’s a whole different challenge.

It’s been months now, this tension hanging between the two of you. Ever since you joined the agency, working alongside Katsuki, the air between you has been thick, almost unbearable at times. There’s an unspoken connection, like a live wire sparking between you, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

You try your best to be patient, to let him work through whatever stubbornness is holding him back, but lately, the friction has been building.

Another patrol together. Another day with him snapping at you over every little thing. You swear, if he blames you for one more trivial mistake, you’re going to lose it. And you do.

“Watch your damn back next time! You’re supposed to be a hero, not a liability!” Katsuki growls at you, his eyes narrowed into that familiar, fiery glare. The two of you just finished up a mission — a robbery gone south — and he’s pissed that things didn’t go smoothly. But of course, it’s your fault.

You whip around to face him, blood rushing in your ears. “Are you serious right now? You act like I wasn’t the one who saved your ass back there!” Your voice rises, and you feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I didn’t need your damn help,” he snaps back, stepping closer, towering over you with that broad, muscular frame of his. The air between you crackles, a dangerous charge that neither of you can ignore. “I had it under control.”

“Like hell you did!” You take a step forward, closing the gap between you, refusing to back down. You’re not afraid of him. “You were outnumbered, and you know it. I’m not your enemy, Katsuki. Stop treating me like one.”

His jaw tightens, the tendons in his neck flexing as he clenches his fists, palms sizzling faintly with restrained explosions. “I don’t need you to baby me. I’m not weak.”

“And I’m not a damn sidekick!” you shout, frustration boiling over. “I’m your partner. We’re supposed to be in this together, but you—” You stop yourself, realizing how close you are, chest heaving, eyes locked on his. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his presence overwhelming.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flicker for a moment, something unreadable passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced with that stubborn scowl you know all too well. He grits his teeth, lips curling in a sneer. “We’re not partners.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a second, you feel the sting of hurt settle deep in your chest. But then anger flares hotter than ever.

“Bullshit,” you hiss, stepping even closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “We’re more than friends and you know it. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel it, too.”

Katsuki freezes. His eyes widen, just a fraction, but you catch it. The way his breath hitches, the way his muscles tense, as if you just struck a nerve. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes.

You shake your head, feeling the frustration, the hurt, the longing all swirling together into a chaotic storm inside you. “You’re so damn stubborn,” you whisper, voice trembling. “You push me away like this, like you’re scared of what’s between us.”

His eyes narrow again, but this time, they’re not filled with anger. There’s something else there — something raw, something vulnerable, something you’ve never seen from him before.

“I don’t—” he starts, but his voice falters.

“You don’t what?” you challenge, heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t care? You don’t feel anything?”

He looks away, jaw clenched so tightly you can hear his teeth grinding together. His fists are still balled, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say anything.

The silence is deafening.

“Fine,” you mutter, turning on your heel. “If you won’t admit it, then I’m done. I can’t keep doing this.”

You walk away, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Your heart aches, your mind races, and all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. But before you can take more than a few steps, there’s a loud crash — an explosion.

It happens so fast.

Debris rains down from the building above, the one you’d just helped secure. One of the walls crumbles, massive chunks of concrete and steel plummeting toward you. You barely have time to react before the ground shakes beneath you, your body instinctively moving to shield yourself, but it’s too late.

A blinding pain shoots through your leg as you’re pinned under the rubble. The impact knocks the wind out of you, and your vision blurs. Dust fills the air, and the sounds of crumbling brick and twisted metal are deafening.

“Katsuki…” you breathe, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

And then he’s there.

Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, you feel a blast of heat, the sound of explosions ripping through the air as Bakugou demolishes the debris around you with precision. His hands grip the remains of the wall, shoving them aside with sheer force, his movements frantic and desperate.

“Don’t move,” he orders, his voice low and strained. There’s a wild look in his eyes, panic flashing through them as he kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he assesses the damage.

You wince, pain radiating through your body, but his presence is grounding. You’ve never seen him like this before — not Katsuki Bakugou, the unshakable, unstoppable hero. This is different. This is raw.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you manage to whisper, but even you don’t believe the words. You feel the blood seeping from your leg, the sharp pain making your vision swim.

“Shut up,” he snaps, but his voice cracks, betraying the fear he’s trying to hide. “Just— Just hold on. You’re not— I’m not gonna let you die.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, exhaustion and pain weighing you down. But you feel his hands on you, gentle in a way you didn’t think was possible. You hear the strain in his voice, the way his breath hitches as he fights to keep it together.

“Katsuki…” you murmur, your fingers weakly reaching for his hand. You’re scared. More scared than you’ve ever been. But he’s here. That’s all that matters.

“Damn it,” he curses under his breath, his hand gripping yours tightly, almost painfully. “You’re not leaving me. You hear me?”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but your voice falters. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

And then, you hear it.

“I— I can’t lose you.” His voice is raw, broken, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before. “I— Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I— I love you, okay? I love you, and I should’ve said it sooner, but I—”

His words blur in your fading mind, but you catch enough. Your heart clenches, and despite the pain, you feel a warmth bloom inside you.

“I love you, too…” you whisper, just before everything goes dark.

When you finally wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Soft, comforting warmth, like sunlight after a storm. Your body is heavy, but the pain is dulled, replaced by a numbness that you recognize as medical treatment.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of the hospital room. And then, you see him.

Katsuki is sitting beside you, slumped forward in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his head hanging low. He looks exhausted, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. But he’s here.

“Katsuki…” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

His head snaps up instantly, eyes wide as he looks at you. Relief floods his features, followed quickly by something else — something softer, more tender.

“Idiot,” he mutters, standing up and moving to your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You smile weakly, still groggy. “You were scared?”

“Tch.” He avoids your gaze, his face turning red. “Shut up.”

But then, before you can say anything else, his hand reaches for yours, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s fierce and gentle all at once. It’s everything — all the tension, all the frustration, all the unspoken feelings between you finally breaking free.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice low, but there’s no hesitation now. No stubbornness. “I love you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

And for the first time, there’s no more pretending, no more pushing each other away. Just you, and him, and the truth that’s been there all along.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[avocado-writing]

Not a request but just imagine DP & Logan taking such good care of you on your birthday.

Literal Princess/Prince/Royal treatment.

God and don’t even get me started on how good they’d be to you in the bedroom. Logan and Wade always make sure to treat you good but just imagine how much more special they’d try to make it.

You wanna be Eiffel towered? Absolutely it’s your birthday

You want them both in one hole? Deal. Logans already rock hard and Wade’s grabbing the lube.

You just wanna watch them fuck? Wade’s never been more in love with you.

minors dni

”can I watch you two fuck? please?”

you say the question with doe eyes and twisting hands, like you’re asking to stay out late rather watch your boyfriends go to town on each other. Logan chokes on his mouthful of beer at the unexpected request. Wade lights up.

“pookie, I love you. marry me,” he says, deadpan earnest. you giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss. Logan harrumphs but doesn’t seem too sour about it, it’s been a nice celebration of your birthday after all; taking you to all your favourite places, watching you light up at the fancy café they treated you to lunch at, spoiling you rotten in every shop you wandered into.

so maybe this is just the icing on the cake for you. who are they to deny you every single little thing you want? you’re worth indulging after all, and they both love you. (they love each other too, but those confessions are left for hazy post-coital cuddles which slip into sleep).

“fine,” Logan sighs, as if it’s some great feat, as if he hasn’t been inside Wade a dozen times already. you squeak and clap with joy before sprinting into the bedroom.

“cmon, old guy. keep up,” Wade says with a wink and a slap to Logan’s ass. he growls a warning… but follows anyway.

you set yourself up in the chair in the corner of the room, grabbing one of the bottles of lube the three of you have stored around the place and throwing it to Wade. he likes to make a show of stripping for you, you whoop when he takes his shirt off and swings it around. Logan is more utilitarian about it, tugging his flannel over his head and his jeans off his legs, pushing Wade down into the mattress the first chance he gets. Wade yelps and you gasp in anticipation, hand crawling lower on your body.

”oh, buy a girl dinner first…” Wade hums, Logan silences him with a ferocious kiss. the kind which has their teeth colliding. out the corner of his eye he’s aware of you shucking off your shorts, dipping your fingers in your underwear to start touching yourself. Logan ruts his hips against Wade’s, grinning against his lips at how into this he’s getting.

“Mouth, you talk a big game for someone who gets this hard just from being kissed.”

“you think that’ll work on me? I like being bullied, it makes me cum. get back down here.”

Wade tugs him by his blowjob tufts and kisses him longer, before letting his hand reach down to cradle Logan’s cock.

“slow down, Red. we gotta put on a show, remember?”

they turn to where you watch mesmerised, bucking up into your own hand, mouth soft and agape at the sight before you. you grin.

“I like being in the director’s chair. Wade, can you get on top?” you breathe, pleading. you both look to Logan for his confirmation, and he nods. fuck it, why not. it’s your birthday after all.

“as you wish,” Wade says in a perfect mimicry of Princess Bride, and flips Logan back-down into the mattress.

they go slow for you, and you eke out your orgasms to their lovemaking. Wade bends Logan over and eats him out as you instruct him what to do with his tongue. Logan uses your favourite toy to stretch Wade open. when they fuck their eyes are half glued to each other, half wandering to you sweaty and writhing on that damn chair. once they start properly, it doesn’t take long for them to both finish, making a mess on the bed. you come around your fingers and whine in pleasure.

Logan waits for you to relax before picking you up off the chair. you squeak.

“Lo—!”

“what, you think you’re not gettin’ a turn?”

he places you into Wade’s willing arms, and you feel they’re both beginning to get hard again. ah, the inevitable exhaustion which comes from dating two mutants.

“happy birthday, baby…”

“boys…”

it’s the last word you’re able to say for a while.

[masonmontz]

heeey, hope you like it:)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff 🥹 word count: 2,7k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Jaz asked while the two of you were having afternoon coffee in a bakery in Manchester. “You've been quiet since we got here.”

“I'm all worked up, don't worry, it's nothing” your smile didn't reach your eyes and Jaz noticed, and even though you've only known each other for a short time, anyone would realize that there was something bothering you.

You and Mason had been officially dating for a little over two months, but you had met his family before that and you loved them all, it was really great spending the holidays with them in Greece.

“You can tell me, you know, don't you?” she held out her hand and you lightly squeezed her hand across the table, smiling once more and nodding. “Is it something with Mason?”

“Jaz, don’t worry, I’m fine” she rolled her eyes and you smiled, trying to push the thought that had been haunting you for a few weeks to the back of your mind, but it was inevitable.

“Okay, so let's go, I'm already missing my girls” she murmured and you smiled, remembering the photo Mason sent you minutes ago where Summer was putting makeup on him and Mila was trying to put bows in his hair. “Should we take a pie?”

“Please, lemon pie is the best ever” you almost groaned when you saw a lemon pie on the counter, so Jaz went over and asked to wrap it up. “Debbie wants us to stop by the grocery store to pick up something for dinner?”

“She texted me to say she was making lasagna. I've come to Manchester and I need to spend the day at the gym because all I do is eat.”

“She likes to spoil Mason.”

“This is ridiculous, she never makes food like this for me, only for her big baby” you couldn't help but laugh, because they were clearly jealous of the way Debbie treats Mason, and Mason loves being spoiled by them, even though the family is now full of children and he is a grown man.

“He takes advantage because he knows she does everything for him.”

“That little devil, was the same thing when he was a child.”

You and Jaz got along really well, the girls adored you too, and you were in love with Mason's nieces and nephew, but it was sad because Stacey lived far away.

You love Mason and his family so much that it hurts, especially because your family lives far away and you miss being welcomed by them, and you found comfort in your boyfriend. However, Mason never said he loved you.

Of course, everyone has their own time and maybe he isn't ready to take that step in such a new relationship, but you listen and notice how easily he says “I love you” to his family. You just wish he would tell you he loves you too.

“Hey, had fun with Jaz?” Mason asked when you arrived at his house, he hugged you and left a kiss on your lips. “I missed you, babe. My family is stealing you from me.”

“They just think I’m cooler than you” you murmured and Mason laughed. Summer ran to you and you walked away from Mason, walking behind her to the coffee table where she was coloring pictures.

“Do you want to color with me? Uncle Masey didn't want to, he said he was tired.”

“Tired, uh?” you asked and looked at Mason who just shrugged and laid down on the couch, because he hadn't done anything all day. “Summer, I'm going to take a shower and then I'll color with you, okay?”

You walked upstairs to take a shower in Mason's bedroom bathroom, and luckily you had some clothes at his place or you would have had to go to your apartment to get them. Mason walked into the room just as you entered the bathroom, you smiled as he followed you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, the same way you two do when you're talking in the bathroom.

“I just need some silence, I'll watch you take a shower” you rolled your eyes as you took off your clothes, ignoring Mason's gaze all over your body.

“Hey, the doctor texted me, I think I'm going to need to go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow” you said, remembering the message the doctor sent you this morning. You were hospitalized for days a month ago because of severe headaches, and now you are being monitored by two doctors to see if everything is okay.

“But are you feeling any pain?” Mason asked worriedly and you quickly shook your head, watching him sigh in relief.

“They want to do new exams, I'm fine. You have training tomorrow, don't you?”

“Yes, but I'll go with you to do the exams and then I'll go to Carrington.”

“No need, Mason, I can go alone.”

“Okay, but call me and text me” you smiled at him, and Mason actually looked worried about you.

Again you thought he hadn't said “I love you” to you yet, and you looked down as you washed your hair and Mason hummed a song under his breath.

“Hey, I bought you something” Mason spoke and left the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and you could see him walking past the bedroom with a gift box which he placed on the bed before heading back to the bathroom. “I think you'll like it.”

“What is it?”

“You will open it and see, be patient.”

Mason continued talking to you for ten minutes until you finished your shower, and he stayed there until you put on another set of clothes and organized the bathroom.

“Do you want me to dry your hair?” he asked and you looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, Mason was behind you and you smiled feeling love all over your chest. Mason stood up when you nodded, and he looked for the hairdryer he uses when he is really late.

You wanted to cry as you watched Mason drying your hair calmly, focused and sometimes smiling at you. Maybe he doesn't love you, but he definitely likes you, because no man would ever do that, right?

You looked at the floor, feeling your eyes fill with tears and blinked a few times to keep from crying. Mason noticed and turned off the dryer, turning you to face him.

“What’s wrong, babe? You've been quiet for a few days” you didn't want to tell him the real reason you were crying because you were ashamed of doubting his feelings.

“I’m a little bit worried” you said referring to the exam you will take tomorrow, and Mason hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Nothing will happen, you’re fine and healthy and we will spend our lives together.”

“Really? Do you want to spend your life by my side?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to?” you shrugged and smiled, but it still wasn't the answer you needed. “C’mere, let's open your present and put a smile on that face.”

You wiped away some tears and smiled at Mason as he pulled you over to the bed where he had placed the gift. It was a pink package with hearts drawn on it and you felt bad about tearing it, but you still pulled the package open to see what was inside.

“It's heavy, it must have been expensive” you muttered and Mason rolled his eyes.

“You can't guess the price because of the weight” he said and laughed. “Open, open.”

You swear you had stopped crying, but you started crying again as soon as you saw the gift Mason bought for you. Big tears fell as you held the box and cried. Mason stood up worriedly, hugging you.

“What’s wrong? You didn't like it?” You hugged him tightly, crying into his chest and letting your emotions take over.

“It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received.”

You held the box to look at the book nook of a village in Greece, the same one you visited when you were there on vacation. Every detail caught your attention and you couldn't speak as you sobbed, hugging Mason once more.

“Did you like it? I thought of you when I saw it, and you can put it on your bookshelf.”

“I loved it. Thank you, Mase.”

“Stop crying, okay? I just want to see you happy.”

“They are tears of happiness.”

“I'd rather see a smile on your lips.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Y/n, we're going to keep you under observation tonight, okay? Your exams are altered and we need to do new exams to check if everything is okay” Doctor Reid said as he entered the room, and you sighed sitting in the hospital hallway, because it would be another long night alone in that scary place.

“But am I okay?” your heart was racing and deep down you were scared. Since you were hospitalized for the first time this has been consuming you.

“No need to worry, we just need to be sure of the result to know which medicine you can take.”

“Okay” you murmured a little in relief, and a nurse arrived and took you to the room where you would spend the night. You hated the hospital, especially being alone there for a whole night with a needle in your arm.

You sent Mason a message saying that everything was fine but he didn't reply to you, so you just talked to the nurses who were giving you medicine and making the bed where you would stay.

Half an hour later Mason appeared in the hospital room with your pink bag that he probably filled with things and a black one.

“Hey, no need for all this, it's just one night” you said seeing how many things he brought, so Mason left everything on the armchair and walked towards you.

“I'm worried, are you sure you're okay, love?” he asked and left a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips. “One bag is mine.”

“Why? You don't have to stay here, you can stay with your family.”

“Only in your dreams will I leave you alone in the hospital, Y/N.”

“No, seriously, Doctor Reid said it's just for some tests, you can't leave your family alone there, they came to see you.”

“Hey, I'm going to stay here and I already told the coach that I'll be late tomorrow.”

You huffed, because there was nothing you could say to make Mason change his mind.

He just lay down next to you on the hospital bed, and kept you company for hours until he went to the hospital cafeteria to get something for you both to eat. He came back and stayed by your side the whole time, and when you fell asleep, Mason held you close to him and kissed your hair, snuggling into you and sleeping too, because where you are is where he feels good.

“Thank you for spending the night with me at the hospital” you said as soon as Mason dropped you off at your apartment, and he was already late for practice but didn't seem to care.

Luckily, the doctor said everything was fine and there was no reason to worry anymore, he just prescribed you some medicine to take when you have other headaches.

“You know I would stay by your side in the hospital for a month if necessary” he mumbled and you smiled, hugging him one last time before he ran off because he was late.

“I love you” you yelled, and Mason just blew you a kiss before closing the door.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason has been traveling with the team and you are increasingly drowning in the thoughts that he doesn't love you. You cried a few times alone at home, watching a romantic movie or seeing someone post love quotes on the internet.

You're at rock bottom.

You were so lost in your own thoughts crying while watching The Longest Ride that you didn't notice Mason entering your apartment.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked and you got scared, trying to wipe away your tears so he wouldn't see, but it was too late.

“I'm just crying because of the movie” you pointed at the screen right at the moment Luke is picking up Sophia for a date, and there was no reason to cry.

“Hey, I know you, there's been something bothering you for days and you still haven't told me what it is. I'm getting worried and so is my mum, she said you've been quiet.”

Mason pulled you from the couch and you let more tears fall, you stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

“I don't want to look like a fool.”

“You know I’d never think that of you, love” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“It's just that…” you stopped, unable to speak, but Mason encouraged you. “Do you love me?”

“What?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing, but you cried when he didn't answer.

“You never said you loved me, and it's okay if you don't feel anything-” Mason put his hand over your mouth when you sobbed, and he stopped you from continuing to speak.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're crying over this, baby” Mason held back his laughter. “Do you think I don't love you?”

You shrugged and looked at him with sad eyes.

“I said I love you several times” he murmured.

“No, you never said, actually.”

“I said yeah. I showed it. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my whole family. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my friends. I showed you I love you when I took you on a trip with my family because I know they would love you as much as I do.”

His heart was racing, and Mason continued speaking.

“I show you that I love you every day. I show you that I love you when I buy you books, when I take you out to dinner. I love you so much that I bought you a book nook from Greece for you to put among your books because it was our first trip together.”

“I showed you that I love you when I stayed by your side in the hospital for an entire night, and don't get me wrong, it wasn't to get something in return, I did it because I love you and I wouldn't leave you alone.”

“I- I” you sobbed as Mason hugged you. Now you look like a fool, because you were so focused on the words that you didn't pay attention to everything Mason does for you every day. “I’m sorry.”

“If you need to hear it, I'll say it. I love you. I love you so much Y/n that it hurts. I love you so much that I would spend a week eating your failed recipes just to make you happy. I would listen to Taylor Swift for the rest of my life just to show you that I love you. I love you.”

You were laughing and crying, and Mason was smiling too as he pulled you to sit next to him on the couch.

“I can tell you that I love you every day if you want, but I prefer to show you.”

“I'm such an idiot, my God. It's just that you say that you love your family all the time and you've never said it to me even the times I've said it.”

“Because they have the habit of saying I love you and that's why I do it, but I say I love you when I'm stuck to you all the time and don't want to let go.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“No, love, you know you don't.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Sorry I didn't realize you wanted to hear it.”

“No, I want you to show me.”

“Ah, you don't even know what you want” he said and kissed you.

“I know exactly what I want. You. For the rest of my life.”

[notsoverymerry]

lucky trip (k.ys x reader)

<kang yeosang x fem!reader> summary: On a particularly tiring work trip, you're forced to share a room with Yeosang; only there seems to be a problem with your sleeping arrangement… genre/warnings: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of pet names a/n: sure let me know anything you want! don't hold back, bby < 3 word count ~3.3k

KQ Entertainment greeted you with a piece of great news this morning. There's going to be a trip to Sokcho Beach to film a show segment. Two days and one night, and you can try yourself out as a camera operator.

Starting out in college, you weren't so sure you'd make it. Sound and video equipment is great; you always wanted to be the one in charge of setting it and making sure it works properly. Really, it's a perfect job that allows you to use your brain, and you've got a great one at that, and provides room for creativity and exploring hobbies in a workplace. You're curious about how they do weather reports and want to keep up with sports? Try to secure a place in a news studio. Want to go to concerts for free? Welcome to the venue setting-up team. Come to think of it, you'll see a show free of charge, and they'll pay you for it. Isn't is a dream come true? Working for an entertainment company was not something you expected to pick, yet it proved to be the right choice. Sure, it took a while before your company got rich enough to grant a decent, steady salary, but the results were worth it. The team was full of talented, ambitious people, and the tight setting laid out a path for you to become a true found family. You and other staff members cared deeply for each other, always ready to offer a piece of advice or listen to your problems. The band members, Ateez, were also sweet and kind, treating staff respectfully and being friendly overall. So, when you were picked for a short working trip, you felt excitement. You're going to be surrounded by friends, you're going to do your best to help create entertaining content for fans, and you're going to see a part of Korea you haven't visited before. Win-win, win. Bonus points if there's food you didn't try yet. The ride on the bus was a little less chaotic than you expected. At first, things were pretty usual: Ateez bickered and made jokes, and you and your team laughed, sometimes awkwardly. Despite the elevated mood all were in, bad traffic and members' exhaustion got the best of them. Hongjoong was the first to fall asleep, others following suit quickly. Sat closest to them, you turned the camera off for the remainder of the ride. Now you could admire Yeosang's sleeping frame and get some rest as well. Oh, he was just so beautiful, so peaceful like this. He caught your attention first. He was so polite and sweet, and a little clumsy. When everyone was on the brink of mental breakdown before their debut, he used to stride nervously around the building, bumping into you with enviable regularity. He nearly broke your DI and stage box unit, and thus, your conversation started. You weren't mad, you get it he was stressed, and he was thankful. Like that, a friendship blossomed. During breaks, he'd ask you about your week or if you finished that show you were into. You'd ask how their recent choreo's coming together or if he'd finally discovered a new favorite dish. You'd blabber something about new lighting or broken audio cables, and he'd always pick fried chicken over anything. You found him delightful. He found that he didn't care that much about cables, but still wanted to listen to you anyway. You're really passionate about your job. Your eyes sparkle when he comments on the sound being set just right for his earpiece. You can make puns about your gadgets all day long, and if Wooyoung rolls his eyes at the third one, Yeosang considers them actually funny (are they?). You're just so vibrant and so pretty, and he wants to be around you longer. Maybe he should learn to set up and help you. He thinks it could be a good idea. Maybe he should just ask you out on a date. Seonghwa thinks this idea is better.

It took about nine hours to film the first part of the show. You tried to set things up as fast as possible. Hopefully, by the end of it, you won't be completely spent. You really want to take some time to walk around; take in the scenery, breathe fresh air, and reflect on life. The beach is wide and clean; the guide said there'll be illumination until late at night, it'll probably look really nice. The water is very clear, almost looks like a pool. You just want to admire the view without needing to control the picture frame or panic that someone might get hurt. Work-free, beer in hand, ocean gazing. What could be better?  Ocean gazing with Yeosang, probably. The whole crew settled down to have a quiet one at the end of the shift. Ateez seemed to have woken up completely, now lively chatting amongst themselves, waiting for you to put the rest of the equipment away for the night. Fresh air and cold beer will do that to you. You can feel eyes linger on your busy form. Turning around, you're met with his dark eyes. He follows your movement, not realizing that he's been caught until getting nudged in his side. Oh, now he's going to be teased the whole night. ''Wanna join them? You did great today, y/n, go have some fun.'' Your colleague tries to send you off.  You like to imagine you're smooth and nonchalant about your crush on a young and very attractive singer. Your friends, though, would use other words to describe it. What is it, let's see… Tangible? Painfully obvious? Yeah, that's the one. So they try time and time again to encourage you to confess. They leave you two in the room under a variety of excuses and give you tasks that would force you to go up to him unnecessarily often. Their efforts seem to go around both of your heads. You and Yeosang like to call yourselves very good friends. Everyone around you likes to call you fools. Just so you know.  ''It's okay. I think it's time we head to the hotel. Still plenty of work tomorrow, let's get some sleep.'' ''Yeah, about that…'' You do not like the sound of that. ''We might have got the number of rooms wrong.'' What's that supposed to mean? You're not sure you understand where this conversation is going. How can you even get the number of rooms wrong?

''Wait. No, no.'' ''Yes, you're sharing a room with Yeosang, yes.'' She sounds apologetic, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, per se. ''He knows and he's okay with it!'' How did your sweet evening at the beach turn into a full-scale anxiety fair so fast? Of course he'd agree to share a room; he's way too nice. You should do a breathing exercise. It's just one night, and you're both tired, and you both have to get up early, so surely you will sleep. Just sleep. Nothing unusual, you'll wash up and get in bed. Yeah. You shouldn't worry about it. He probably doesn't even think of it much. Oh, god, what if you snore? With your heart beating out of your chest and your head heavy with thoughts, you got to your designated room at last. 

You don't know how much time you spent at the door, but you couldn't find the courage to enter. Maybe you'll be lucky and he'll already be asleep.  ''Oh, y/n!'' Well, shit. ''What are you doing? Did you forget your key?'' ''Yeosang! No, I was just waiting for you. To enter, you know?'' ''Such an intricate moment. I'm glad you want to experience it with me.'' Y/n.exe has stopped working. Did he mean it? You should ask what he means; you do not need misunderstandings, not with him.  But out comes, ''More like I want you to enter first to see if there's any entities present.''  Hu chuckles and reaches in his pocket for the key. The thing that comes next is something you were definitely not prepared for. You shared rooms with your friends before. The number of beds equals the number of people, right? Not today. A minute of silence hung in the air, and Yeosang let out a breath of confusion. ''Why— why are there so many beds in here?'' He asked, bewildered. 

In a relatively small room stood four twin beds. Adorned with— you do not care about artistic interior description right now. Four beds. Did you and Yeosang both get the room number wrong? You giggle. You don't know why.  ''I'm calling dibs on this one,'' you say, as you flop down on one of the beds near the window. The view is nice; you can see the waves a little afar, but you can't hear them from here. Yeosang settles on another bed by the window. You guide your eyes his way to find him already looking at you. You feel soft. Seen and appreciated. He can't just do that — to look at you like you're everything he's ever wanted. It's ufair. A soft smile is tugging on his lips, cheeks and neck tinted pink from alcohol. Suddenly, he errupts in a fit of laughter.  ''What's so funny?'' you inquire. ''We have four beds! Just for the two of us. And you're beautiful. Gosh, y/n, you're so beautiful and pretty and amazing…'' He's blabbering rather happily. It takes a moment to register what he said. You're beautiful… And it's funny. No, you don't get this man. Watching your face now very carefully, Yeosang reaches his hand for you. Too far. He can't touch you, and he's disappointed, and it shows.  ''Wanna touch you,'' he pouts. It sounds much less happy and way more needy than he had planned.  Your body moves on its own. There's an unexplainable gravity force that pulls it on his bed, a little too close for a friendship. His hands cup your face, and he sighs, relived. He wanted to feel your warmth for so long. Seeing how compliant you are, how there seems to be no hesitation in letting him near and into your personal space, and how content you look in his presence, he doesn't understand why he's never done it before. ''Yeosang,'' your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. ''What are you doing?''

He doesn't know. So, instead of answering his lips do something better. They touch yours. You can't believe it's happening. The moment your lips meet, he nearly moans. You feel so good. The kiss is head-spinning; it knocks the breath right out of your chests. He presses into you with demand, hands circling your waist to bring you closer. You don't want this moment to end. Yeosang is holding you in his arms like you'd disappear if he let go. Heat waves pulsate through your body; the way his hands linger on you makes wetness drip down your folds. You hug him back, clinging onto his hoodie like a lifeline. The room feels colder all of a sudden, and Yeosang thinks he can't let go of your hot form now. So he turns on the mattress a little and fumbles around so he can bring you to his lap. He brings your faces close once more, this time it's more heated, it's teeth and tongue and desperation. You feel his growing excitement press over your core. His mouth leaves yours to discover your neck is so sensitive for him. He's had a bit of beer, but it's your soft whimpers and mewls that get him really drunk. His hand slithers to grab and squeeze your ass. The sounds you're making are angelic, and your hands weave through his hair to tug at his strands, and it's just so right, he can't help thrusting into you.  ''Is this okay, y/n? Hmm?'' He breathes out, face back up to level with you, and his lips brush your cheek.  You nod; it takes all your brain capacity to let him know you want it too — forming words became a heavy task. Your confirmation is all he needs to lift you up and change positions, now hovering over you. He looks at you again, with shining eyes. A bit disheveled, hot, and bothered. He pushes your hair out of your face tenderly. This small action causes your heart to contract. Paitience wearing thin, you draw him back to you. 

''Do you have protection?'' ''Ye- yes, it's in my bag somewhere.'' You feel a cold prick at your skin when he stands up to roam in his belongings for a condom. It's lonely like this. All the other beds abandoned in the room must feel like icebergs, their covers rimy and uninviting. The second he's back on top of you is like a sunrise, you think. There's another kiss, the I'm sorry I had to leave kiss. He works on taking your top off. Exposed to his advances, your chest and collarbones get all the attention. His knee is between your legs, and when he bites your tender skin, you start to grind. He follows suit, now both of you groaning, trying to get rid of the rest of your clothes in a hurry.  There's plenty of great pleasures in the world, but nothing compares to the feeling of his skin on yours. To have him roam and clutch on your body everywhere he wants. You can't wait anymore; you want him, so you lean to kiss his neck up to his ear, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth. His little whimper trickles like honey down your legs. He can't seem to take his hands off you. Calling his name in a whine, your lips form a pout.  ''Please, Yeosang. I need you.'' ''I am right here, baby. It's alright, I'll take care of you.'' The nickname makes you clench around nothing. The friction that felt so good is gone; he moves his thigh away a bit so he can put on a condom. Yeosang thinks you look unreal. He wants to take his time exploring your body with his tongue, wants to mark you all over. Claim you so everyone knows. He'd spend hours eating you out, making you see stars behind your eyelids, and cry his name. He knows he can treat you right, the way you deserve to be treated. But he's so hard it almost hurts, and you look hurt he moved away from you at all. How can he ever leave his baby, even at an arm-length? So he rushes to your form and grabs your legs from under your thighs to yank you to him. You're mesmirised. You'd never think you wanted to be manhandled. But it's him, Yeosang, and it's so, so hot. His toned body glistens in the dim light coming from the window. Touching him is like heaven on earth, his muscules are tense under your fingers, and delicious sounds escape his throat. He pushes in slowly, savoring every emotion on your face. You are in bliss, hips start bucking onto him. ''Slowly, baby, I'm not going anywhere,'' Yeosang coos. 

He trusts steadily, drinking up every moan and breath you make. His own pleasure escapes him in the form of small grunts, making goosebumps run around your body. He ravishes your bare chest and collarbones in kisses and licks, wanting to mark you so badly. You are so tight and warm, your nails dig into his back, and he loses himself in the feelings completely. He speeds up and finally lets his teeth sink into the dip where your shoulder and neck meet. You mewl at the sensation; your wals flutter around his shaft.  ''What a nice little sound, baby. I think I'll bite there again.'' If your eyes didn't shut at all the pleasure he's giving you, he'd see endless dark pools your pupils turned into. All for him. Though his eyes were just the same. His lust takes over him more and more, thrusts getting deeper and harder. The way you pull at his hair lets him know you're enjoying yourself, too. The room is filled with wet sounds, skin slapping against skin, and your moans getting louder. Both of you won't last much longer.  You're a hot mess, stuttering pleas and praises and his name like a mantra. His voice is deep and full of relish, you want to record it, keep it all to yourself, and listen to it twenty-four seven. You feel so proud for making him feel this good. Your orgasm washes over like a tidal wave. It builds inside and makes you clench around Yeosang, nails leaving marks on his back. He stares at your face contorted in pleasure, feeling that impossible tightness bring him closer to his own high. ''That's good, baby, keep doing that, oh, god—'' He pulls you close so your body is pressed against his own. His hips stilling, he spills inside the condom with a groan. He's never felt so good.

Neither of you move for a moment. You need to catch your breath, and you just don't want to let go of him. Reluctantly, he tears himself off of you to clean the both of you a little. Settling into the sheets with you, he sighs and wraps his arms around you again. Your voice breaks the comfortable silence of your afterglow.  ''That was… amazing. The best sex I've had. I— I don't know how I'm gonna look you in the eyes tomorrow.'' ''Oh…'' Comes his reply. He didn't think about that. Honestly, he didn't think at all, you kind of overtook all regions of his brain. Probably even before this night.  ''I— Listen, y/n, I didn't want to do it this way. Truth is, I really like you… Shit, it probably is the worst time to ask and the worst confession you've ever heard in your life, but'' he sighs again, and there's a hint of nervousness in the way his fingers trace patterns on your arm irratically. ''Go out with me?''  He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, lip stuck between his teeth in anticipation. Who ever told him he could pass as a doberman? ''Yeah, okay, I'll go out with you,'' you're trying to be smooth. Is it working? ''Really? Great!''  Good thing Yeosang doesn't care if you're smooth in the slightest. 

The next day starts off with a headache and a violent impulse to sleep in. If only you weren't stuck in the hotel with your colleagues. Surprisingly, Yeosang and you make it through the day without a trace of awkwardness or tension, keeping things professional and conversations light. The team is too busy working to tease you. The boys in Ateez also seem rested, even more energetic than the day before. Take the captain away from the studio to a nice beach… and he actually sleeps, huh.  On the ride back, you get a text from Yeosang asking when you're going to be free to go on a date. Your giddiness does not go unnoticed. Just then your friends decide to ask if there were any complications in your sleeping arrangement, a mischevous twinkle dances in their eyes. Time to get back at them.  ''Not at all! Our room was quite nice, and the view was great. We had four beds all to ourselves. Right, Mr. Kang?'' He offers a polite smile and nods at you and several curious sets of eyes turned his way. You're the only one to notice his eyes dart to your lips for a split second.  ''You had… four beds..?'' Your staff friends seem confused. They definitely had a different idea in mind. Hongjoong seems weirdly offended. ''Oh, so you get four beds, and I have to endure Seonghwa drooling on my arm all night?'' You definitely got the wrong room. Good for you. 

[guiltyreverie]

Remedy

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader

content tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, gojo being an ass (what’s new lmao), arranged marriage, clan issues

Warnings: NSFW mdni, toxic relationship, heartbreak, self doubt and insecurities, rough oral sex, m!receiving, f!receiving, praise kink, light punishment kink, rough blowjob, no actual sex yet, this is my first time writing smut so bear with me ok 😔, not proofread tbh, buckle up this is one heck of a ride :))

A/n: I’m not sure how many parts this will have as of now (kind of going with the flow)

Summary: When Gojo confessed his feelings for you, you couldn’t have been any happier - you were a fool

Word count: 8.3k

“Shut up, Satoru. Or we’ll get caught.”, you giggle into his neck.

“What are you gonna do, hmm?”, he grins and his hands wrap tightly around your waist pulling you closer towards him, the giddy feeling in your stomach only increasing with every minute you guys spend together.

The both of you have rarely spent time apart, ever since your engagement party three months ago, almost every day, you’d hang out and go on several dates. It’s almost too good to be true but here you were all shits and giggles and embracing whatever comes next as long as he’s here, with you.

Right now you were in an unoccupied class room, skipping a class, prefering to hang out with each other more.

You roll your eyes at his mischievous smile and kiss him: “I can do that?”, you plant several kisses down his jawline up to his neck, his grasp tightening around you and you were sure you almost heard him whimper when you reached a spot right above his collarbone.

He chuckled nervously: “Now, come on, sweetheart”, he clears his throat and takes a step back, his face flushed and a certain uncertainty sparked in his eyes.

You take that as a cue that you were breaching a boundary and awkwardly step back as well; the slight sting in your chest was almost like a slap to the face, an insecurity you thought had vanished is gnawing at the back of your head but you respected him and his wishes - if he wanted you to stop, you would.

“Hey,”, he stares at you contemplating, something for a second - did he see the doubt building inside of you? If yes, he chose to ignore it, because soon after he grabs your hand and nudges you to follow him outside, his reasoning being ‘we wouldn’t want to miss all of our classes today.’.

You shrug the gnawing feeling off of you, not wanting to be so insecure in your relationship so early on and cause unnecessary drama, you just need to get yourself sorted out. You let him drag you outside to your next class, in the meantime you try to dissolve the mess inside your head - maybe if you ignored it, it would disappear.

When Satoru turns towards you, you quickly smile at him and he winks at you; he lets go of your hand and instead wraps his arm around your neck.

“There’s this nice restaurant in Shibuya, if you want to we can go check it out after school. Maybe a little shopping beforehand?”, he kisses the side of your head, “How does that sound?”.

“Your treat?”, you grin at the mention of a date and were already gushing about what to wear in your head - you had to call Haname for help later.

“Of course, my treat. Anything for my girl.”, he smiles at you, your cheeks flush and you slightly hit him as some sort of compensation; you were so flustered at being called ‘my girl’ you fail to notice the slight guilt glimmering in his eyes.

Right now, you were so content with everything, you almost start to skip in your steps (girl is head over heels istg 😭).

If somebody had asked you, when did you fall for Satoru, you didn’t have the answer, it had just been building up over the years - heck maybe you always had cared for him you just didn’t notice? Maybe it was hidden behind the teasing you had grown to adore him. But even that seemed unimportant in the face of the warm spring breeze, it made you think, no matter what, the flowers would always end up blooming, despite whatever they are going to face.

When the classes are over Satoru drops you off at your dorm and you immediately go take a shower and call Haname over.

“This dress?”, you show her a black shoulder free dress that went up to your knees with a small slit reaching the mid of your thighs, “or this dress”, now you held up a baby blue colored dress with slightly loose sleeves at your hands with a heart shaped neckline that reached mid thighs - the black one is elegant, the blue one more cute.

She contemplates both options: “You’re also going around the mall, right?”

You nod.

“Baby blue.”

The anxiety in your chest gnaws at you: “What if it’s really fancy and I end up being underdressed?”

She gives you a quick glance - probably questioning where you left your head - before shaking her head: “You can still style it with your jewelry because if you guys are gonna walk around first the baby blue one is the better fit. I can imagine it gets very uncomfortable in the black one really fast.”

You sigh in frustration and bite your lip: “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”, you sat down next to her, you were being completely irrational but you just wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

She gives you a small sheepish smile: “Just a teensy tiny bit.”, she gestures with her hand to show you exactly how tiny and you chuckle with a slightly nervous undertone.

“I just- I don’t want to make a mistake, make it go back to the point we didn’t talk for months.”, you look down playing with your fingers, you felt like you had just cracked open the window in the cold winter night; exposing your ugliest and deepest thoughts you had so desperately tried to ignore.

She quickly wraps her arms around you in comfort: “Do you really think Satoru is so shallow to break up with you over a dress?”, she holds you at arms length now and stares at you, analyzing you, “there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

You nod slightly - god voicing it out loud makes you realize just how ridiculous you probably sound right now - you let out a shaky breath: “What if I’m not good enough? I’m not her and no matter how hard I’ll try, I will never be her.”

“Did he tell you that? Because I swear to-“, she immediately gets up, preparing herself to beat up Satoru but you quickly grasp her hand and stop her from doing anything reckless.

“No, he didn’t, he never would.”, you shake your head violently, “I just feel like I have to compensate because he gave her up for me.”

She scoffs: “Dear, I love you, but you are being very dumb right now.”, her hand runs through her hair in frustration, “he didn’t give her up for you, he chose you. There is a difference.”

“I know, I’m being ridiculous but I can’t help but feel that way.”, the stone in your chest keeps getting bigger and you start to wonder when you’ll finally burst.

“Did you talk to him, tell him about this insecurity?”

You shake your head and you swear she’s about to hit you for your idiocy but decides against it, instead she firmly grabs your arms and shakes you.

“Talk. To. Him.”

“Gods, no.”, your eyes widened as if she was the one being ridiculous now.

She deadpans: “You’re hopeless.”

“Thanks.”, you reply sarcastically.

“Why won’t you tell him?”, she asks in such confusion - he’s your boyfriend, you should be able to tell him how you feel.

“It’ll pass, he doesn’t need a confirmation seeking, untrusting girlfriend.”

She sighs, like she gave up: “You should really work on your self-esteem.”

“Can we drop it now? It’s just passing thoughts, by tomorrow they are gone.”, you clear your throat unsure if you could even believe yourself right now.

“Are they really gonna pass or will they be buried so deep, you won’t ever acknowledge them again.”

You wink at her and then stand up to grab your curling iron. Your hair doesn’t get done by itself.

She gives you a look of disapproval but takes the curling iron out of your hand.

“I’ll do your hair, you can focus on your makeup.”

You smile at her and get yourself ready.

Once you’re finished you give yourself a nod of approval.

“You look hot and cute- if he doesn’t eat you out today i don’t know.”, she grins.

You bite the inside of your cheeks - will he? Or will he stop like all the other times you initiated something?

You shake your head in a weak attempt to get rid of your intrusive thoughts, he isn’t ready to go all the way with you, you shouldn’t push him.

“You’re right.”, you grin, maybe if you pretend to be fine, you’ll actually be fine in the end.

When you’re done you message Satoru, that you’re ready to go out and a few minutes later he’s already knocking at your door.

You glance at Haname, she gives you a thumbs up and you finally manage to open the door, your heart thumping so loudly, you can barely hear your own breath.

Upon the sight of you Satoru halts mid-greeting: “You look absolutely stunning.”, he kisses your cheek and hands you a bouquet of black dahlias.

“Thanks”, the tension in your shoulders slowly dissipates, “you look very handsome yourself.”, you grin at him and smell the flowers: “They look so pretty and smell so nice.”

“Just thought they looked pretty, like you.”, he grins smugly.

Your face flushes and you cough a little out of embarassment; you gesture for him to enter while you quickly put them in a vase.

He smiles at you and waves at Haname upon seeing her before he grasps your hand and drags you out of the door and yells: “I’m kidnapping this one.”

You shake your head at his antics and laugh: “You never change, do you?”

“Never.”, he smiles but the cold glint in his eyes betrays him.

You felt like an idiot - of course you just had to say the wrong thing - you knew what he went through when Geto decided to walk away.

“I’m sorry if I hit the wrong button.”, you squeeze his hand as a form of apology.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”, he smiles and squeezes your hand back in return.

When you both reach the car, he opens the door for you and walks to the other side and sits down beside you in the backrow. He tells the driver to drive to the mall and pick you guys up at 6.

The drive takes longer than you had initially expected, the city bustling with people and cars due to the weather getting warmer, you don’t necessarily mind, still fascinated by the little things in life.

Your gaze follows the children playing around with each other, friends talking together - having fun; sometimes it just shakes you up that each one of these people had their own life, their own stories and you wish you could hear them all.

“What’s got the cogs in your head all running?”, Satoru shakes you out of your thoughts.

“All of them, out there”, you nod towards the crowd, “they’re all living their lives, have their own perspectives, they’re their own main characters. It’s nothing new but the realization is so odd sometimes.”, you shrug at him, secretly you hoped he’d understand, even join you in such a philosophical topic - get a glimpse inside what’s going on in his head.

He smiles at you and leans his head towards you, one of his eyebrows raised: “You mean, like realizing not everything revolves around you?”, you inhale a sharp breath, he said it with such a sweet tone and yet it felt like such a passive aggressive dab at you.

You stay silent for a few seconds, considering your next words carefully, it seemed like that’s all you do around him recently - walk on eggshells - your inner self laughs at you demeaningly - is this how you’re supposed to feel like in a relationship? You interrupt yourself before it gets worse - no bad thoughts tonight.

“I didn’t mean that.”, you almost scoff, slightly offended, but you hold it in, maybe he didn’t notice how provocative he sounds.

He raises an eyebrow: “maybe you didn’t say it outright, but you clearly meant it.”

You sigh: “Let’s not start fighting about a mere observation.”, you tense up slightly.

He chuckles: “Your wish is my command.”

Finally the driver pulls into the parking lot and you’re more than happy to get out of the car and get a fresh breath of air. Distraction is what you both probably need right now.

Satoru waves goodbye to the driver and you quickly fix your dress before you step in, Satoru close behind you.

“Anything specific you want to check out?”, he grabs your hand and gives it a small kiss.

“I was thinking about new dresses. We have to attend many family gatherings this month and then there's our annual big sponsor announcement - we need to get you a suit.”, you contemplate if there’s anything else you need but decide that’s it for today.

He groans: “Can’t we just stay at home and cuddle instead?”

You chuckle at him and squish his face: “No. If it’s any consolation, though, we can cuddle afterwards.”, you grin.

He sighs playfully: “At least something good is coming out of these family events.”

“Y’know we don’t need family gatherings to cuddle? You can just come over.”, you suggest, maybe he would finally be the one to initiate some romantic action.

“I’ll think about it.”, he hums playfully; leaving you incredibly frustrated again - the nagging sensation that had been nestling in the back of your head had reappeared - why did he always almost entirely refuse any type of intimacy between you?

You nudge him while you roll your eyes - don’t show him your worries - you repeat almost like a mantra in your head.

“Is there anything you want to check out?”, you ask him, completely open to anything he wants to do, really, you just wanted to finally cross the bridge that’s almost always holding you at arm’s length away from each other.

“Not really, just want to spend the day with you.”, he smiles, “Now let’s go get you some pretty dresses.”

You smile, albeit, a little more coldly than you’d like to admit and you both look around the different shops.

Several shops and try-ons later you had a few dresses, Satoru’s suit in several different bags, all held by Satoru. You still were in the cabin trying on your last dress - a long red backless V-cut dress - you’d probably wear this to the sponsor event, it’s a little eye-catching but that’s how it’s supposed to be and it looked good.

Leaving the cabin you were about to turn when you see Satoru on his phone; you call out his name and he slightly tenses up and quickly puts his phone away.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but decide to ignore it and do a little twirl: “What do you say?”

He gets up from his seat and walks around you, blowing a whistle: “You look breathtaking, absolutely stunning.”, he grins, “no man would be able to keep your eyes off you and then in despair, they’d have to realize that she’s taken to this dashing young man.”, he gestures at himself and you let out an amused chuckle.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”, he winks.

“Unfortunately.”, you sigh playfully.

“Now, hush.”, he rushes you back into the cabin, “we have a reservation at 6:30.”

You laugh: “Since when do you care about punctuality?”

He gasps in mock-offense: “Since always!”

“Sure.”, you hum in complete disbelief and quickly take off the dress and give it to Satoru to pay for it.

While he pays for it you change into your normal dress and get out, waiting for him outside. Soon he steps outside and you guys walk to the parking lot where your driver should be.

He whines as soon as he steps into the car: “I forgot how exhausting shopping is.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, you suggested it!”, you nag him.

“Yes, I did, that doesn’t make it any less exhausting.” , he pouts in all his 6 foot 3 glory and you chuckle.

“You’re such a child.”, you grin.

He scoffs: “I’m not!”

“Of course you aren’t, my big baby.”, you coo mockingly and pinch his cheek like a grandma.

He lightly slaps your hand away and grins: “Don’t hurt the masterpiece.”

“The masterpiece should get a hold of his ego.”, you roll your eyes, a comfortable feeling engulfs you - when had you been this comfortable the last time?

He winks: “You can get a hold on this ego.”, you almost scoff - is this the same man that cockblocks you and himself all the time?

You decide to be bold, test the waters: “What if I do?”, your shoulders tense up slightly, the fear of another rejection never disappearing.

His eyes widen slightly and he starts to chuckle nervously: “Now, love, behave, our driver can hear us.” and your face flushes in embarrassment but it doesn’t stop you from not understanding the underlying subtone - another rejection.

You start to wonder just how long you’ll be able to hold in your feelings; it wasn’t getting any easier, not when any attempt to take a step he takes two steps back, it was frustrating to say the least, made you feel like he didn’t actually want you and it was slowly but surely suffocating you.

“When will you let me in?”, you mumble, tired of this back and forth you lean your head against the window and decide to close your eyes for a bit; maybe he had heard you, maybe he hadn’t, you don’t know - the rest of the drive is silent.

It seems like you dozed off during the latter half of your drive because you wake up to Satoru gently shaking your shoulder and telling you, you had arrived.

You nod and get up still slightly out of it so when you get out of the car, you’re a little dizzy and lean on Satoru’s chest, you can hear his breath hitch a little.

“You okay, sleepyhead?”, he chuckles and you nod.

“Just a second.”

“Take all the time you need, love.” , he smiles and wraps his arms around your waist to secure you.

After a few more seconds in the fresh air your sleepiness finally disappears and you’re ready to go in.

“Alright, I’m ready.”, he gives you a quick glance, probably confirming for himself, if you are actually ready and then guides you inside, his one hand not leaving your waist.

The both of you step inside and you’re fascinated by its glimmering aesthetic of black and gold, it was elegant and prestigious, absolutely beautiful, the tables each decorated with wonderful ornaments that suited the restaurant's interior design - just how did you never hear of this place?

A waiter welcomes you and asks for your name, then guides you to a table with Gojo’s name on it and leaves you to settle in and check out the menu.

You gush at Satoru: “Just how did you know about this place?”

He smiles, yet it was more of a painful smile: “I came here with someone once.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion: “Who?”, and then it hit you; her, it had to be Hiyori, he’d never take anyone else to this type of restaurant, your teeth clench together and you grip the edge of your seat tightly, you were absolutely furious - did he have to take you to a restaurant where he previously went with his ex? “You have to be kidding me.”, you deadpan, you didn’t want to fight, not today, never actually, but how much longer are you supposed to feel like the second option, the one that will always remind him of what he could have had, the one that will never be enough for him.

There’s only so much you can tolerate.

“It’s not how you think it is.”, he attempts to grasp your hand but you immediately slap it off.

“You were here with her.”, you raise an eyebrow, you were stating the obvious, hell anyone that knew him would figure it out.

“I- yes, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s a nice restaurant that I wanted to show you. Nothing else.”, he justifies himself and you almost can’t believe him - he doesn’t even realize just what this implies.

“Satoru, the only thing, stopping me from immediately getting out of here, is that I don’t want to draw attention to us.”, you click your tongue, you knew this rage would turn into pain sooner or later but right now you’d rather feel angry than drown in self-pity and misery.

“Just-“

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?”, the waiter from earlier shows up and stares at Satoru with his notepad in his hand.

He starts to speak up: “No-“

“Yes, I’d like a glass of sparkling water and your Wagyu Steak, can you also add a Caesar Salad for the both of us?”, you smile at the waiter and for the first time this evening he looks at you instead of Satoru and you swear you can see him falling right here and now for you, as if his slowly reddening cheeks didn’t give him away.

“Yes, of course, anything for you.”, he smiles, from the corner of your eyes you can see Satoru clench his jaw and angrily tap his fingers on the table; you almost laugh out loud - he had the audacity to be jealous, now? The waiter's gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on you and you just keep looking back, normally you wouldn’t act like this - so immature but the bitter aftertaste his ex left on your relationship just made you act in ways you’d never had before. The waiter seems to finally snap out of it when Satoru clears his throat, absolutely furious at him or you - you didn’t care; let him. He smiles nervously: “And what can I get for you, sir?”

“Same as hers.”, he replies curtly, looks like he wants to get him away from the table as fast as possible.

The waiter nods and steps back but not without catching another glance at you.

“Could you stop playing into his desire for you?”, he scowls and you scowl right back.

You were about to play a dangerous game but god you wanted him to feel the same way you did, make him suffer just as much and the opportunity was handed to you on a silver platter.

“He was merely taking my order.”, you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sure, he was.”, he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm and he leans forward, “You’re mine, don’t think some small waiter has a chance.”

You gulp, fuck that was hot, you’d even tease him back if you hadn’t been so mad, so hurt.

“I’m not your property.”

“No, but you’re wearing my ring.”, his darkened eyes brimming with anger, jealousy, it might sound pathetic but seeing him like this, finally made you feel wanted, the feeling you had craved for so long, feeding the insecure monster inside of you - the amount of power you let him have over you was absolutely dangerous.

Soon the waiter comes back with your drinks, Satoru’s scowl only deepens upon his sight and either the waiter didn’t notice or simply didn’t care because he still gives you a friendly smile and you give him a simple ‘thanks’.

“Anything else I can do for you whilst the food is being prepared?”, he mostly looks at you, letting the ‘angry Gojo pot’ almost overflow.

You smile back and order two glasses of their finest champagne.

“Yes”, he clicks his tongue in absolute anger, and demands, “give me a waiter that doesn’t wonder what’s under my fiancée’s pants.”

“Satoru!”, and he looks at you with such intensity, almost daring you to speak up against him and for a second you wonder who the man in front of you is.

The waiter chuckles nervously, trying to calm down the situation but Satoru wouldn’t have any of it: “Unless you want to lose your job, do as I say.”, he was challenging him, Satoru was beyond pissed and some twisted side of you couldn’t get enough of it.

The waiter quickly leaves and you give him an apologetic glance, earning another angry glare from Satoru.

“You’re overreacting.”, you deadpan.

“I’m not.”, how his teeth haven’t shattered by how hard he’s clenching his jaw, remains a mystery.

“Are we ever gonna come here again?”, you cautiously ask.

“Fuck no.”, he shakes his head almost immediately, “never again.”

“Do you finally understand why I’m angry that you’re taking me to the same place you took your ex to?”

His eyes widened just slightly, almost unnoticeable, but you noticed and he nods.

You smile at him awkwardly: “feels shitty, doesn’t it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”, he bites his lips, finally some sort of rationality is getting to him.

“Just don’t do it again.”, you sigh, wanting to get rid of the sour mood on the table, “you look incredibly hot when you’re jealous.”, you glance at him innocently.

“Don’t do it again, or I might end up killing someone.”, he groans.

You chuckle: “toughen up, loser.”

He rolls his eyes playfully: “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”, you grin back.

He grins back, his eyes sparkling in the light of the restaurant and for a few minutes you forget the underlying issues, hiding like mines in the field, waiting for anyone to step on them and get them to explode, leaving only destruction behind.

You take a sip from your champagne and enjoy the bubbling taste swirling on your tongue.

„Any plans for tonight?“, the curiosity gnaws at your throat and you stare at him, slightly tensed; were you being greedy? Maybe, nonetheless it doesn‘t stop you from asking questions you‘ll most likely end up regretting upon hearing their answer.

„No“, he smiles gently, „only plans with you.“, you ease up, except the piling mass of frustration that chained you down like a madman, didn‘t really let you.

Even if the universe wanted you to be at peace, you‘d be its biggest enemy. Just why can‘t you have faith in his feelings for you; why did it always end up with you second-guessing him or yourself.

„Good“, you chug down the glass of champagne, letting the fizziness drown out your inner distraught.

He chuckles, oblivious to what is going on inside your head, „eager much?“

„It‘s just-„, you lick of the remains of it from your lips, „really good“.

He simply lifts up his hand and orders another one for you.

Your dinner is served very quickly and you enjoy the rest of the evening in the restaurant.

Time passes quickly and you‘re already about to step into your dorm, the question falls off your lips before you can even think about it: „Do you want to come in?“

He‘s hesitating, you see it in the way he glances outside and the way he is biting the inside of his cheek.

„You don‘t have to- mere courtesy, really.“, you spit out nervously, the feeling of walking on eggshells is washing over you again.

„No, I want to.“, there‘s pity in his eyes, you know he‘s lying, god you almost want to take back your question, you hated it when he looked at you like this, if you weren‘t so desperate for any type of attention from him, you‘d maybe actually respect yourself and stop begging for his attention, but you don‘t, you push it down for your next cycle of self-hatred.

You grab a pair of joggers and a shirt that are way too large for you and hand it to him, „in case you want to get into something more comfortable“, you mumble, not really looking at him.

He sighs and disregards the clothes in your hand, this time almost immediately noticing something is wrong with you, he grabs your face and gently strokes your cheek: „What‘s wrong, doll?“, concern fills up his eyes.

„It‘s nothing, really.“, you wrap your hand around the hand that is caressing your cheek and gently squeeze it, you don‘t want him to know about your ugly thoughts.

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not believing you, „I can‘t fix what I don‘t know about.“, there‘s still that concerned tone in his voice but you can‘t deny the underlying annoyance hidden in between.

You bite your lip, an internal battle unfolds, you don‘t want him to be annoyed with you but your carefully manufactured armor of false self confidence was crumbling and any hit would be fatal to your general well-being.

After a few seconds, he seemed to grow impatient, with a deep sigh he finally slips out of the embrace.

No- in the spur of the moment you grab his arm, stop him from leaving you, the final hit shatters your armor and you take a deep breath.

„Sometimes I feel like this relationship is so one-sided.“, you gulp, you don‘t want to look him in the eyes.

„What the fuck do you mean, y/n?“, he asks softly, his voice laced with confusion.

„It feels like I have to beg for your affections, Satoru“, you finally muster up the courage to look him in the eyes but the intensity in them made you look down again, you‘re feeling way too vulnerable for your own comfort.

He grabs your chin, his breath heavy, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He analyzes every single aspect of your face: „For how long have you been feeling that way?“, he croaks.

„I don‘t know.“, you shrug.

„Why have you never told me? Have you ever even considered telling me? Or did you just plan to bury it down until you‘d be tired of it and simply break up with me?“, he didn‘t raise his voice but it sure as hell made you feel like he was yelling at you, scolding you like a child.

„I don‘t want to have to speak about this. Just what is so hard about showing me you actually care about me?“, you bite your lips, you didn‘t want your date night to end up in an argument, but you‘d be lying to yourself if you didn‘t feel good about finally spilling what haunts you in the late hours of the night.

He seems to contemplate his next action and you keep staring at him, waiting for him to decide, keep arguing or acknowledge what you‘ve been feeling and trying to suppress for so long.

You anxiously stare at him, the clock was ticking, the room so silent it equaled a firework, add in the light tapping of your foot on the floor, you sensed a headache incoming, especially if this doesn‘t get resolved fast now that it‘s in the open.

Another sigh, a step closer to you, you wanted to step back, but your body was not your own anymore, not really, you had just been a doll, in the hands of the doll maker, rarely acting on your own, always listening to his demands, boundaries and needs - putting him first because he mattered more to you than you mattered to yourself, a fool, really - discarding yourself in the pretense of love.

„I‘m sorry, doll, I‘m so sorry.“, he grasps your cheeks, the tenderness with which he embraces you, the soft look in his eyes, for a second you wonder how you could‘ve ever doubted him.

„It‘s okay“, you lean into his touch, why do you always crave him so much?

He gently kisses your forehead: „I promise, I‘ll do better, yes?“, you close your eyes and nod - a silent agreement, his cologne consumes you and you‘re ever so soft for him, your problems seeming almost irrelevant, overdramatic even.

Satoru grabs your face and leans down to kiss you, a smile on his face. You smile back and sigh in content, his breath lightly tickling your nose. The kiss deepens as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly and you reach up to wrap yours around his neck, the need to be as close to him as possible growing with each kiss shared between you. His hand starts to roam around your body, when it reaches the curve of your ass, he smirks lightly and squeezes it. A gasp leaves your mouth and you have to break the kiss, questioning his intentions but too light-headed and caught in the taste of him to actually judge him properly.

„What?“, he smiles at you and leans down to whisper in your ear, „Didn‘t you want this?“, he continues as he bites your ear lightly.

Your face flushes and your brain short-circuits at the possibility of what‘s next.

Satisfied with your bright red face, he continues, „Already blushing for me? Could you even handle what I want to do to you?“

„I‘m sure I can hold myself against you, get off your high horse.“, you scoff at him - you weren‘t sure, at all, your brain after all stops working whenever he‘s in arm‘s reach but he didn‘t need to know that, you had at least a little bit of pride left.

He hums knowingly: „Prove it.“

„Oh, I will.“, you scoff and before you can say anything else he grabs you a little roughly by your throat and kisses you, sending butterflies right down to your lower stomach.

Your fingertips trace around his chest slowly going lower and lower as you continue to make out, you felt like you were on cloud nine, Gojo Satoru is overwhelming you. The kisses turn sloppier, heavier, his hand squeezed your throat lightly and you gasp, drunk on him, feeling the wet spot in your panties you pull him closer by his belt, unable to control yourself any longer.

Satoru steps forward, not letting go of your throat and your lips and you stumble backwards, not expecting the sudden movement, until you reach the edge of your bed and he lets go of you and stares down at your flushed face and despite being fully clothed you felt very naked under his almost primal gaze.

„Sit down.“ he commanded, and you sat down, how could you not when he looked at you like he was about to eat the best meal of his life and it made you giddy, sending shivers right down your spine - you’d willingly let him do anything he wants to you.

He took off his shirt and your eyes widened, you had forgotten despite his seemingly lanky appearance he had muscles underneath. Hungrily you lean forward and your fingers reach for his belt, the need to touch him growing rapidly, he leans forward as your fingers start to undo his belt and he kisses you pushing you down further into the mattress, his arms caging you in, the size difference between you guys making you feel like a small rabbit in a lion’s den.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, he whispers into your lips.

You reach forward to kiss him but he draws back a little and you almost whine at him in frustration like a little girl.

“Desperate, aren’t we?”, he tsk’ed and smiled, his lips trailing down the corner of your lips, to your jaw and finally landing on your neck.

He continues to leave kisses all around your neck while his hands trace all over your body until they finally land on the back of your thighs and spread them so he could place himself between them. His crotch met yours and you hissed at the sensation, your insides turning to jelly, too flustered to say anything else you grab his hair and tug at it lightly, especially when his lips reached a soft spot on your neck you couldn’t help the moan escaping your lips and dug your fingers even further into his hair, he was igniting a fire inside of you and you weren’t sure if you could stop this time. Satoru smirked at your soft spot and started to lick at your soft spot then continued to suck and bite at it, your eyes widened like a deer in headlights and you bit your lips, preventing yourself from moaning again.

When he was finally satisfied with what he had done, he reached for the hem of your dress, his cold fingers grazed your skin and he took it off and took in the sight of you.

“My pretty baby.”, he smiled at you, you looked away in embarrassment, “Aww, don’t be like this, look at me, sugar.”, he reached for your face and forced you to look at him, “This is only the beginning after all.”

It didn’t seem like he was actually waiting for a response from you because before you knew it, he was back down at your collarbone, his teeth slightly grazing against your skin, sending another shot right down to your core and your eyes closed in ecstasy, you felt so good right now. The only thing in your mind were his lips and wherever they could land next. His sloppy kisses start to trail down to your chest, his large hands following in and cupping them around the bra, before he continues he gestured for you to take it off, you immediately listened and threw it across the room, not caring where it would land.

He gently grabbed your left breast with his left hand, his right hand meeting the curve of your ass and giving it a light squeeze as well as he leaned forward to kiss you, you moan into his lips, your mind only screaming at him to touch you, a chant that has grown and grown, you don’t think you could ever have enough of this, of him.

His hand roamed around from your ass to your thighs until it reached the hem of your panties, he stopped kissing you and looked down at you.

“You okay with this, love?”

You nodded eagerly in response, not trusting your voice to speak normally.

“Words, love.”, he smiled at you and your neediness, he knew you were almost begging for him to touch you but he wanted to hear it from your pretty little lips.

“Yes.”, you huff, impatiently waiting for his fingers to meet your most sensitive area.

He hums: “Yes, what?”

You were going to bite his head off: “Please.. touch me, ‘Toru.”, you mumble, suddenly embarrassed at just how needy you were right now.

A small chuckle leaves him: “Good girl.”, and doesn't wait any further, finally giving you what you need, he touches you between your legs, your wetness already having soaked your panties and he hums in approval. “All for me, huh.”, he grinned while you gasped at his touch, your pussy pushed against him in response, craving the friction, the release, anything really.

He lightly rubbed your clit, watching for your reaction, those doe eyes of yours looking at him covered in pure lust, he didn’t wait any longer and took off your panties, taking in the sight of your wetness.

The cold breeze hit you and you instinctively tried to close your legs.

“Nuh-uh, don’t even think about it.”, he growled and his hands wrapped tightly around your thighs preventing them from closing them, not waiting any longer he dove in and started to eat you out.

At the first touch of his wet tongue against your clit you let out a big a gasp, your head fell back and chest rose in surprise, your senses were on the edge, so consumed by him and you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fingers clenched into the sheets and you wrapped your legs around his head, not caring anymore about any shame whatsoever only seeking the pleasure he gave you right now.

His tongue sloppily devoured you, his left arm pressed down on your lower stomach preventing you from moving and you’re left at his mercy when he inserted a finger inside of you, you groaned at the foreign but pleasing feeling.

When he started to move his long finger curled up lightly inside of you and your eyes rolled back almost immediately, feeling so full with just one finger, you had to wonder, just how would you be able to take his dick.

“More. Toru, please.”, you mustered up to say in your drunken haze, “I’m so close.”, you moaned at the tension building up in your core, ready to explode and he chuckled against your clit, making you almost cum undone.

He lifted his head up lightly, you could see his lips glistening from the wetness in your folds and you almost groaned at the sight, turning you on even more.

“Don’t cum, until I say so.”, he looked at you sternly, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

You rolled your eyes at his controlling behavior, not being able to handle not cuming and groaned, “I can’t control it.”

He flicked your clit lightly and you gasp, flinching back a little at the slight cinch of pain, “Cum, if you can handle the consequences.”

You groaned, wondering what you got yourself into, you bit your lips and prayed for mercy, he’d wreck you and you can’t say you’d be completely against it, the idea of punishment exciting you even more.

“Are we clear?”, he asked, checking if you’d actually be okay with that.

You nod in response: “Now touch me.”, you whined, your pussy felt too empty right now.

He nodded, “good.”, and dove right back in, this time adding a second finger, curling them up while simultaneously sucking at your clit like a starved man, you were a moaning mess at the sensations, his long fingers filling you up so much in a way your fingers could never.

You were close to cumming, not caring about his earlier warning you didn’t even try to hold back but Satoru sensed it and took out his fingers before you could actually cum, you whine at him, feeling deprived and considered hitting him in annoyance, especially when you saw the glimpse of amusement in his eyes, he treated you like a cat playing with a mouse, nothing but a mere toy.

“Satoru.”, you moan, “please, I wanna cum.”

“You can do it, darling.”, he smiled at you and kissed you, his lips covered in your fluids they tasted slightly salty but not unpleasant, his hard and clothed dick rubbed against your vagina, “see how hard you made me? Now be a darling and don’t disappoint me, hmm.”, he hums.

You groaned into his lips, the sight of his hard dick made you feel so good, you felt like you’d be able to do anything for him.

“Mhm.”, you hum, so drunk on pleasure you didn’t want to speak proper sentences.

“Good.”, he smiled proudly, his hand went back down and he started to finger you again while he kept kissing you, his pace started to fasten with each second passing and unable to handle it you grip his back, your nails clawing into him the fast pace almost making you see stars.

He started to nibble around your neck, leaving bute marks and hickeys everywhere and when he finally reached another sensitive spot on your collarbone biting down on it, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, your eyes rolled back, you felt dizzy and light headed, “I’m cumming.”, you manage to gasp out, your toes curled and your breath grew heavy forgetting everything around you, Satoru kept fingering you during your high taking in the sight of the mess you had become.

When you finally rode off your high, at least an ounce of sense coming back to you, Satoru groaned at you: “You’re so hot, when you cum, baby, you did so good.”, he praised you and took his fingers out of your pussy and licked his index finger, you flushed at the sight, “you taste even better.”, he hummed and pulled his middle finger in front your mouth, “Open up, baby.”, he demanded, you flushed even more in embarrassment but were still too light headed to protest so you obey him and open your mouth. “Now suck, love.”, and you wrapped your mouth around his finger, tasting yourself on it, sucking on it, while looking up at him, as if it were his dick you were sucking off right now you licked it all clean off your cum.

When it was all clean you let go of his finger, sat up and looked at him, “I also want to make you feel good.”, you reached for the hook of his pants.

“Are you sure, love?”, he asks.

You nod, “Mhm, wanna suck you off.”, you smile and look at him innocently.

His eyes darkened and he smirked: “Well I won’t stop you in that case.”, he stood up and you crawled towards the edge of the bed, feeling excited again, at the idea of sucking him off, you unzip his pants and help him take them off, the sheer size of his dick peeping through his boxer and you could see a drip of precum, you gulped - how would you be able to take him fully?

“Nervous?”, he chuckled at you in amusement.

“No.”, you huffed, “I was just surprised.”, you hide away your inner doubt, you’d do what you can to please him.

“Mhm.”, he hummed and you got off the bed and kneel down in front of him.

You hands reached for his dick inside of his boxers your fingers traced down his length and you heard him suck in a deep breath, your hands stroke up to his tip, teasing him and you could feel, that it took every ounce of self-restraint inside Satoru not to just jump you and take you - this made you feel powerful, confident.

With the new surge of confidence you massaged his dick lightly through his boxers and you looked up at Satoru, teasing him, your tongue glided up his dick through the boxers leaving a big wet trail on them and Satoru hissed and grabbed you by your hair, “Come on, love, take them off.”

In obeyance you nodded and took them off his length slapping into your face and you gulp - he really was big, you wouldn’t be able to fit in his entire length.

Hesitating was pointless really, so you convince yourself to be a big girl and return the pleasure he had given you, taking his cock you wrap your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue around it, sucking it lightly like a lollipop, due to his precum he tasted a little salty and you didn’t want to let him go without letting him cum inside your mouth tonight.

“Fuck, y/n.”, Satoru grunted, holding back from pushing his length immediately right down your throat and fucking the daylights out of your mouth, he grabbed your hair tighter in a weak attempt to hold onto his sanity.

“Hmm.”, you hummed against his tip, you could see the goosebumps appear on his skin at the sensation.

“You’re driving me crazy.”, he hissed as you finally went in deeper now sucking him off even more, you barely had a third of him in your mouth and you already were full.

Bopping your head on his dick you slowly take more and more of him, enjoying that Satoru is letting you be in control for now and you planned to tease him just as much as he teased you.

“Sucking me off so well, you’re such a good girl, darling.”, Satoru praised you, going straight into your core and you let go off his dick.

A little breathless you said: “Just for you.”, and looked up at him innocently, this would definitely get him going even more.

He smiled in approval: “Such a darling.”, the grasp on your hair tightened while he forced you to keep looking at him, he pressed his cock against your lips again and you opened up like a good little slut.

Now he was in control again, starting out slowly he forced his dick deeper and deeper down your throat until your gag reflex kicked in and he pulled out, fastening the pace, you let him fuck your mouth, grabbing his thighs for some steadiness.

You felt so used but it felt so right at the same time, right now you weren’t more than just a hole to him but the grunts and moans leaving his mouth felt like little praises towards you.

Saliva was starting to run down your mouth and he kept hitting your gag reflex so much tears started to come out.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby.”, the sight of you on your knees, crying while taking him without a single complaint was enough to edge him on, he was reaching his high point, making him fuck your mouth even rougher and faster.

You kept gagging on his length, the sheer speed of him not letting you form any coherent thoughts, the only thing your mind could focus on was the way his balls slapped against your face and the iron grip he had on you.

“Fuck, baby.”, he groans thrusting and thrusting inside of you, his eyes closed he threw back his head, “Hiyori, I’m gonna cum.”

It’s as if cold water was thrown against your entire body and you just woke up from a terrible nightmare, the realization of what was going on through his head hitting you hard, like a wrecking ball - destroying any resemblance of happiness, only leaving behind the debris of bitterness, sadness and anger. Anger at him, at yourself, for being so stupid and letting yourself be used as a mere rebound you tried to push him off - to no avail - he was in too much of a bliss hidden behind a fantasy you weren’t a part of to pay attention to you.

He finally came.

And you shattered, the salty taste of his cum down your throat scarring you deeper than any blade, any bomb could ever do

[verdemint]

So this video is my beznaia thesis! You can really see their dynamic and how they work with each other. This is just after India last year, Bezz won the race (his third of the year) and Pecco crashed out of the race. You have Bezz "trashtalking" Pecco a little bit to cheer him up, but it's not mean, Pecco is clearly in on the joke. And then the interviewer is trying to get Pecco to talk about his fall and pecco is kinda uncomfortable/pissed off and Bezz tries to direct the attention of the interviewer back at him, letting Pecco go. And then we have Bezz talking about his friendship with Pecco and how much Pecco is a real friend to him.

They treat each other as equals, they love trash-talking and fighting a bit but it's clear how Pecco is much more comfortable in front of cameras whenever Bezz is also there. You can feel how they truly value each other presence and the comfort they find in each other, it's just super cute to witness lol. It's obvious how much Bezz cares and respects Pecco, Pecco is just "much more mature!" a true adult in a way, and it's true in all aspects of their life, but Bezz is also the only one able to bring Pecco down to earth in a way, he sees right through him. All the academy guys are very much a little pack, always protecting each other in interviews and stuff but these two are each other comfort zone in that insane sport. This is getting a bit RPF but idc, it's just such a cute friendship :)

Translation lol

*Pecco is doing a gesture, "ti faccio un culo così" meaning something like "next time when I get u! I'm gonna beat u!" OBV HES JOKING*

Bez: “Come here! ... Do I have to come to you?...He wants to let me have my moment! … Can I say something tho? Whenever I’m in front of him during the race he crashes out”

Pecco arrives there

Pecco: “I don't want to be like parsley (lol meaning someone who’s everywhere, all the time, intruding in Bezz’ moment)” I: “What did u say Bezz?” B: “Whenever I’m in front he crashes out!” P: “I feel the mental pressure” B: “He’s not used to it, usually he’s always the one in front of me, the few times I’m first he can't deal with that!” … the interviewer starts talking with Pecco saying that sometimes it's more difficult to lead a race and not make any mistakes than being second and trying to catch up, asking Pecco if that's maybe why he crashed out.  Pecco a bit annoyed :“I crashed out of the race coz I crashed out of the race … Bez to the interviewer: “Stop asking him stuff, he’s angry after the race, it’s normal!” Pecco: “Let's talk about Bez, he was the best today!” Pecco runs away lol I: “Anyway, the relationship you two have is beautiful.” Bezz: “Pecco and I are close friends, I’ve found a fantastic friend in Pecco. It’s difficult sometimes being rivals and friends, but we’re both adults and mature, Pecco a little bit more!” Pecco is looking and touching the bike, “fake-checking” the brakes Bez: “This time I was there! I was braking better eh” Back to some trash-talking

[thepenultimateword]

Hello everyone! As October approaches, I've been hearing a lot about the very popular Whumptober. However, since I'm not much of a whump writer, I decided to go ahead and make my own Flufftober challenge!

For those who don't already know, this challenge involves following a prompt for each day in October. I am writing blog, so I'll be writing, but feel free to follow these prompts in the medium of your choice! Also, you can participate as much or as little as you like. Technically, the challenge is for the entire month, but if there's a day you're not vibing with the prompt or you just don't have time, don't stress. This is purely for fun.

If you're not one for pure fluff, flangst (fluff/angst) is also perfectly acceptable.

Let me know if you have any questions! I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I'd love to see what you all come up with! So if you so choose to share, tag me in your posts or use the tag #flufftober2024 (however others creators have also made their own flufftobrs, so things will get mixed up a bit)

Flufftober 2024 Prompts

Day 1: Rainstorm

Day 2: Fireplace

Day 3: Sweater Day

4: Apple Cider

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Day 6: Cuddles

Day 7: Protective

Day 8: Secret Relationship

Day 9: Sickfic

Day 10: Pumpkin Patch

Day 11: Hugs and Kisses

Day 12: Blankets

Day 13: Harvest Festival

Day 14 Coffee Shop

Day 15: Ghost

Day 16: Sweet Treat

Day 17: Breakfast

Day 18: Nostalgia

Day 19: Scary Movie

Day 20: Reunion

Day 21: Sleepy

Day 22: Whisper

Day 23: Finally Safe

Day 24: Confession

Day 25: Holding Hands

Day 26: Monster

Day 27: Cleaning up

Day 28: Embarrassed

Day 29: Leaf Fight

Day 30: Roadtrip

Day 31: Found Family

[mamawasatesttube]

the other thing abt tim&tam that fascinates me is like... she met him when he was at rock fucking bottom and clawing his way back up. and it's partly by virtue of how comics often are written but their romance reads a little rushed to me - she kisses him for saving her life, and that's that. she's into him now. she sees him and she realizes he's sad, he's hurting, he's a little freak, but how well does she actually know him? she trusts him with her life because he's saved it before, but does she know that he used to go to baseball games with his dad, or that he goes to car shows for a good time, or that he's struggled with the vigilante-civilian stuff for years? what does he know about her? (hell, what do we the reader get to know about her that's not related to tim or her dad?? not even her college major???)

and i know it being a romance that just ... happens + tam getting kinda shafted as "The Girl™" is kind of part and parcel of the comic book medium, that the romances are often rushed bc the focus is on the action and plot, but. i think leaning into that in this case as an in-universe phenomenon is fun. because tam idealizes tim for being her hero when she was in mortal danger, and because tim's never had a civilian friend be in the know before, and he's reveling in that novelty, because he doesn't have to lie to her... until he does anyway, because old habits are hard to break, and he still has that same mental dichotomy of "person he can respect/trust enough to work with as equals, versus person he needs to protect and therefore keep out of the loop" (see also: how he and frankly all the bats treated steph in the past).

and i think that actually makes their breakup so compelling. she was willing to look past all his flaws or just see them as exciting because he's a hero and he saved her and she's his confidante. he is in the fucking pits mental health wise and he has Not worked on figuring out how to deal with his worst habits. he's entrenched in the vigilante business and he's jumping from pitfall to pitfall. tim doesn't even think he did something wrong - he thinks keeping that lucius was alive from her was necessary even if it cost him her friendship. like, it sucks and he wishes it didn't have to be that way, but he doesn't think it was a mistake or the wrong choice. of course they fall apart. it's inevitable. if it hadn't been over faking her dad's death and not telling her it was fake, it would've been something.

anyways i just think them both having a slow burn from awkward exes/ex-friends into real actual friendship for the first time would be so good. like both of them actually getting to know each other in ways they didn't before. like, tim has to do enough character growth to get out of his mental health pit and work enough on his identity issues etc. to understand that he didn't have to shut her out. that will take him a hot minute. and i think tam realizing how little she actually knew him outside of being a hero is also just sooo juicy.

so it should take time. but after they get to the point of being able to have actual conversations again, i wanna see tim talking to her about things other than business. and tam actually getting to tell him about her interests. gimme them growing to care about each other for who they both are as people, not just because circumstances brought them together and then kept them there because she knew too much for tim to walk away.

[peachesofteal]

This is in no way a judgement but I’m very curious to know ( if you choose to let me) what is so enjoyable about watching the man you love have sex with another woman?

I will never truly understand it and that’s how I know I’m 100% monograms. How can you stand him getting pleasure from someone that’s not you or how can you stand him using one of the most intimate parts of himself on someone else?

I apologise if my tone sounds judgmental and I promise it’s not but I don’t think I can word my sentences any other way.

Thank you for your time ♥️

First, slapping man/woman on this question is wild to me, but I’ll answer your question even though it’s rooted in purity culture.

Disclaimer: this is how I feel, it won’t be how everyone feels on this subject. The long and short of it is, sex is not that serious. Genitalia is not the most intimate parts of our bodies, it’s just parts of our bodies. Mr Peach and I love and trust each other v much and mutually enjoy the same things, and we don’t hold sex on this holy pedestal. What we do is fun (safe and consensual) for everyone involved, and it’s a team sport with multiple aspects of enjoyment (Kink, we’re talking about kink here). Jealously is a normal human emotion, but I’ve always peeled it away and look at the root cause. I always decide the root cause actually means nothing to me when I examine it, and Mr peach and I discuss these feelings, and any feelings, at length with each other and little treats to make fully informed decisions.

It’s very important to note (unicorn hunter anon I see your ask) that we do not supplement something lacking in our relationship by bringing home little treats. We do not date our little treats, we do not engage in a “us then you” dynamic.

[alshamswelnahr]

The sheer volume of responsibilities that Kanae took on herself, always filling every moment with something (taking care of others, training, running the hospital and Butterfly Estate, fighting demons) she never gave herself a moment to rest or reflect. She was always giving and always moving forward because she felt she had to. Being a hashira meant doing her best, and that meant keeping her days packed so she wouldn't have time to stop and think or fall apart.

She had to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied with everything, with her little girls, Shinobu, whose anger never seemed to fade, Kanao, who was always so silent, and Aoi, who was so hard on herself, and her other three little girls, whom life had treated so cruelly even though they were so young.

Kanae loves them dearly. So, she wakes up each day and throws herself into her work. And she doesn’t think back to that night. Everyone needed her, as long as she kept herself busy every moment of every day, it was okay. She believes she can save everyone, the humans, the demons, and her sisters (especially her sisters) she will treat, heal, and swing her sword a thousand times, living only in the present or dreaming of a future where everything will be okay but not looking back. Never looking back.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

*shaking cup* freebie? Freebie for the poor? (Your writing is great and I hope you're doing okay :))

"He saved my life" was the magic sentence. Ordinarily, Erik might have taken it personally having a human pull a shot gun on him but- context mattered.

Your elderly grandfather had no way of knowing WHY he was with you. Or how he knew you. Not until you explained what happened. Still. It took... restraint.

It was... curious though. Seeing this part of your life. The fear and the pride on their faces when they hugged you to them- relieved to see you alive still. "Come on son," your grandfather said. "We'll load the car. Let the girls get supper on the table." And he followed- not sure what else to do.

"Be nice," you call.

"I'm always nice," your Grandfather called back, "it's the General you gotta worry about."

Erik smiled just a little as the old man popped your trunk open and shook his head at the chaos, "You'd think she lives in here, good grief."

"She does, for the most part," Erik snorted, "long hours. And she never knows what she's going to need."

Paul shook his head and hefted a box into place, "You have questions, don't you, son?"

Erik regarded him for a moment. There was a tense moment in the beginning. But... after that, he'd been treated like a friend. Like you'd just dragged any other misfit home. "Why does she do this?" he asked.

The other man adjusted his glasses and glanced towards the door. Erik can see him weighing what to say. Not looking for a lie, but looking for a way to tell the truth that respects your dignity. He can feel an ugly story coming, the way he can feel violence. "Because," Paul said, shoulders sagging, "when she looks at those children, she sees a best friend she couldn't help. Because by the time she knew what happened it was too late." He pushed himself off the side of your car and went to his tool chest, pulling a drawer open and extracting a framed picture.

It's old. You're there with another little girl. He's know you anywhere- it's the eyes. And the smile. You have your arms around each other. Beaming on the beach. "Allie's parents just... disappeared her. She was scared. Afraid no one would help her. And by the time Y/N managed to track her down again- it- she was dead. Someone just beat her to death."

Erik looked at the man in front of him and tried to keep control of his temper. It's not his fault.

"Y/N was so angry," Paul said, shaking his head. "To this day, I don't think she believes in god... For years we thought she was going to kill herself trying just to numb the pain. Pills mostly. Parties. But... one day she just dropped out of sight. Just was gone. We got phone calls and emails sometimes. She sounded good. just busy. Distracted."

Paul smiled ruefully, "We figured she was on a bender and tracked her down. We were gonna haul her little ass to rehab so help us god- and we found her handing out blankets and food to homeless mutant kids, telling a bunch of bigots to- well. You've met her."

Erik chuckled, "Yes, I'm familiar with her vocabulary." He handed Paul the photo back and studied him, "They're still looking for her."

"I figured." He exhaled slowly. "I don't want to have to bury my granddaughter. But, we know- she may not believe in God but, he'll hold her in his hands anyway."

"Paul-"

"If anything happens," he said, putting the photo away, "we're going to lay her next to Allie. We learned a long time ago to hope for the best and plan for the worst. My girl can work miracles but she can't stop bullets."

[my-mt-heart]

Idk how to say this but I am not as bothered about whatever is going to transpire between Daryl and Isabelle (bcoz for one thing - we know what is going to happen in the end- and for another - I honestly believe that the male execs are not at all confident abt their vision for these two as they would like to be and the whole thing would prolly boil down to ambiguity and ultimately- it will fall upon the viewers to dissect how Daryl feels - the Caryl fandom especially is really adept at reading into storylines - even stupid ones) None of this is good by any means. It cheapens the integrity of all the characters involved. It blatantly insults and reduces female characters - I believe that Isabelle deserves better. That a story should hold space for multiple female characters. Also - I am worried about putting the fate and the story of one the best female characters on TV (Carol) in the hands of someone who has proven that he can't be trusted to handle them with care. Reading S2 reviews - I am sort of reassured that Carol is treated well enough in the story - which I believe - has a LOT to do with Melissa McBride's input. Going forward - it is going to be more difficult bcoz once we have dealt with old traumas - we do need to evolve these characters and make sure they don't stay stagnant. I don't believe Zabel has the chops to do that.

sorry for that rant. I am just really frustrated.

What I worry about is the way all of this bts stuff amongst the male execs is going to impact the Caryl dynamic. Whatever the antis may think - and while McReedus has insane chemistry - I do believe that the romantic energy is generated between them by a lot of their acting choices (bcoz the underlying story is teasing a romance). What happens to all that when a romance is completely off the table? When AMC has been pushing this friendship narrative down our throats in a very evident bid to do damage control - the insecure/defensive promo that we have been getting last few weeks is proof enough that Caryl was always more than friends?

The problems were already glaringly obvious from the very beginning. the fact that Melissa isn't billed equally for a season where she is proclaimed to be the major focus? It is not even about Caryl going canon for me anymore. I love Melissa and Carol way too much for me to give up yet but I treasure the Caryl bond primarily bcoz they have always been each other's everything. it is truly a bond that evades definition. Both Carol and Daryl doesn't have what they have with each other with anyone. THAT IS A CANON FACT. I don't think I can watch that dynamic that I treasure so much being butchered - s11 was painful enough - I can't go through all of that and more again.

Going to watch s2 and then my further commitment will depend entirely upon how the characters are treated and their dynamic is portrayed?

It sucks that I am dreading watching Carol and Daryl back together on screen.

been here just for a few months but the way AMC has been fumbling with this promo - have you guys always experienced this whiplash or is it a new thing?

I’m going to include big spoilers in my response, so proceed with caution ⚠️

I respect your opinion, but I disagree with you on the point about Daryl’s and Isabelle’s arc. It seems like the male EPs (Zabel, Nicotero, Gimple) are overly confident that an explicit romance between their male hero and a younger blonde nun who accused Daryl of being like his abusive father just for trying to go home to his family will attract a larger male audience and they aren’t sparing any feelings with it because we aren’t their ideal audience anyway. To them, we’re just a bunch of “hysterical” shippers whose POV’s don’t matter and we can just take their crumbs. AMC is a bit more complicated, but I’ll get to them later.

Daryl and the nun kiss in 202, so there’s little to no room for us to dissect how Daryl is feeling. Isabelle’s death is the furthest thing from a relief because 1) it reduces her character down to man pain like you said and 2) from what I’m gathering, it completely overshadows Caryl’s reunion and then their entire arc. We get another hug that does absolutely nothing to elevate their relationship and then Carol has to face that Daryl didn’t need her to rescue him because he found a new family and become his emotionally supportive friend to help him through his grief of a lost love interest he’s known for a few months. It almost feels like it’s going to be a retread of Beth’s death, only worse. We know how Greg Nicotero views both of those relationships and to be blunt, the man needs to stop projecting his creepy fetishes onto Daryl and making it our problem 🤢

The way the story is framed, it’s not even about Caryl at all. They’re the relationship we’re the most invested in and yet all the emotional weight is given to a highly problematic relationship that developed over a dozen ish short episodes (compared to Caryl’s decade+ of emotional depth) and it’s all for nothing too. Zabel just resets Daryl like the hokey network procedural writer he is. And Caryl fans are rewarded for their years-long loyalty by getting more ambiguous subtext to analyze? Really?

I think you’re spot on about Melissa though. The reason she’s the bright spot of the season, the reason Carol’s individual arc feels true, and her spiritual connection to Daryl stays alive is because Melissa influenced all of that. She’s shown us time and time again that she understands her character so deeply and respects her fans. It really breaks my heart because I think she had a beautiful story in mind for Carol and she deserves all the support in the world, but as I’ve said many times, if damage is done to the character who has been written as her soulmate for over a decade, damage is also done to her. And I can’t watch that. I can’t watch the destruction of my favorite characters and my favorite relationship and put money in AMC’s pockets for gaslighting me. Retconning Caryl’s relationship into a platonic friendship is their way of protecting themselves from backlash. “Daryl isn’t emotionally cheating because he and Carol have always been besties?” “We didn’t mislead you. We told you they were friends, so you dumb shippers are doing this to yourselves. Please watch our slop anyways ✌️” They’re even trying to shift responsibility to Melissa by making her answer the shipping questions despite the fact that it’s Daryl’s arc throwing a wrench in everything and I expect that to continue at NYCC/Palyfest. It’s completely unethical and it’s backfiring.

Zabel cannot write for Daryl and Carol. He keeps showing us that he doesn’t understand their bond nor does he value it. A couple of the reviews mentioned it felt like Carol was shoehorned into certain aspects of the story, which tracks with what I already knew—that he and the other EPs think she’s hindering the story they want to tell about men doing manly things. That’s why they try so hard to challenge her significance to Daryl’s story and that is not going to change just because they’re moving to another location. Somebody like that should not have power to decide her trajectory. Fuck whatever he has planned for S3. I don’t want it. I still want Caryl and I still want to see them get the stories they deserve, but that’s only going to happen if we get a new showrunner who respects them and respects their fans. In case it needs to be said, Gimple is not that guy either (he can fake his enthusiasm on SM all he wants 🖕🖕🖕). A complete rebranding of the show to something that honors the characters and gives Melissa her dues (equal billing, title, etc) is the only way I’m tuning in now🤷🏻‍♀️ I don’t have the emotional capacity to sit through S2, but I will be here, speaking up, to make sure Melissa gets all the necessary praise and those assholes can’t blame her if the show tanks.

I’ve only been here a few years and there’s been a lot of turn over at AMC even just in that time (I kid you not, all of our problems can be traced back to Josh Sapan leaving. He loved Caryl and Melissa). That being said, I cannot for the life of me understand why any of the guys over there (even the misogynistic ones) would approve of the Daryl/Isabelle arc after the PR disaster that Leah caused not even that long ago and at least for that, the arc tied back to romantic Caryl and we weren’t subjected to any uncomfortable physical intimacy. Why the fuck would they make the same mistake? Why the fuck do they have to spend more time cleaning up messes than avoiding the mess altogether at every fucking opportunity they had (and they had a lot). I just don’t get it. And I’m so tired of taking the abuse.

[ambiguouslady42]

Pairing: Hajime Umemiya x Fem! Reader

CW: Oral (f/m receiving), food play, vaginal sex, creampie, mention of a scar.

Summary: You go on a strawberry-picking date with Umemiya. Later, you decide to make chocolate strawberries and the rest is history.

WC: ~2K

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, @awkwardchick87, @jellyfishsart,

@missvulpix212, @hayatoseyepatch, @peachsukii

@entirelysein-e

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Strawberry season is coming to a close. You dislike the summer sun, but your Ume loves seeing plants be happy and blooming. He surprised you today by picking strawberries at a local farm. The batch he grew for you disappeared quickly into whatever sweet delights you created. He loves that you’re able to find every possible way to use what he grows. With the varieties of strawberries (about 9, to be exact), you knew this was the perfect date for today. He could help you choose the best ones to use for today or for tomorrow. As you’re picking your strawberries, your hands are slowly grazing his as you’re choosing which strawberries you’re going to take home tonight. 

Both of you are reaching for the same strawberry and your hands just bump into each other in this instance. There is no need for an apology because you’re both giggling because you think so alike. You take this opportunity to kiss his cheek. He loves the small affections that you give him. A kiss on the cheek, a soft kiss on his hand whenever he holds it, and the gentle embrace you give him when he’s not expecting it. 

With your strawberry basket in hand, you are satisfied with the bundles of strawberries you picked out. Red and luscious, you’re thinking about what you can make tonight. As you’re both getting home, you decide to slip into something more comfortable. You decide to go for the button-up night dress, it’s freeing to wear after being outside in the fields. Your handsome man is wearing a white T-shirt and pyjama trousers. Anytime that he could wear that white t-shirt, you catch yourself gazing at his strong arms. Whenever he stretches, you like that you could see his exposed torso. He’s looking at you with those crystal eyes; you could gaze into them and get lost in them forever.

Despite the heat, you are feeling decadent. Thinking about what’s in your pantry, you remember you have baker’s chocolate that would go perfectly with these sweet strawberries. You’re heating the chocolate and making sure you’re not burning it. As you're using the spatula to stir carefully, your Ume decides to sneak up on you and wrap his arms around your waist as you're working on your decadent treat.

“You can’t have any right now until I'm done with ALL of them”, you say in a teasing tone.  

“I’m not here for the strawberries, I just wanted to feel you close to me right now,” he says softly as he’s holding you tighter. 

“Isn’t this what someone says if they want something?”, you ask him coyly. 

“Maybe, perhaps.” He begins to gently tug on the night dress to expose your left shoulder. He’s slowly peppering you with soft kisses on your shoulder, trailing towards the nape of your neck. You know that he’s touching one of your weak points, but you will not relent.

“You… have…. to wait. I’m nearly done here.”  Your response tells him that you’re going to relent to him. 

“How much longer?” He begins to work his way to the right side of your neck and peppering kisses on your right shoulder. You feel that you are melting to his touch. His nose begins to nuzzle on the back of your neck. He can smell the faint hint of sun lotion and your sweet scent. It’s even sweeter than the strawberries you picked. 

“There, last one!” You quickly turn around and kiss him. He holds you just a little tighter. You run your fingers through his white, soft hair. You love the way that it curls outward. You permit yourself to show him hungry he makes you for his touch. As your hands are rummaging through his perfect hair, his hands begin to explore your body. His hands gently lift your night dress, and he places his fingers on your hips. He begins to twirl his fingers on the elastic of your underwear. You begin to laugh in between the kisses and try to grab his hands from further touching you, but he uses this as an opportunity to hold your hands. He pauses kissing you to pepper your hands with the affection you desire. 

The softer kisses are always preferable at times. So tender and sweet to the touch, you feel the electricity coursing through your body. There’s still a small ache in your sex that desires to feel him everywhere. He takes this moment to return to holding you and he lifts you on the kitchen counter. He has you cornered and he embraces you as he now wants to explore your body through those soft kisses. 

“Ume…I…need you,” you whisper to him.

“I know, my beautiful sunflower,” he tells you in between his kisses.

He decides to undress you right in this space. Every button that he unbuttons, he rewards you with another kiss. You know that you’re his, but each time feels more special than the last. As he reaches the last button, he feels hungrier for you than he was earlier. Your nearly exposed body and underwear are right in front of him. At times you feel self-conscious because of the stretchmarks and the scar on your right rib. He doesn’t mind; he’ll always find you beautiful.

This time, he chooses not to tease you and begins to fully expose you on this kitchen counter. You begin to feel shy and wrap your arms to hide your breasts. He slowly walks towards your decadent dessert and picks two of them up; He takes a bite and knows that this sweet strawberry was prepared perfectly. However, he knows that he is eager to taste you instead. He walks towards you and feeds you your creation. As he does, he grabs your hand, so you can hold the strawberry. As he hands it over to you, it exposes your breast to him. He begins to gently suck on your nipple. You can’t decide which feels better, the taste of your decadent dessert or the sensation that your Ume is making you feel. You become distracted and are moaning rather than eating. 

He stops to look up at you. As gentle as his gaze is, he leans closer to whisper, “I want you to finish eating your strawberry before I make you cum.” The whisper alone makes you moan, but within seconds, he’s trailing his way to get in between your legs. You feel his hot tongue playing with your clit. You proceed to continue eating your strawberry. The taste of the chocolate and the juicy sweetness of the strawberry combined with this sensation make it much more euphoric than you can imagine. As you finish the entire strawberry, you feel the urge to come building up. He proceeds to place one finger in between as he’s playing with your clit with his warm tongue. You’re leaning further back into the counter space. 

“Ume…my love…right there…” You feel like you want him even more. You long to feel his girthy cock inside of you. “My…love…I’m going to need more of you. This…isn’t going…to…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence as you’re coming. He proceeds to kiss you between your thighs and kisses his way back up your torso, trailing his tongue around breasts, and choosing to give you kisses on your neck. 

“Mmm, I think my sunflower needs just a little more…would you agree?” as he looks at you with dishevelled hair. 

You feel speechless as he walks to grab a plate of your strawberries. He hands them off to you before he proceeds to carry you to your bedroom like a bride. He gently places you on the edge of the bed. You proceed to eat a strawberry as you’re watching him turn around and take off his shirt. You see the muscles on his back and the slight scratches that you left from the last time. 

You get up and feed him a strawberry this time. You proceed to hand it off to him this time as you get on your knees to take off his pants. Ume is trying to concentrate on the sweetness of the fruit as you’re licking his exposed cock. You lick it and you slowly begin to kiss the tip of his cock before taking it in. The sweet taste of the fruit lingers as you are sucking his cock. You love that his cock at this point tastes like the fruit that you prepared earlier. You feel hungrier as you place your hands on his hips. His hands are rummaging through your hair and he is slowly beginning to thrust himself further into your mouth. He wants to save his cum for somewhere else. He makes you stop and lifts you to kiss you. You love how you can taste him and he can taste you with each kiss exchanged. The plate of strawberries is in the centre of your bed.

“I have an idea, how about I feed you some strawberries…as I’m making love to you?” He asks as he’s kissing your shoulders once again. 

You know that he will take care of your needs in the bed. You long to feel him inside of you. You nod and agree with his proposal. He gently places you on your side of the bed. The plate of strawberries is next to you now. He proceeds to position himself to enter you from the side. He gently begins to thrust into you. His arm reaches out to the strawberry as he proceeds to feed you. You begin to giggle because you can’t decide again which is more pleasurable, him or the taste of the strawberry. For each thrust, you’re able to bite into the fruit and finish it quickly. He kisses your back as you proceed to reach for another piece. The sensation of his cock inside of you as you’re eating is delightful. He begins to hold your leg up as you feel his pace quickening. 

“Mmmm…darling! Right there. Please…don’t stop.” as you’re grasping your hands into the sheets. 

“Do you… want to feel… me deeper inside of you?” he asks you in his softest voice. 

“Ye…s…Ume, I…want… all of you inside of me.” It’s becoming more challenging to concentrate on making coherent sentences. Your Ume knows that you’re nearly at the finish line. He decides to lay you flat on your stomach. 

“Please…I need all you.” You beg him. 

“Don’t worry, sunflower…you’ll be able to feel all of me.” He tells you. He covers your back with kisses as he places his cock back inside of you. You feel his cock going deeper and you feel yourself wanting to scream. He sweeps your hair to the side to make sure he can see the right side of the neck and shoulder. He is gently placing kisses as he is going deeper and slower than he previously was. 

“When…you’re ready…please finish inside of me. I need to feel all of you tonight.” You command him as you’re releasing another moan. 

“As you…wish.” He responds to you by picking up his pace. He pins your hands to the bed as he fully claps them. His cock went deeper and faster. His balls are now slapping against you. 

“Umi…I love…you so…much. I want to be…yours…” you say so quietly.

With this, he begins to cum inside of you. You feel the warmth of his cum between your legs and he continues to keep his cock inside of you. He showers you with kisses and draws hearts on your bare back with his fingers. He slowly pulls out.

“My sunflower, you were magnificent tonight. As sweet as these strawberries, if not sweeter,” he whispers to you before giving you one more kiss. 

He proceeds to grab the plate that is still next to you. He can fully savour the labour of your love.

[flurry-of-stars]

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈-𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂⋆｡°✩ 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 - 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴- 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴- 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴𝕴-𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙𝓘𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖝 ⋆｡°✩ Slow burn romance, female reader, small age gap (Fyodor is thirty, the reader is in her early twenties.) No Abilities AU 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 8k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Man...it has been a while. I've had this sitting in my drafts since May. It feels amazing to finally get it out. So sorry for the long delay! I hope you all enjoy! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡

“Damn it–!”

A sharp gasp of shock escapes you as your dominant hand betrays you, releasing the cup of tea seconds before it can reach your lips. The fragrant liquid, thankfully lukewarm, splashes on your lap and coat before thudding to the floor, thankfully undamaged.

Curling your hand into a fist, you draw it close to your chest, holding it with your other hand.

A sharp, burning sensation radiates through your fingers and palm, each pulse of agony sending jolts of discomfort through your arm. Inhaling sharply, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bear with the pain.

The pain was getting worse.

You were already well aware it was from the long hours you imposed on yourself as Fyodor’s translator. The lengthy days working away over these pages, treating each of his chapters with care to ensure each was translated perfectly from his native tongue into English, without his story being changed or translated incorrectly.

Well, at least hoped you were doing a good job of it.

You exhale sharply, releasing your pulsing hand from your gentle hold as you get up.

Bending down, your fingers curl around the gold handle of the cup, preparing to return it to its place on the small, new rolling table Dmitry had dropped off for Fyodor over the weekend. It's intended purpose was for a laptop but it made for a pretty good work space too.

Olga had bought it for him when she went into town, Fyodor had said. You smile. The last time you had tea with the couple had been pleasant…even if Dmitry had trouble speaking in English.

Your thoughts are disrupted as another jolt of pain shoots through your hand the moment you lift the teacup by its handle. Like a thousand little lightning bolts rippling through each digit down into your wrist.

Grimacing, you use your non-dominant hand to scoop the cup up, placing it down before you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up.

The bathroom in Fyodor's cottage was simple and practical, with only the essentials. Practical like him, you thought.

You couldn't help but admire the clawfoot bathtub, a novelty for you, and notice that there used to be a mirror above the sink, despite its absence now clearly marked by an outline on the wall.

You shrug off your burnt orange coat as you step into the cramped room, placing the wet fabric gingerly onto the sink, letting the dry portion hang off the side. With a determined effort, you grab the old sponge scourer nearby and begin scrubbing, trying to lift the sweet liquid from the fabric.

As you draw the sponge down the material, the pain flares up again. You wince, your hand trembling with each stroke, the sponge slipping through your fingers as searing pain ignites in your palm. You grip the sponge tightly, each squeeze sending waves of agony through your wrist.

‘Grit and bear it,’ you quietly whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath in to steady your nerves, ‘You can’t let something as silly as this stop you.’

You resume cleaning the coat, each movement accompanied by a few sharp huffs of pain.

Anger flares in your chest, mixing with the burning sensation in your wrist. You can't let something as trivial as a sore wrist stop you from salvaging your coat.

How pathetic would it be if a wrist injury kept you from cleaning your favourite coat? It would end up with a permanent stain, a constant reminder of your failure, and you'd have to abandon it—

Your anger falters, and your hand pauses mid-motion. 

Abandoning your coat was unthinkable. It’s a prized possession, one you couldn’t bear to part with. But if something loses its usefulness, it’s cast aside for something better, something newer, something more valuable.

No…no, no, no. You can’t let that happen.

As pain grips your hand like a tightening vice, you stifle a whimper, continuing to scrub the wet patch with increasing aggression. The determination to remove the stain overrides the pain throbbing in your wrist and hand.

You can’t let it lose its usefulness. You can’t let it be replaced by something better. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t…

No...no, it's okay....the stain is coming out...it’s all okay now… it's not damaged....it's still okay...It’s still wearable. It’s going to be okay…it’s still useful. It hasn’t lost its usefulness…

Breathing shakily, you glance at your wrist, the bandage damp. It’s not broken. No bones are sticking out, your fingers are intact, and your palm is still in place.

It’s just a bit of pain, that’s all. Some ibuprofen and you’ll be fine. There’s no reason to delay work over something that can be managed with a few pills.

As you hang your coat up to dry, you nod to yourself before leaving the bathroom.

You’ll take some ibuprofen and get back to work. The pills will ease the pain, and if they don’t, it really isn’t that bad. You can endure it. You have chapters to finish translating and only five days until the convention.

You have to keep going. 

You have to.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

A silvery light cascaded down upon her cheeks, casting an ethereal glow that seemed to transform her countenance into something otherworldly.

The teardrops that glistened upon her skin resembled stars, tracing a sorrowful path along the delicate contours of her face, only to fall, tumbling through the air like unheeded dreams.

It was in this moment that the true weight of my words struck me—a realization that pierced my very being. With my tongue wielded as a weapon, I had unwittingly thrust it into her heart, inflicting a wound far deeper than I had ever intended. How cruelly could one soul harm another in the throes of passion and despair?

My mind scarcely registered the sound of her chair scraping against the stone floor as she rose, her back turned to me, a sob escaping her lips that shook her entire form, quaking as violently as the bitter winds of winter might.

A constriction seized my throat, and my voice, once vibrant, was stifled in the depths of my anguish. In an instant, my body sprang forth, the chair clattering to the ground with a resounding thud. I could not permit her to leave. My heart, that treacherous organ, would not allow it; it throbbed with a fierce determination to bridge the chasm I had unwittingly created.

“No, wait, don’t go…!” I cried, leaping from my chair. I reached out to her, grabbing her wrist–

I tried to reach her—

Grabbing her hand in mine, I—

Fyodor’s pen clatters onto his desk as he rubs his face in frustration, letting out a soft groan.

No matter how hard he tries, the words refuse to flow from his pen as they once did. Gently, he pushes this page to join the other drafts for the latest chapter on the floor, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. 

Just days ago, his inspiration had been explosive. Like a match tossed into a canister of petrol, igniting his mind with a flurry of ideas so intense that he hadn’t slept, desperate to get every thought down.

Ideas had sprung to life like a box of fireworks.

Intense.

Bright.

Uncontainable. 

Now, pens lay empty on his desk, dried of the ink they once held, mere shells of their former selves. He had gone through so many pens and sheets of paper, he'd already needed to call Vivian purchase a restock of supplies on his behalf.

But now, he can barely write a few paragraphs without tossing the draft aside.

He’s gone back, rereading every chapter from the beginning to the latest. He’s even reviewed your translations, hoping that the sentences you’d woven beautifully in English would reignite something, anything within him.

But it has only led to more crossed-out sentences, reworked paragraphs, and shredded pages.

At one point, he even considered rewriting an entire chapter. One of the first chapters. Inhaling deeply, he pushes away from the desk and stands, moving through his room, lit solely by candlelight.

His steps are soft, boots gently tapping against the floorboards. As he moves, Tolstoy rises from his spot under his chair and trots after him, mewling and weaving between his legs.

Fyodor huffs, watching as the old cat bumps his head against his leg, meowing several times. Tolstoy lifts his paws towards him, making a kneading motion in the air. A plea to be held or pat.

“I’m fine, Tolstoy,” Fyodor murmurs, pacing the small room, his footsteps echoing around him. His gaze drifts from the feline to the cluttered shelf of books on his desk. His eyes skim the spines, each one bearing the name of a close friend.

The spines are covered in a thick layer of dust so dense that Fyodor’s finger leaves a clean trail when he brushes over them.

When he withdraws his hand, his fingertip is entirely black. He rubs the dust between his finger and thumb, studying the imprint with a thoughtful expression.

He moves along, using his fingertip to uncover each title, freeing each from the clutches of the dust that clings to them.

Each name represents a fond memory. Each book a reminder of his past, of times part of his heart still ached for. All of these books were cherished, beloved by him.

He felt as though these books were more than just the stories written inside. That they held his past memories in them as well.

Memories of when he received these books and those who were gracious enough to give them to him. It was foolish to yearn for the past. He was foolish to yearn for it.

His slender fingers continue along their path until–

His gaze shifts to the last book on the shelf, one coated with a thicker layer of dust than the others. Thankfully the dust had only accumulated on the plastic covering the book had been delivered in.

The grey hardcover book was missing its name along the spine, a fault by the manufacturer when they had first been in production five years ago. Fyodor was given the first copy to keep while the rest of the errors were destroyed.

It was his first published work—anonymously, of course. Vivian had created his pseudonym, a gesture for which he remained grateful, despite the name alias now representing something more painful.

His fingertip hesitates over the dust-covered spine, pausing as if uncertain whether to disturb it. It lightly caresses the edge of the plastic covering the spine before withdrawing, as if he had touched something he wasn’t meant to.

Inhaling deeply, his right hand caresses the back of his left hand, gently running up to a little ways above his wrist before slowly caressing down as he exhales. 

As he inhales deeply a second time, he focuses on the gentle caress of his right hand on the back of his left hand. With each breath, his hand traces a path up to just above his wrist before slowly descending again, as if following the ebb and flow of his breath.

The delicate movements were almost hypnotic. He exhales slowly, his body relaxing.

Why was he doing all of this?

His reason to write, to create and weave stories was no longer present. His writings, his novels….did any of it have a reason to exist when his own raison d'être was no longer–

He sharply exhales, glaring at the wall.

Suddenly, a loud mewl rouses his attention. He looks towards his desk as a furry paw plants itself on his arm. His dark eyes turn, gazing down at Tolstoy as he paws at his arm, mewling and chirping at him. He huffs, finally reaching down to scratch behind his ear.

“I said I’m fine,” he whispers, much more softly than before. His hand runs smoothly down Tolstoy’s neck, enjoying the softness of his plush fur. He follows the curve of his spine to the base of his tail before lifting his hand, returning to scratching behind his ear.

He turns his gaze towards the clock above his door. He hums softly in thought, finally pulling his hand away from Tolstoy’s soft fur. He gives a soft mewl, reaching out to keep patting at his arm.

However, Fyodor steps away, moving towards the door.

“It’s almost midday,” Fyodor murmurs to the feline, encouraging him to follow. His voice sounds breathless, even to his own ears as he runs a hand smoothly through his ruffled locks of hair, “I’m sure Огонёк has already gotten started on lunch.”

He pushes open the door, gratitude washing through him as he notices you kept the curtains closed and the candles lit just as he asked for hours prior.

He furrows his brow, puzzled by the unusual silence. Normally, you would already be bustling in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans as you prepared lunch.

You would look up and tease him, either about what took him so long to come help or ask if he was that worried about you burning the cottage down. A faint smile briefly flickers onto his face.

His leather boots echo against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the only other room you could be in.

Suddenly, a sound of discomfort reaches his ears, prompting him to quicken his pace towards the living area. He grabs onto the door frame for support as he calls out in concern, hoping for a response, “Огонёк? Are you–”

He pauses, his voice catching as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes scan your figure, starting at your bandaged hand that is clutched tightly to your chest. Your other hand grips it fiercely as if trying to suppress the pulsing, burning pain underneath.

Pages are strewn about on the rolling table and the carpet, creating white patches around you. Even your pen is lost in the mess. But what captures his attention the most is your expression.

Though your eyes widen in surprise at his abrupt arrival, your face is twisted in agony.

 Your eyebrows are furrowed together, lips pulled back in a scowl, and your eyes are glossy. It's not difficult for Fyodor to piece together what happened.

You pushed yourself too hard.

Again. After he had told you not to. After you promised you wouldn't.

You should have listened. Why didn't you listen??

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, yet again.” His eyes are like cold steel, assessing every detail of your struggle, his eyes moving from your bandaged hand, to the twisted look of pain on your face.

How could you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you insist on suffering this way? Did you enjoy making yourself suffer, when he was right here to help?

Why didn't you ask for help?

He continues with a chilling calmness, each word enunciated with a surgical precision, “Your discomfort is palpable, and yet you persist as if it’s inconsequential.”

Were you doing this on purpose?

“Mr. Dostoyevsky–” You open your mouth, attempting to explain, but Fyodor’s narrowed eyes cut you off, silencing you with their intensity.

“It’s as if you’re deliberately ignoring the physical damage you’re inflicting on yourself,” he continues, his tone devoid of warmth. “Do you honestly believe that this relentless drive will yield any true satisfaction, or are you merely too obstinate to face the consequences?”

Why are you being so stubborn? Why can't you just listen to me?

You bristle at his words, your frustration bubbling to the surface. You move the rolling table to the side, “You don’t get to dictate what I can and can’t handle!” you snap, moving the rolling table aside with a forceful shove. Fyodor’s eyes widen slightly, his usual composure momentarily disrupted.

He hasn’t seen this side of you before now. 

“I’m not going to stop just because you think I’m overdoing it!” Your voice rises, defiant and fiery as Fyodor goes ridged, his arms crossing over his chest, “I don’t need your approval or your pity!”

Fyodor doesn’t waver, his cold demeanor unmoved by your outburst,  “It’s not about permission or pity,” he counters, his voice retaining its unsettling steadiness. “It’s about your responsibility to yourself before you jeopardize your future.”

Your anger intensifies, a wave of frustration surging through you. “I don’t need a lecture on responsibility,” you retort sharply. “I know my limits. I’m capable of pushing through–”

Fyodor steps closer, his presence imposing, his tone taking on a steely edge. “Do you truly grasp what could happen if you persist?” His gaze pierces through you, forcing you to step back, dwarfed by his intensity. “This isn’t mere discomfort or fleeting pain. You risk a permanent injury that could render your hand useless.”

His voice drops to a frigid whisper, “Envision living with that consequence, knowing it was avoidable. Picture squandering your entire future because of a few extra hours of work. That’s the reality you face if you don’t step back and take care of yourself.”

For a moment, he notices your brows knitting together, your lips twitching as if about to curve downwards, your eyes appearing slightly glassy. But then, the fire reignites in your gaze as you step back, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. “A few extra hours of work isn’t going to cripple me! You’re just being paranoid–!”

“Сверхуважаемая госпожа.”

Fyodor’s tone, colder than the snow that fell two days prior, makes you flinch, your eyes widening in shock. He remains unmoved, his gaze penetrating as if seeking to unravel the deepest recesses of your soul.

His jaw tightens as he delivers a single, icy command. “Остановись.”

Your hands clench into tight fists, your eyes narrowing with defiance. As your vision blurs and your chest tightens with the sting of anger and hurt, you glance back at the rolling table, where your work remains incomplete.

Inhaling sharply, you turn, grabbing your shoulder bag, which holds several more of Fyodor’s chapters. As you prepare to push past him, he calls out, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you snap, “Since you clearly don’t want me here.”

Fyodor’s frustration is palpable as he follows you towards the door. The flames of the candles lining the hallway flicker wildly, some nearly extinguishing from the draft of your angry departure. “You are behaving like a child–”

“Oh, so now you see me as a child?” You retort sharply, not even glancing back. A harsh, humourless laugh escapes you as you wrench open the door. A frigid gust of air rushes in, extinguishing the remaining candles and plunging the hallway into darkness.

As the biting cold brushes against his skin, Fyodor’s body tenses involuntarily. You don’t look back as you leave, slamming the door behind you with a force that echoes in the empty hallway.

Fyodor stands alone in the darkness, his hands trembling slightly.

The impulse to chase after you gnaws at him, but his feet feel as though they are rooted to the spot by an invisible force. He stares ahead into the darkened corridor, his ears filled with the faint, almost nervous sound of his own breathing.

Even as Tolstoy approaches him, mewling and weaving his furry body against his ankles, Fyodor stays completely still, only the sound of his ragged breaths filling the dark corridor. 

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

Brown, withered leaves, exposed once more due to the snow melting crunch under your boots as you storm away from Fyodor’s cottage, your shoulder bag swaying wildly.

Anger and adrenaline still flood your mind, your body feeling rigid and tense. Your bare arms are wrapped tight around your body in an attempt to protect your exposed skin from the cold elements.

Honestly, who does he think he was, telling me what I can and can’t handle? He doesn’t even know me. I could handle this and more. If I really wanted to, I could even cartwheel right now! Juggle a trio of bowling balls even!

Well...if you had the strength--

An angered huff escapes you as you slip under the floral archway, the aroma of flowers doing nothing to soothe your furious spirit as their petals seem to curl further away from you and inwards. As if they aren’t sure what to hide from; the growing coldness or your burning anger.

Your boots click against the damp, slick cobblestone path, your eyes catching glimpse of a ball of vibrant orange up ahead. You glance up noticing a familiar orange tabby cat doing circles around a cute, handcrafted bowl with cute, tiny blue paw prints painted along the trimming.

Olga kneels down as far as her old body will allow her as she scoops the intensely smelling wet food onto the bowl, murmuring something sweetly in Russian as the tabby begins devouring the served food as if it would be starving.

As the elderly grandmother stands up straight, she blinks a few times, her eyes falling on you before she gives an old, weary smile, “Oh dearie! Why hello! What are you doing out here?”

Stopping at the gate separating you both, you watch as Olga approaches you, her steps slower and more careful than before, “Did Fedyka send you on an errand?”

You hesitate for a moment, boot tapping against the cobblestone path. You could just say yes and continue on your way. Olga would be none the wiser. But as you stare down at her, fully taking in her kind, warm smile, you feel your resolve caving, despite the anger still clawing at your heart.

“Not…exactly,” you reply carefully, still unsure if you should tell the elderly lady the truth. You could just save all your ranting and venting for later when you could call Trixie. But the idea is dismissed the moment you see her face fall. She moves closer, unlatching the gate and opening it.

“Here dearie, come in,” Olga insists, the loud creak of the old gate startling both you and the tabby cat. Although the feline quickly goes back to eating like her life depends on it, “I’ll make you some tea and you can tell me all about it.”

You hesitate to enter the elderly couple’s garden, your eyes flickering from Olga’s plump form to the cobblestone pathway leading to the bus stop. You hum, looking back as the tabby cat mewls cheerily, following Olga back up the cobblestone steps.

She stops, looking back at you. Her ears twitch as she mewls, as if asking if you're going to join them.

“Mitya is out today selling some of our homemade jam, so we’ll have the place all to ourselves. We can have some girl’s time.” A hearty laugh escapes her as she opens the door leading into her cozy cottage, the mushroom-shaped bell on the door ringing merrily as she opens it.

“It's been years since I last shared tea with my girlfriend's. Come, come.”

With a sigh, your mind is made up. You head after Olga, up the stairs and into her and Dmitry’s marital home. 

The moment you step over the threshold, warmth envelops you like a tight, welcoming embrace. A delectable aroma dances in the air, wrapping around you as if beckoning you deeper into the home with the promise of delicious, homemade food. 

The fragrant scent of fresh herbs fills your senses, mingling with the enticing aroma of deliciously seasoned meat and the sweet-tart notes of pastries cooling on a rack.

As your eyes begin to take in the small, cozy cottage, you notice the floral patterns on the walls, complemented by a beautifully embroidered tablecloth draped over an old, sturdy oak table.

Above the warmth of the crackling fireplace, an Orthodox cross catches your eye, hanging between photo frames that crowd the mantel. The more you gaze around the living space, the more religious imagery you see scattered about, alongside photos of faces you’ll never personally get to meet.

Your gaze drifts to the mantel, where Olga and Dmitry's wedding photos catch your eye, and your heart swells at the sight of her in an elegant wedding dress. One photo captures them at a sun-drenched beach, sharing ice cream and laughter, their joy palpable.

Another image shows them with someone else—Olga, Dmitry, and a heavily pregnant young woman—smiling warmly as they enjoy tea together at the same dining room table, a snapshot of blissful camaraderie.

The warmth radiating from these photos mirrors the inviting glow of the hearth.

An old rocking chair sits nearby, adorned with a warm knitted blanket made from light colored yarn. It seems the tabby cat has claimed this spot as her resting place for the time being. She yawns, stretching her soft body out before curling into a tight ball of fluff. 

Across from the rocking chair, a comfortable-looking recliner holds another similar knitted blanket, bunched on the seat as if someone shrugged it off before leaving. There’s a pair of reading glasses and an old, worn grey hardcover novel left behind as well, an old, fraying bookmark peeking between the pages.

To the right, the warm, welcoming kitchen beckons.

The cupboards are a pleasant, natural dark oak, accented with delicate floral designs in white and light mocha shades. One cupboard door features a painted bouquet of flowers that looks fairly new, judging from the light pinks and yellows used for the petals of the flowers.

One of the two stovetops burns intensely as a large pot of stew boils and bubbles away, the smell almost making your stomach growl.

On the windowsill, several small plants catch your eye—herbs, you realize, their names written in Russian on their pots. Beneath the sill, sweet-smelling pastries cool, their deep purple blackberry filling peeking out from beneath the small pastry stars on top.

And there’s Olga, murmuring to herself in Russian as she prepares the teapot. You hang back, quietly watching as she fills the delicate gold and blue metal teapot with water, the malty aroma of the black tea leaves wafting through the air.

Black tea...Fyodor had a habit of choosing those tea leaves too.

Once the pot is on the stovetop, she looks back at you, mirth in her eyes, “Come, come dearie. Make yourself comfortable. The tea won’t be long.”

Murmuring your thanks, you sit somewhat awkwardly at the sturdy dining table. The timber groans beneath you, as if annoyed to be roused from its peaceful slumber. You grip your black skirt nervously, picking at your tights while keeping your head down.

What should you say to Olga about what happened?

Olga and her husband seemed to know Fyodor very well—so well, in fact, that you briefly wondered if they were related. Their bond was strong.

If you dared to say anything against him, would she defend him? Would she be angry with you for storming out, for yelling at the man she spoke of with such fondness and care?

Maybe she would even be heartbroken that you, the one supposedly doing so much good for Fyodor, would turn around and lash out at him.

You grip your skirt tighter, your knuckles turning white as a flurry of thoughts and consequences clutter your mind.

Suddenly, the loud whistle of the teapot jostles you from your internal struggle. You look up to see Olga humming peacefully to herself, organizing a wooden tray with the teapot, delicate teacups, and a few of those delicious-smelling pastries.

She carefully approaches the table, placing the tray in the center before she sits down.

As she begins pouring tea into the cups, she looks at you gently and asks, “Now, tell me, dearie. What happened?”

She gently glides the teacup and saucer towards you, the spoon left inside the cup. You gaze into the warm liquid, getting a small glimpse at your reflection.

The weight of your argument with Fyodor still weighs heavy on your mind as you let out a deep sigh. Picking up the spoon, you begin stirring the liquid as you finally speak up.

Whatever would happen after you explained yourself, good or bad…you would just have to accept it.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

Honestly, who does she think she is?

Does she foolishly believe her own stubbornness will somehow be enough to stop the damage she is causing to herself? Perhaps I really should have a word to Vivian about her…unruly conduct…

Thoughts swirl like a snowstorm in Fyodor’s mind, his dark eyes scanning your translations but not fully taking them in. He huffs, flipping back to the first page before admitting defeat.

He tosses the pages back onto the rolling table, dropping his weary body onto the window seat in the living space, his hands raising to rub his face.

A mewl comes from his side as Tolstoy joins him, bumping his head against his ankle. He slumps onto his side, his paws gently batting at his shoe.

Fyodor gives an irritated huff, his eyes darkening as he looks down at the feline, “You’ve been pestering me all day.” He grumbles, standing and moving past the clingy feline.

He makes a beeline for the kitchen, the dark tabby on his heels, mewling and chirping almost urgently. He huffs, stopping at the table, “You have never been the clingy type, Tolstoy. I hope you do not intend to make this a permanent habit.”

The feline leaps up onto the dining table, mewling and nudging his broad head against Fyodor’s palm.

Tolstoy didn’t care about the complexities of human emotions and relationships. He was just a house cat, desiring nothing more than scratches and food. Fyodor couldn’t help but envy his simplicity right now.

With a sigh, he absentmindedly scratched behind Tolstoy’s ear, the cat purring contentedly as he settled against the table. Yet, his mind was far from the soothing rhythm of the moment; it wandered restlessly back to you.

What is it about the young that they believe themselves to be impervious? Where do they get this delusion that nothing awful will ever befall them, until they stumble headfirst into danger, as if the world were a playground rather than a battleground?

Fyodor knew this truth all too well; he, too, had once been young and naive, with dreams soaring above the mundane realities of life. A life free from troubles and strife. A true paradise. 

But you… with God as his witness, you seemed determined to earn the title of the most bullheaded human. Your fierce dedication was admirable, yet it danced dangerously close to folly. Did you not see the precarious edge upon which you teetered?

He recalled the way your eyes lit up when discussing your work, a flame that both intrigued and unnerved him. It was as if you were blind to the shadows lurking just beyond your fervor. How could he make you understand the balance between passion and prudence?

He huffs, a small smile playing on his lips. He wondered briefly if he had more grey hairs because of your impulsive, stubborn actions.

How many times had he found his mind wandering to you after you left for the evening, stressing and fretting like a mother hen?

Did she make it home alright? Did she eat? Is she taking the time to rest? How is her sleep schedule? She isn't staying up too late at night to work, is she?

His mind kept him awake a good extra hour each night as he stressed and worried about you.

It felt as if you were a tempest, sweeping through his carefully ordered life and leaving a trail of chaos in your wake.

Yet, there was something within that chaos. A certain warmth—a flicker of life that stirred something long dormant within him. He could almost picture you, fervently writing away at your translations, lost in the world of words, oblivious to the risks that accompanied such fervour with your condition.

It was infuriating, yes, but also undeniably captivating.

With a shake of his head, he forced himself to focus on Tolstoy’s rumbling, soft body, using the cat as a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts.

Perhaps he should apologise for being so hard on you. Sit down with a warm meal and discuss things properly. Maybe he could even help you write the translations.

He just didn’t want to douse the flame of your passion.

After all, wasn’t it this very fire that made you who you were? Still, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. The world was far less forgiving than the safe cocoon you seemed to inhabit.

As he steps away from the dining table to brew a fresh pot of tea, he begins wondering if it was possible to find a proper way to guide you, without extinguishing that precious flame in your heart.

Above all, he wished to ensure you were ready for the challenging journey that awaited you.

The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, and he feared it would be less about sunshine and rainbows and more about thorns and obstacles. His greatest hope was to prepare you for the trials that lay in your future.

He places the teapot onto the stovetop, reaching up into one of the cupboards. He retrieves the matching teacups, stepping towards the table to prepare everything for your return.

He huffs as he notices the once clingy, needy feline is now curled up, snoozing quietly at the end of the table. 

“I suppose you exhausted yourself chasing me around all day, hm?” He muses, resisting the urge to stroke Tolstoy’s soft fur, not wanting to risk the feline chasing him around for pats again.

As Fyodor leaves Tolstoy in peace, he hums softly and makes his way to the fridge, quietly sliding the door open.

His thoughts drift to what you might prefer for dinner upon your return. You had experimented with five different dishes this week, but most had earned only your disapproval so far. He surveys the remaining containers, a frown settling on his face. Given your past reactions, he doubted any of these meals would satisfy you.

He pauses, gripping the side of the fridge more tightly; whenever he was disinclined toward something heavy for dinner—or too preoccupied to prepare a proper meal—his mother would always offer him a warm bowl of манная каша.

A bittersweet smile tugs at his lips as he recalls how she would fill the bowl with nuts, fruits, and a drizzle of honey. Back then, he insisted that he didn’t need all the embellishments; plain porridge was sufficient. Yet, as he reflects now, he understands her desire to make it special and full of nutrients.

He reaches into the fruit box, only to find that with the season shifting toward Winter, the selection is limited to cranberries, apples, and pears. Disappointed, he crouches down and opens the freezer. There, next to the ice cube tray, sits a bag of frozen berries.

Perfect.

The sharp whistle of the teapot pulls him from his thoughts as he stands, the bag of frozen berries still in hand.

He places the berries on the countertop, removing the teapot from the stove, turning the hot plate off for the moment. Setting the steaming teapot at the center of the table, side by side with the teacups, he tries to recall where he last saw the bag of semolina when a sudden flurry of knocks at the door jolts him from his reverie.

You’re back already? But he hasn’t even had time to prepare the porridge. He calls out, his voice steady. “Come in, Огонёк.” After that, he heads toward the pantry, opening the doors to continue his search when another set of knocks echoes.

His lips press together in confusion as he closes the pantry. He was certain he hadn’t locked the door after you stormed out. Perhaps he had been too lost in thought to notice. But as he approaches the door, his frown deepens; it is indeed unlocked. He reaches for the handle, calling out, “Огонёк, the door is unlocked. Why are you—”

The door creaks open, a cold breeze sweeping in and playfully tousling Fyodor’s hair and coat. His eyes widen for a moment before returning to their usual calm.

Yes...that would explain why you weren’t opening the door.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

“--And so, that’s...what happened.”

Your retelling of events comes to a close, your fingers drumming against the table in a rhythmic motion. Your bandaged wrist rests tenderly on your thigh as you quickly add, “I know Mr. Dostoyevsky is only looking out for me. I know he doesn’t want me to end up in hospital or to lose the function in my hand…”

You pause.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the orange tabby trotting towards Olga, tail held high. She leaps up onto the grandmother’s inviting lap as you continue, “But this job, my work…it’s so important to me. I…” Your gaze drifts towards your bandaged wrist. You flex your fingers open slowly, “I want to be useful to Mr. Dostoyevsky. I have to be useful to him.”

Your fingers curl up tightly, causing another thunderous wave of pain to rush through your hand, into your wrist. You bite your bottom lip, suppressing those sounds of pain that threaten to leave you. Straining your voice, you continue, “His success as an author in the international world rests on my shoulders. If he fails, it’ll be entirely because of me…”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat, a shaky exhale escaping you as you stare at your hand—your stupid, wounded hand. Each pulse of pain feels like a reminder of what you suffered when you were small and vulnerable.

It's a burden you never asked for, a memory of your tainted youth...it looms over you like a storm cloud, threatening to unleash its fury.

Right now, that burden could cost you your job. Or worse; it could destroy Fyodor’s career as an author…and your own dream of becoming one. The weight of it all crushes your chest, tightening like a vice.

No…no, no…anything but that. Ruining your own dream was one thing, but dragging Fyodor down with you was unthinkable. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t—

The sudden clink of Olga's teacup settling back onto its saucer jolts you from the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind, snapping you back to the present. Yet, the anxiety clings to you, heavy and suffocating. You swallow sharply, your breathing unsteady as you meet her gaze.

You had braced yourself for a scolding for daring to raise your voice at someone so important to her. Instead, you find warmth in her eyes—a glimmer of compassion that eases the weight on your chest.

A small, weary chuckle escapes her lips as she strokes the back of the tabby purring contentedly in her lap. “Oh, that sounds like our little Fedyka. I remember him scolding that rambunctious friend of his just like that so many times when they were young.”

Another chuckle follows, accompanied by a calm sigh. Her lips curve into a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with a wisdom you can only dream of possessing. A flicker of hope ignites amid your anxiety, her presence wrapping around you like a comforting hug.

Olga leans forward, her gaze steady and reassuring. “My dear, I understand your need to push yourself. It sounds like you’re under immense pressure, feeling as if one misstep could make everything come crashing down.”

“But you must know his scolding came from a good place.” She leans back, her hand scratching the tabby behind the ears as she smiles warmly at you. “I know he worries for you, just as any good friend would.”

She pauses, allowing her words to settle before continuing. “I’ve watched over Fedyka since he was small. He has always been intent on ensuring the safety and well-being of those he cares for.”

Her gaze drifts to your bandaged wrist resting beneath the table. “I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but that fire in you—that passion and stubbornness—it’s a double-edged sword. While it drives you in your work, it’s also wounding you…causing you pain, isn’t it, dear?”

Her eyes return to yours, revealing a faint glimmer of nostalgia, of heartbreak beneath her warmth. “You are a determined young lady. But there’s a difference between determination and recklessness."

She reaches for the teapot, gently lifting it. “You should listen to him. I know you feel that everything rests on your shoulders, but it’s okay to take a step back. In fact, you should.”

As she refills her cup, her brows raise, and you feel the weight of her silent, parental scolding. “You were struggling to stir your tea just moments ago with that hand. I may understand your emotions and drive dearie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with Fedyka.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you cough awkwardly, looking away. A fond chuckle escapes Olga as her tone softens further as she places the teapot back down. “I know that boy. Trust me when I say you can lean on him. In fact, I’d wager he’d prefer you rely on him than continue bearing this burden alone.”

You pause, the weight in your chest still heavy, a storm of thoughts brewing in your mind, looming and ready to engulf you. You glance up at Olga as she delicately sips her tea and blurt out, “But what if I’m the reason he—”

“Ah-ah,” Olga interjects gently, lowering her cup just enough to speak. “None of that, dearie.” She sets her cup down with care. “Your primary concern should be taking care of that wrist of yours.” Her gaze softens, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “Mitya and I want to see you succeed just as much as we want Fedyka to. So please…take his advice."

Your gaze turns downwards, gazing into the cold cup of tea before you. You stare hard at your own reflection, taking the time to really absorb Olga’s words.

Deep down, beneath your drive for success and your fear of failure, you knew she was right. If you didn’t stop and rest like Fyodor had told you to, you would ultimately be the reason for your own failure. 

Your gaze drops to the cold cup of tea in front of you, studying your reflection as you absorb Olga’s words. Deep down, beneath your ambition and fear of failure, you know she’s right. If you don’t heed Fyodor’s advice to rest, you risk being the architect of your own downfall.

Fyodor could find another translator if needed, but if you continued to push yourself, you might lose the use of your hand entirely. You have to stop, even if that thought fills you with reluctance.

Yet perhaps there’s a compromise to be made. If only you could talk to Fyodor—

“Thank you, Olga,” you murmur, your mind racing with thoughts of how to make this work without needing to stop completely. You lift your teacup and down the cold, sweet liquid in one swift gulp before adding, “I need to go.”

With a warm, almost motherly smile, Olga watches you rise from your chair, her trembling hand still stroking the orange tabby’s fur. “Go on, dearie. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” As you move quickly toward the door, she calls out, “I’ll send Mitya around in the morning with some more tarts for you and Fedyka!”

With that, you step out of the cozy cottage, taking the cobblestone steps two at a time as you make your way back to Fyodor’s place. Your boots greet the cobblestone path as you hurry on, the gate groaning low as you shut it behind you.

Technically, you owe him an apology, don’t you? This isn’t the first time he’s scolded you for pushing yourself. Ultimately, Fyodor is just looking out for you, as any good boss and friend should.

A friend…

Warmth flutters in your chest as you step under the archway of flowers once more. The golden orb in the sky slips shyly over the treeline, casting elongated shadows that dance across the forest floor. Its rays shimmer and create a mosaic of bright highlights that ripple with the gentle movement of the water.

The sky is a canvas of pale blue, tinged with hints of orange and pink, hinting at the day’s slow descent while still holding on to the lingering warmth of afternoon.

The lake’s surface ripples faintly as if greeting you, even if you know otherwise.

A friend to Fyodor…those few little words had you smiling a goofy grin from ear to ear. You’d only been working for him for a few weeks, but you had grown more comfortable with him. Learnt more about him.

You’d learned his preferred tea leaves, his favorite meals, and his love for the cello and classical music.

You knew how he would endlessly gaze across the lake whenever you both sat outside. You even knew why he pursued this career path. You both cooked and ate together for every meal, chatting and joking with each other.

You spent five days a week, ten hours or more each day with him. Sure, those were your regular working hours, and it was part of your role to be there, but that had to count for something!

…Right?

You reach the cottage door just as your thoughts threaten to spiral into another overwhelming storm. Curling your non-dominant hand around the door handle, you twist it and push the door open, calling out, “Mr. Dostoyevsky! I’m–!”

Your voice catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you. Standing in the candlelit entryway of Fyodor’s cottage is someone else—someone you could swear you’ve seen before. His captivating eyes turn towards you.

You swallow your words, taking in his features: a strong jawline and an old scar that runs from the top of his left eyebrow, down across his left eye and halfway down his cheek. Yet, despite the prominent scar, his complexion remains fair.

"Handsome" is the first word that comes to mind.

One vibrant blue and one calm green eye scan you from head to toe, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he leans against the doorway leading into the living area.

Most of his hair, white and soft looking, like fallen dove feathers, is tied back into a thick braid cascading down his back, while the rest of his fluffy hair delicately frames his face.

He stands with his hands in the pockets of his grey woolen trench coat that covers his darker grey sweater and white scarf. He straightens up, tilting his head as he continues to appraise you.

Like Fyodor, this man speaks with a deep, gravelly voice, laced with a thick accent that’s subtly different from Fyodor’s. Ukrainian, perhaps? “Why hello there. You must be the brilliant assistant I’ve heard so much about.”

His heavy black boots click against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer, and you find yourself rooted in place, gripping the door handle slightly. He stops just a few steps away, towering over you— he's taller than Fyodor.

“I… I wouldn’t say brilliant—” you manage to reply, earning a deep chuckle from him.

“It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name. And what a pretty face it is.” He reaches out, capturing your non-dominant hand and lifting it to kiss the back of your fingers softly.

Your heart skips a beat, any word you mumble coming out as a stutter. You cough, trying to find a response as his unique eyes lock onto yours.

Then realization hits you like a ton of bricks. He’s one of the men from the photo in Fyodor’s room. Keeping your voice steady, you gently pull your hand back. “You… you’re a friend of Mr. Dostoyevsky’s. I saw you in that photo he has in his room.”

His eyes flicker with recognition, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black trousers. He tilts his head slightly, the mischievous smirk never leaving his face. “Ah, that old thing? I’m surprised Fedya still has it.” He takes a step back. “But you are correct, Огонёк~ I am a very close friend of his.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his teasing tone.

“My name,” he says, his voice a charming timbre, “is Nikolai Gogol. But please, I insist. Call me Kolya, darling~”

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