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foolinafable · 1 month

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family matters

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: You and Five return after seven years away in a different timeline- but you don’t return alone Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fluff, No Lila and Five, Pregnancy, Children, Season 4 fix it (kinda) Note: Got so much love on the last one I wrote this! Try to ignore spelling mistakes it's currently 3am.

── ✧

Stuck with only your irritable CIA colleague Five Hargreeves was anything but a good time. You both got lost at the godforsaken subway station he mistakenly teleported you both to. Travelling for a year by his side certainly mellowed you out. His personality slowly making you feel comforted as you both explored multiple timelines together trying to find your way home.

Surprisingly, the idea he possessed powers was the easiest thing for you to come to terms with, probably due to your job at the CIA making it seem plausible to you that the government does hide a lot- they’re even hiding the whole science of separate timelines. After around a year of trying and failing to find your way home, you and Five decided to ease off the vigorous schedule you unwittingly created, finding a timeline safe enough to stay in for a while allowing you both to rest and brainstorm ideas of how you could both find a way home to your families.

You both made a mistake. Falling to know how long a while would be you find yourselves still in the timeline you chose as your ‘temporary’ home six years later. Finding each other a lot less frustrating than at the start of this. You suppose that’s an understatement as you watched Five play with your child, a girl who possessed brown hair and green eyes not too dissimilar to her father’s. It almost wasn’t fair how much her features favoured his. But, seeing his beauty reflected upon her features could never be something you would complain about.

“Maybe if we get lucky the next one will resemble you more,” you remember his words from a few days earlier when you started to show a hand placed under your abdomen smiling as if this was the greatest gift he could ever receive. But you don’t think it would matter if this one ended up looking like their older sibling and their father. If anything you would prefer it- not that you would ever admit it.

Picking another fresh strawberry from the greenhouse of the abandoned home you now called your own. You placed it into the basket plans to make jam and jelly already filling your mind when you felt yourself begin to flush from the sweltering heat of the sun beating down upon the glass. Your skin heating up to a point of large discomfort, sweat beginning to gather at your temples. You sighed knowing that you couldn't continue to harvest anything else unless you wanted to face Five’s rath over you overheating again.

“Mom!” Maxine ran towards you eagerly hands encircling your legs as she got close enough for a welcoming hug. She quickly looked up towards you big green eyes staring at you prettily

“Hiya munchkin” You stroked the top of her hair as she smiled up at you with glee

“What doing?” the three-year-old questioned head titling as she waited for your response

“Strawberries” was all you replied grabbing the basket to show her

“Have one?” she asked pointing at the basket, batting her eyes to try to sway your decision. You simply plucked one out of the basket and gave it to her relishing in the delighted smile she sent your way before biting into the sweet fruit. You smiled at her before looking up to meet the other pair of green eyes that had made their way into the greenhouse. Five watched the interaction of his favourite girls softly only moving closer once you looked at him.

“Everything alright mumma?” he questioned noticing your flustered expression from the moment he and Maxine stepped foot in the conservatory

“A bit hot” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders as he drew closer, trapping Maxine in between the two of you as the back of his hand touched your forehead he hummed in agreement with your words

“Let’s get you inside the house, don’t need you getting heatstroke” You forced down the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics and simply nodded in agreement

“Some cold water and a sit down would be nice.”

He grabbed one of your hands and Maxine’s with the other leading you both back towards the house. After placing the basket of strawberries in the kitchen you quickly sat down on the couch feeling a slight ache in your feet while Five grabbed you a glass of water with more icecubes than you could even count, you smiled in thanks as he passed it to you while Maxine sat next to you, a small children book in hands that she was determined to read to you and her younger sibling as she wanted them to be just as smart as her.

You could hear Five pattering around the house, tidying up before you could even think about it. Maxine had quickly given up on trying to read, getting bored after two pages and was instead sitting playing with some wooden blocks by your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows when you couldn’t hear Five moving around anymore a stark silence surrounding you now.

“Everything alright?” you shouted trying to figure out where he had gotten to, heart fluttering when there was no reply. Setting your glass down on the table in front of you as you rose from your rather comfortable spot on the couch, you walked into the other room where your lover was his body was stick straight, eyes not daring to leave the notebook in his hand. “What?” you questioned softly walking towards him, eyeing the words on the book as you got close enough.

“This” he began astounded “Is our way home, it’s written by me but I didn’t write this. Another me did.” you simply nodded before smiling

“Looks like we’re going home.”

── ✧

You and Five found yourselves outside of what he assured you was his brother Diego’s house. Maxine who was resting her head on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his middle looked astounded by the snow while nerves filled you- the last time you saw any of his family was when you were put on the case that got you lost in the timelines to begin with and even then you barely saw his brothers and sister-in-law as they were quickly taken to hq for a show round to get them out of the way. You didn’t even want to think how you would explain this to them let alone to your own family but you guess this is the easier of the two as they all had powers and also been to multiple different timelines. Five set Maxine down next to you as he rapped on the door you quickly grabbed her hand before she could run off into the snow when the door opened

“You back!” the man, Diego you assumed, smiled as he looked at Five

“I am” he stared at his brother almost in shock that he had seen him for the first time for him in seven years

“Good” the man confirmed “We were all starting to get worried.” his eyes then turned towards you and the brunette-haired little girl who was trying to hide behind you “And you are?” he questioned and you quickly gave him your name his eyes sparking in recognition for some reason as he crouched to the ground to greet your daughter “And who is this little princess?” he asked quietly as Maxine started at him

“This is Maxine” is all you said feeling Five’s eyes on you knowing he wanted to wait until you got inside to drop the bomb you could see Diego begin to connect the dots as he introduced himself to you but he was clearly confused because he would know if Five had a child in the last three years in this timeline at least.

“I will explain everything once we get inside- can’t let the missus get cold” is all he said to Diego as the man allowed you into his home.

He quickly led you to the living room where to sat on the sofa, Maxine being picked up by Five and placed on his lap when she tried to climb onto yours, you turned towards him to complain but quickly stopped when you met his glower instead choosing to put a comforting hand on your tummy a habit you kept from your first pregnancy. Diego called for his wife Lila to come to sit with him when the door opened revealing more of Five’s family he whispered their names to you as they walked in all choosing to sit down when Diego told them that Five was going to explain where he’s been and why his colleague, a word you hadn’t been referred to as in a long time, was here. With most of his family here excluding Ben and Viktor, he cleared his throat to get their attention

“As you all know the marigold has made our powers a little different to what we are used to” They all made sounds of agreement “My blinking takes only to a tube station where each stop is a new timeline and we” gesturing to you “got stuck, unable to find our way back until now. We were away for seven years but for you has only been a few hours” he took their silence as a sign to continue “This is my wife” he spoke your name “And our daughter Maxine.” you sat in silence for a moment.

“Wait! This is the colleague he was always telling us about?” Luther asked excitedly you turned to the larger man confused when Klaus and Allison quickly agreed with him

“I thought he was joking when he said there was a cute girl who he worked cases with” Claire, Alison’s daughter, announced making her mother and uncles laugh

“I can’t believe you have a child” Lila spoke eyes wide

“Well he is going to have another one in a couple of months,” you told the already shocked woman who quickly smiled at the revelation while the others called out congratulations to their brother

“How far along are you?” Allison asked as she came up to you silently questioning if she could touch the small bump you simply nodded “We think around thirteen weeks” looking to Five who simply nodded

“She only started showing a few days ago”

“I can’t believe it” Luther called out while pulling funny faces making Maxine laugh as she got a little less shy around her family.

You smiled as you watched Maxine get up and walk towards Lilas’ children playing with them as Five’s hand found its way to yours stroking your knuckles. You never thought you could ever get home let alone come back home happier than you had left it. You suppose a thanks was due to your rather irritable husband and his wacky powers.

#five imagine #five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five #five hargreeves x reader #number five #the umbrella academy #the umberella academy #tua x you #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua s4 #the umberella academy x reader

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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prettyboykatsuki · 7 months

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sloppy seconds | s. getou + s. gojo

✮ tags ; afab +fem!reader, weird relationship dynamics, polyamory if you squint, mild obsession, overstimulation + unprotected sex, wet and messy, dubcon (gojo references passing out on readers end but its all consensual) 18+

✮ wc ; 2.3k

✮ a/n ; nonsensensically horny about this idk

Suguru doesn’t mind sharing. Not with Satoru.

Never with Satoru.

It’s easy to mistake that willingness for benevolence, and for a lesser sorcerer - fear. But it’s neither, nothing so complex. Nothing worth philosophizing over, something Suguru loves to do. Suguru just doesn’t mind sharing with Satoru for anything.

If he has to explain himself - it’s like this. Satoru is an extension of Suguru himself. A part of him, ingrained in him, grown into him. Not like ivy vines, but a flower pushing through concrete, a stubborn spectacle of Suguru’s gray matter. Satoru is the bluebell that refuses to be plucked, to die, to be anything but involved.

That and Satoru is not good at not coveting all things Suguru owns. He’s even worse at try to pretend he doesn’t want them. It's pitiful and frequent enough to make Suguru wince every time. A boy born into God doesn’t know how to play fair, even when his best efforts are made to do so.

When Satoru longs for something, his whole body has to whine for it. His eyes will flutter and he’ll slow himself down like a sloth, laugh less. When he really, really tries - he almost becomes a shell of himself. A shell of a shell, a masquerading puppet.

He’s not equipped for it. Suguru finds the whole display pathetic.

Well, Suguru likes appeasing him, too. That’s part of it. He’s not so dishonest that he can’t recognize that he enjoys seeing the way Satoru breaks the things Suguru gives him. There’s a novelty in that display, like a child crying for a toy and playing too rough. Suguru fixes them, sees if Satoru learns from his mistakes and he never does. Satoru likes things that are shiny, things he can’t have. Discards them and loses interest when it’s already his.

Suguru never gives Satoru something unless he’s certain he doesn’t mind it being broken, or being used, or being a little messy. If there is any apprehension, Suguru won’t do it. Won’t let Satoru cry his way into it either.

He also likes the chase. Satoru does. Like an overgrown dog. Likes begging and pleading, making a big show. He can be manipulative too, if it’s something that has to be taken, but he’ll heel if Suguru puts his foot down.

Most of all, Suguru enjoys cleaning up after Satoru’s messes. It makes him feel important. There’s always an undercurrent of amusement and warmth when Suguru picks up after Satoru. The strongest is uncharacteristically sloppy, and doesn’t know how to indulge in things without getting sick of them instantly.

Their relationship is like this - Suguru is the hand that feeds, and Satoru is the thing that bites. Suguru sighs and clicks his teeth, but the scars in his fingers and all the bite marks prove that he doesn’t really care about Satoru learning his lesson. He just likes to feed, likes to watch Satoru eat off his hand for a while before Satoru gives up on being good and uses his mouth to devour. Suguru watches this happen idly, lets the whole thing roll off of his sleeve and laughs. Because that’s just Satoru, after all.

For all reasons above and then some, Satoru's interest in you doesn't shock him at all.

Suguru loves you. Maybe in some twisted way, but it’s love. You’re rather obstinate. He suspects he might have a type, but he likes you so much for it. When Suguru pushes your buttons - you’re not the kind to sit back and take it. And for how much Suguru gets on your nerves, Satoru gets on yours worse. Between them, only Suguru only saw the best in you. Satoru didn't understand that part of you is what makes you so special. Only you could refuse him so often and keep Suguru wrapped around your fingers, unable to ignore you or keep his hands off of you.

(He’s a good enough man to you just to make you melt since he knows if you really got mad you'd leave. He knows how to smile and sorry until you lay in his arms and hit him soft because you claim to still be mad.)

The decision to share you is one Suguru makes lightly. It’s featherlight and simple. Satoru will indefinitely break you in some way. Will rip at you like the ill-mannered man he is. Suguru will bask in it like he always does. Satoru is only so keen on having you because Suguru so utterly adores you. Of course he knows that. But curiosity always wins Suguru over. He couldn't help but want to know what exactly Satoru will do with you once he had you.

It surprises him after, but Satoru doesn’t lose interest in you as fast as Suguru expects. Or at all. Maybe he should’ve predicted that, since he knows best you’re not so easy to break.

But Satoru tries. God, does he try to just do that.

Suguru glances back towards Satoru. He has a lot more energy than him. Enough to fuck you utterly dumbstruck

He watches on as he does it now, with the same mild fondness. Something stirs seeing you like that of course, but it’s not so distracting he can’t do other things.

Satoru has you in his bed with your legs pinned up against your ears. Impatience makes an interesting image of Satoru. His sweatpants are pulled over the meat of his thigh, covered in cum and sweat since he refuses to take them off. His shirt is still on in much the same condition, though the black fabric masks some of it. Still it sticks unmistakably to his abdomen, clings tight to the lines of his abs.

Satoru himself seems keen on making himself sick on you. His hands are folded underneath your knees with his face against yours - warm, wet and sloppy kisses making the entire room sound sticky. The air of his apartment is so thick with lust, Suguru’s sure he could slash through it with a knife and still not make it to fresh air.

Suguru is a little used to it. So he’s horny, but he’s not there yet. He approaches the bed with a smooth and familiar demeanor, the mattress dipping underneath his weight as he sits next to you. Your eyes are tear stained and wet as you blink, sensing his presence even amidst your delirium.

You try to reach your hand out for him but Satoru is quick to shut it down. Suguru tsks.

“Don’t get greedy,” Suguru reprimands, and Satoru only shoots him a frown. His focus in fucking you open doesn’t cease for even a minute. “Missed me did you?”

Your mouth forms around his name. It tries, but the words are muffled by Satoru’s own lips again. Suguru laughs a little louder this time, but doesn’t stop Satoru in any way. When he pulls away from you, your eyes are glazed over. Mouth open, tongue sticking out and covered in spit. Bitten to hell and pink with someone else's saliva. Suguru reaches towards your face and wipes your mouth, his back facing Satoru. You whine, letting your face curl against his hand. Desperate, so desperate for him despite being fucked out of your mind.

“So greedy,” Suguru teases, because you are - because he’s made you that way so perfectly in his image. “Satoru isn’t doing a good job?”

Satoru grumbles with possession he’s hardly earned, but again - this is of no concern to him. He watches Satoru ratchet his hips a little more, watches him fuck you on his cock even deeper than before. Your eyes roll back and your jaw goes slack, and from this angle - Suguru can see the way all the loads his best friend has pumped in you have gathered at the base of his cock. A thick, creamy ring of white making your pussy deliciously sloppy. Your cum drips down your sex, paints your ass white as he keeps fucking him into you with all that stamina.

That’s what gets him, he finds. All that energy, all that mess. Suguru feels a shiver roll through him as Satoru fucks his loads into you deeper. He’s longer where Suguru is thicker so Suguru imagines how far that really goes. How hot it must be inside of you, fucked so ruthlessly you’ve gone completely stupid in bliss. Satoru can fuck like an animal just like he eats like one, and god don’t you look so pretty being ripped apart in front of him.

Satoru bottoms out and stays there this last thrust, so hard the bed shakes. His thighs stick to yours as he grinds his hips up, pulsing against your gspot - reaching right into your womb. You moan brokenly, whimper as you get fucked. Suguru knows it now - that it means Satoru is about to cum in your greedy little cunt for umpenteenth time unconcerned with the consequences.

Satoru shivers, riding out his high as he pumps whatever he has left into you before he pulls away. Thick strings of arousal keep you two together before Satoru inevitably manages to get off of you. He sits on the back of his legs, admiring his work - his hands going to smack your puffy cunt - pleased and finally relieved. You yelp, completely worn out.

“You didn’t pass out this time,” He says, pleased and completely different than he was before “Good girl.”

You let out a pained whine, and Suguru coos.

Satoru gets off the bed and looks for a water bottle to drink, peeling his shirt off when he finds it and rehydrating himself. He has the courtesy to come back and let you have some when he returns. You swallow it as best you can when you’re laying down and drinking it from his lips.

“You gonna have your way with her now, Suguru? How cruel.” Satoru says.

Suguru ignores him. “Go wash up and order dinner.”

Satoru hums noncommittally and disappears, leaving you alone together. When Suguru replaces Satoru’s weight in the bed - your reaction is immediate. You close your legs, but Suguru forces them back apart as he gets a good look at your sore, abused cunt.

Satoru can be so brutal when he wants to, but thats what he likes most to see. You’re in a sorry state. He uses nimble fingers to open you up - looking with a wicked grin as your cunt opens up for him. Nearly gapes from how stretched it is, how much Satoru has fucked you. You’re still soft and sticky inside, your clit hard and swollen. Full to the brim with Satorus seed, heady with his scent.

He tsks at Satoru’s unprofessionalism, wonders if he’s been as dexterous as he should’ve been.

The questions answered when Suguru touches your pussy and you pull away - skittish and helpless as he pinches the hard bundle of nerves. He whistles at how easily you’re stimulated, and then groans at the way Satoru’s cum starts to drip out of your hole. He uses his pointer finger to collect it back up - pushing it back where he wants it. You cry out - for Suguru mostly.

Suguru hums delicately as he picks up after Satoru’s mess.

He unclothes you properly first. Takes off your shirt and dirty shorts before he undresses himself. You like skin to skin, so his shirt comes off as his pants lay low on his hips. When he’s like that, you reach your arms around his neck like you know what’s coming. Suguru chuckles at how instinctual it is, lets you reach out for him - your sticky body adhering to his skin.

“Messy little pussy. Going to let me fuck you some more? Fuck another load into you, huh beautiful?”

You nod stupidly. He kisses the side of your head. Of course you will.

It never fails to send pure electricity up Suguru’s spine when he fucks you like this. Never fails to make him so hard he’s lightheaded, feeling how soft and wet and sloppy you are. Your cunt doesn’t resist him in the slightest. He slides his thick, heavy cock right into your pussy with unbelievable ease and feels everything. Feels your walls pulse with tremors of orgasms, overstimulation making you dizzy with need.

Suguru groans. You feel incredible like this. Feel perfect, so stretched open, so delirious, full of his best friends cum. He’s never felt a single thing so euphoric as this.

He ducks his head down to give you the proper care. The best part of all of it for him. His mouth latches on your tender tits and his hand goes between your bodies - thumb circling your clit as he bottoms out easily into your pussy and stays there.

It’d be a waste to fuck you hard, everything dripping out where Satoru has worked so hard to fill. Suguru opts instead to lay you out on your spine and grind into you. Your legs weakly wrap around his waist as the head of his cock bullies your gspot, pushing into you and rubbing against the sensitive spongy area. Silky walls soggy as they cling to him while you cry out again.

With Satoru, you mostly keep to yourself. Bratty and firm. But with him, you’re so needy. You whimper his name and beg for his attention and ask for something you aren’t sure of because you trust Suguru so completely. You forget your obstinance as you beg him for a proper orgasm, not one that happened to get rung out of you because Satoru can’t help himself.

Suguru can never last long like this, but he lasts long enough to fulfill your wishes. He relishes in the weakened pulses of your pussy, spasming around him for the last time. Your nails dig into his biceps, as he hums against your tits and lets you ride out your continued high.

Only once it’s over does he let himself cum. Buries himself as deep as he can go and gives you his own load, grunting into the crook of your neck as he shakes - his abs tightening before going soft inside of you. Thick white ropes of cum filling you even deeper. Sloppy fucking pussy for his pretty. perfect girl.

“Suguru,” You whine, your hands gripping onto him for life - usual personality evaporated to mush. “Suguru I love you,”

He laughs to himself. See? No issues. Suguru always knows how to put you back together.

“I love you too, baby.”

#getou x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #writing tag #dubcon cw #idk if i like this i just wanted to get it out

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coryosbaby · 10 months

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—“ʙᴀʙʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜɴɴʏ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ !”

♡ content warning . cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, squirting, servant! reader, dom munch Coryo my beloved <3

Your life begins to escalate one day when you come into Coriolanus Snow’s office.

You aren’t new to the capital, most definitely not, but you’re new to him. He’s just as handsome as all your coworkers had talked about— and just as strict. The moment you walk through the doors and introduce yourself as his new maid, he’s already barking orders and giving you a list of things to do. Not before his eyes wonder over your thighs, tits, mouth— but you don’t notice that. No, of course you don’t. You’re a shy, timid little thing….almost like a bunny.

Maybe that’s why Coriolanus names you that.

Members of the capital, no matter how much privilege, can’t exactly rename their workers. But it seems that Coriolanus has. Because no matter what, that’s what your name seems to be from now on— Bunny. When you need to fix him his meals, when you clean up the clothes littering his room or the empty wine bottles on his table, there he is.

“Good job, bunny.”

“Such a good girl, bunny.”

“Thank you, bunny. C’mere, why don’t you have some wine with me?”

And that statement itself is what leads to this particular night: you’re sitting across from Coriolanus, your feet nervously tapping against the wooden floor, taking small, small sips out of the expensive wine glass he had passed to you. You don’t quite understand why he is offering this, but what you don’t know is that you’ve enamored him. Your hard work, your perfect resilience at following his orders. You are everything Lucy Gray never was: compliant. But Coriolanus never felt this strongly about Lucy. No, not really. She was a pawn, a way to work his way up to the top. But you caught him by surprise.

His blonde curls are golden in the lamp light, and he’s undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. You try not to drool at the sight of his tanned chest peeking out of the fabric or the way his thick, muscle-ey thighs spread simultaneously as he speaks to you.

“—but as I was saying. He’s quite ridiculous. He’s completely unintelligent, weak minded, and—“

He stalls, watching your small, shy smile. He knows you have no idea who he’s talking about, even though he’s been going on this rant about another business partner for the past twenty minutes. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about these things with… a maid.”

He doesn’t say it in the sense that he’s disgusted. He merely seems to be choosing his words carefully. You shrug meekly, trying not to upset him.

“I don’t mind, sir,” you say, twiddling your fingers. “In fact.. I think I enjoy it. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

How sweet.

Coriolanus’ eyes thread through with a rather playful look, and he takes another sip of his wine as he takes sight of your almost see through tights.

“I told you, Y/N. Don’t call me sir.”

Your eyes widen a bit, in fear of displeasing him. You set your glass down shakily.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“I’m kidding. Lighten up, Bunny, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You let out a small, awkward chuckle along with him as he utters the words, anxiety coursing through you. You watch as his finger traces the rim of his wine glass. He looks up at you with those familiar icy blue eyes, his smile suddenly fading, and something dark flashes over him as he locks you in with his gaze.

“Unless you want me to.”

Your pouty lips part, a shiver running down your spine. He’s looking at you with something you can’t quite place— is it anger? Intrigue?

Or maybe, perhaps, possession?

You let out a small huff of laughter, setting your glass down and getting up from the table.

“It’s been amazing talking with you, sir—“

“Coriolanus.”

“C-Coriolanus. Yes. But it is quite late. I think I should be getting back to my quarters…”

You attempt to brush past him, but his fingers grab your wrist and he pulls you in front of him.

“You don’t really want to stay there, do you?” He says, his lips turning into a thin line. “I know how uncomfortable your bed must be.”

“It’s fine, really! I’m thankful enough to be staying in the capital..” your face floods with heat. “And… also thankful to be working for someone as incredible as you.”

Coriolanus doesn’t say anything. He just gives you this look, his expression amused but also intrigued. His thumb still strokes your wrist in gentle circles.

“Why don’t you stay here in my room tonight, then?” He suggests softly. “I can give you some clothes. I don’t mind sharing.”

If you’re being honest, the thought of going back to your quarters and surrounding yourself with all the other servant girls makes you want to throw up. And besides, Coriolanus is a superior. It’s not like you can say no to him.

“Thank you so much,” you sigh out. “I’ll stay out of your way for the rest of the night, I promise.”

You don’t even realize how tall the man really is until he lifts himself up from his seat. He lets go of your wrist, and you put both hands behind your back as he towers over you.

“No need to thank me,” He says, his fingers brushing up against your cheek and pushing a stray strand of hair out of the way. “You’re an amazing worker.”

His thumb brushes against your chin, then up to your bottom lip. He pulls the plump skin down and watches it snap back against your teeth.

“So obedient..” he whispers, and you can feel something begin to tingle on your lower half.

He breathes heavy now, and you can see him leaning in. You know what kissing is, but he can’t possibly be trying to kiss you right now.

…right?

Wrong. He grabs your face with both hands and presses his mouth to yours. It’s rough, but it’s slow and it’s passionate. He kisses you like you’re made of sunlight. He kisses you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

Or at least, that’s how you perceive it.

Gentleness gives way to hunger, something you’ve grown used to but not when it’s as strong as this. You can’t help but wrap your arms around Coriolanus’ neck as his tongue probes at your mouth. You let him in, timid but desperate to feel any part of him inside of you. His big hands move to your waist, gripping the skin harshly as he turns your back away from the table and towards his bed. Fastened in red silk and fine embroidery, it’s soft when he pushes your body down onto it. He pulls away as he looks down at you. He makes sure to keep his eyes on yours as his fingers slide underneath the hem of your skirt. You’re almost frozen, awkward and, although you want this, scared. Coriolanus moves moves his fingers over your underwear, brushing against your clit.

“You’ve never done this before,” he mutters against your ear. “Have you, little bunny?”

You whine, bucking your hips up into his touch.

“Coryo.”

Coryo. Coriolanus’ cock kicks, harder than it was before if possible.

“Answer me.” He demands, pausing his movements on your cunt.

“No,” you cry. “No sir, I haven’t.”

He groans, patience wavering as he finally slips his fingers underneath the crotch of your underwear and brushes against your bare pussy. He presses down onto your clit with the soft pads of his fingers and rubs tight little circles onto the bundle of nerves. You gasp, your nails digging into the sheets below you. Your legs spread on their own accord and your thighs lift up, giving Coriolanus more access. He smiles at your neediness, watching as you begin to fall apart already.

“So pretty,” Coriolanus coos. With his non stopping stimulation to your clit you can already feel yourself getting close. “After you cum from this I think I’ll taste this pretty cunt. How about that, angel?”

“Wan’ it so bad,” you whimper. Your legs attempt to squeeze coriolanus’ hand but he pulls them back apart harshly. “Oh, please sir! I wanna cum…”

“And you will. Just keep whining like that baby, keep making those little noises for me.”

And when you cum the first time it’s like seeing stars, Coriolanus’ palm grinding right up against your achy clit, your legs shaking. It’s perfect. But nothing can compare to this next moment: Coriolanus’ cock hanging thick and heavy between his legs, his clothes and yours now discarded, as he prods at your soaked entrance with his tongue. He swirls the wet muscle around your hole, quick to slip the tip just barely inside. You shake, your hand gripping his golden curls, and you wonder how you have such a privilege to have the upcoming president of panem nestled between your thighs.

He licks up your slick, pulling back with a groan.

“You taste so good, baby.”

His tongue pushes back in, ravaging your cunt with his mouth and grinding his cock against the surface of the bedsheets. You mewl, your eyes rolling back. Coriolanus’ tongue moves up to your swollen clit for a moment, and he pulls away again— you’re now realizing that it’s purposeful. He’s doing it to tease you.

He takes in sight of your pussy, plump and swollen, the curly hair at the top of your mound absolutely adorable to him. He uses his thumbs to spread apart your lips, your hole stretching out and exposing your insides to him. He watches as it clenches desperately, all small and tight, and he can’t wait to stick his cock in there. With a deep shaky breath he breathes in your cunt and dives back into you. Your legs try to close around his head, but his big hands grip your thighs and pull them back apart. When you manage to keep them open he grabs your flailing hands and holds them, an oddly sweet gesture that he himself didn’t even expect to do. He presses the small things against your belly, his jaw working harder than the people of the districts to get you to cum.

“Coryo,” you whimper, when his lips wrap around your clit again. “Im gonna cum on your mouth, ‘m gonna cum all over it—“

And hearing these words makes Coriolanus hums, his finger moving up to your hole and slipping inside. He wastes no time, fingering your hole intensely as you get closer and closer to your high. And with one last flick to your clit, you reach it.

Your body freezes, ecstasy flooding through you, your vision giving out. Your first orgasm was good, but it could never compare to this. No, this was something different. Your pussy begins to squirt slick all over Coriolanus’ mouth, his chin, the sheets. Coryo lets out a desperately loud moan, his tongue lapping up all over your release vigorously, his eyes rolling back when he himself cums against the sheets.

What a brilliant capital citizen, cumming so quick like that at the taste of a servant’s cunt. But he can’t find time to think about the humiliation— he’s too busy devouring you, and when he does pull away your fucked out face distracts him. He moves up your body, his cum dragging a sticky line against your leg, thighs, tummy. He kisses you, chin dripping in slick and his cock kicking against him once again. His hands take hold of your legs, a fucked out haze taking over your brain as you become limp in his grasp.

“Turn over,” he demands, desperate. “Turn over now, bunny.”

And with enough energy to spare, you turn onto your stomach and present your ass to him like a bitch in heat. His cock, now limp but so help him if he isn’t going to get it up and fuck you, rubs up against your small entrance. And when he pushes in, giving you all you’ve wanted for months and more, you let him take your innocence like the obedient girl you are.

#Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #Coriolanus snow fanfic #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #thg fanfic #hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #Tom blyth

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distantdarlings · 3 months

Text

SHEER HEAT // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.1K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After a month of Theo and his friends picking on you, you finally decide to stand up for yourself. It just doesn’t go exactly how you were planning.

+ WARNINGS - Gender-Neutral reader, Theo is picking on reader, language, kissing, kissing without permission, tension, not fully proofread (please lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Shameless - NAYM

- - -

The sky outside grew golden with the early morning sun. The rays of liquid gemstone shone across the windowsill, casting waves of reflection across the stone floor and your shoes. You tilted your foot back and forth and marveled at how the polished leather glistened.

There was a soft sweater across your shoulders and a small coffee cup in the corner of your desk with a sugar spoon, wandlessly swirling about the liquid.

Technically, beverages and food were not allowed in the classrooms, but Professor Flitwick was partial to you and didn’t mind if you sipped on a coffee or tea every once in a while.

Despite the early morning and your desire to be back in bed, you couldn’t help but feel the warm, content feeling spreading across your chest. You were grateful to be at Hogwarts, surrounded by your friends and—

“HELLO, TESORO!”

You jumped at the shrill shout coming from the door of the classroom. You and the other students glanced over to see a smirking Theodore Nott sprint across the room toward you.

You instinctively flinched at the sight and inched away from him just as he crashed his body full-force into your desk.

The wooden hull of it vibrated and sent your coffee mug flying through the air. You shrieked at the image and stood abruptly to avoid the brown liquid coating your lap.

Your breakfast coffee now frowned up at you from the ground with all of its shattered bits and splashed beverage.

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Theodore Nott, you’re such an asshole!” you shouted through gritted teeth. With a wave of your wand, the mug reformed itself perfectly, and the liquid swirled into a small bubble of liquid in the air before dissolving into bits of air.

“Ah, you don’t need that stuff anyway—it'll make you jittery and keep you up all night!” he chuckled to himself.

Just as he’d made the joke, his posse of equally annoying boys showed up behind him, laughing along with him.

“I think that’s for me to decide and not for you to send crashing to the floor!” you argued back.

“What if someone had done that to you?”

“Hmm,” he pretended to think. “Well, I suppose I’d give them what was coming to them…unless it was you, of course.” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You sneered and rolled your eyes, realizing you’d never get anything through his thick skull.

“Whatever, Theo, just leave me alone,” you sighed and dropped back into your seat. He giggled irritatingly, headed to the back of the classroom, and selected a seat beside his friends.

You had no idea what you’d ever done to make him feel like he could harass you all the time, but you were getting to a point with his behavior. And if he kept it up, that point would be driven straight through his ugly face in the form of a fist.

At the sound of his continued giggling, you glanced back at him. Once you had, he caught your eyes and wiggled a few fingers at you.

You quickly turned back around and focused your head down on your newly-fixed mug. It was one of your favorites and—to be honest—had pissed you off entirely too much that Theo had broken it. It didn’t matter that it could be easily fixed; it mattered that he had broken it in the first place.

The rest of the class had passed relatively quickly, even though you could hear Theo and his friends’ little teasing giggles occasionally. You just did your best to ignore it.

By the time Professor Flitwick had announced that evening’s homework and dismissed the class, you were already out of your seat and halfway out the door.

You could still hear their little taunts all the way out the door and down the hallway. All you wanted to do was go back to the Great Hall, get yourself a refill of coffee and enjoy it in silence.

You had about a half-hour before you needed to be at your next class, and neither Theo nor his friends were there.

You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and slipped through the grand doors, allowing your mug to float from your hand and find its way to the nearest flagon of coffee.

If anything, coffee tended to be considered a Muggle drink around Hogwarts, but none could deny its excellent caffeine effect.

Wandlessly, you asked the mug to fill itself up to the brim and then watched as it did. You smiled a bit at the peacefulness of the Great Hall when no one else was in there.

You could hear the candles overhead and the fireplaces crackling softly, and the coffee trickling like a small stream. It gave you a sense of home, just like it always had.

When your mug was full, you took a seat at the empty Gryffindor table and settled your eyes on the flickering flames that reflected on the stone hearth.

“Hey, Tesoro.”

You jumped and turned toward the entrance. Theodore Nott was standing just there with a mischievous smile on his face.

You groaned audibly.

“Theo, I’m not in the mood. Haven’t I made that clear? I just want to enjoy my coffee while it’s not knocked into the floor.”

He laughed a bit.

“Aw, I’m sorry about that earlier,” he smiled. “It wasn’t my intention to knock it over.”

He crossed over to you and sat across the table from you. You refrained from tossing the coffee over him.

“Okay, so when I said I wanted to be alone—”

“I understood, and I’ll be here with you to support you through it.”

You frowned and stared at him. He wore a stupid smile branded across his face, obviously proud of himself for the dumb things he was saying.

“Alright, this was completely unpleasant, and I think I will enjoy my drink elsewhere.” You started to stand and head toward the exit, when Theo also stood and began to follow you.

“Theo! No! Leave me be!”

You increased your pace toward the doors, but he did the same. He matched your speed, ending up right beside you. His legs were significantly longer than yours, and he managed to keep up with you no matter how fast you were going.

You sighed and stopped right at the door, facing him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, with a shit-eating grin spread over his face.

“We are not going anywhere, dummy,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And I will stand right here until you get bored and leave.”

“I guess we’ll be here for a while, then.” He shrugged and shifted his weight against the wall, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked. You crossed your arms and took a small sip from your cup.

“Anything, Tesoro.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” you said. “Why me? What about me has struck your little group’s fancy the last few weeks? You never acknowledged me before, but suddenly, you’re interested in making my day a living nightmare.”

“It’s not that; maybe we just like picking on you…”

“How does that make it sound any better?” you asked.

“I think we both know that half of the Hogwarts student body would love to be picked on by me,” he shrugged.

His confidence was a thing of admiration—you had to give him that. He seemed to know exactly what to say to keep everybody on his side at all times. Perhaps it was the charm or the family or something else, but everyone seemed to love Theodore Nott, no matter how incredibly irritating he could be.

It didn’t matter if he and his friends were picking on you for the last couple of weeks. It didn’t matter how many times you’d asked them to stop. It didn’t matter what they did to other people because they were young, attractive, white guys. You’d just happened to, unfortunately, fall onto their radar.

“You’re a cocky motherfucker, aren’t you?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Always, baby,” he said, smiling widely. “Looks like you’ll be late for class if we keep hanging around here.”

“How do you know if I’m going to be late for class? I’m perfectly comfortable sitting here for as long as I have to if it gets you to leave me the hell alone.”

Obviously, that wasn’t entirely true, as your second period started in a few minutes, and you needed to be there. But, at this point, your pride and your distaste for the boy before you had you staying in place.

“Hope you like chicken.”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the elves in the kitchens told me that we were having chicken for dinner. I was saying that I hoped you liked chicken because we’ll be standing here until dinner is served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Not really. I don’t think you understand how willing I am to stick around until you let me follow you.”

“You’re not following me, Theo.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t fucking like you,” you scoffed, in disbelief that he couldn’t possibly understand why you didn’t want to be around him.

“Ouch, that hurt,” he mock-frowned, pretending to wipe a tear away from his cheek. “Also, how do you know you don’t like me? We’ve never hung out.”

“Exactly! We’ve never hung out, and for some reason, you think it’s okay to harass me everyday!”

Your voice had begun to raise slightly with every stupid expression he flashed your way. He was trying to get on your nerves.

“But, maybe that’s my way of getting your attention,” he suggested. You were fuming.

“Getting my—? What the hell are you talking about?”

He parted his lips to answer, but the anger flashing through your body didn’t want to hear any explanation of his.

“Wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t fucking care.”

“I think you’ll be interested in the answer.”

“I highly doubt it.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and took a deep breath, trying to repress the rage filling in your chest. You didn't care for any explanation he could have for you—all you had ever wanted to do was keep to yourself and enjoy your time at the most incredible school on earth.

But, for some reason, you had not been granted that for nearly a month.

What was worse was you genuinely didn’t understand why you were the target, and he’d yet to answer that, other than with whatever game he was currently playing.

You hadn’t gotten to enjoy your coffee, you were missing class, and—wait a minute. You looked back up at him. Why the hell were you even still here? You could just leave.

Theo’s eyebrows furrowed, and his head cocked slightly at the expression printed on your face.

It seemed he was trying to understand what realization had passed across your mind.

Your fingers tightened around your mug, and with your free hand, you quickly covered the top and—with a held breath—Disapparated.

There were swishing sounds all around you as if you were being pushed through a vacuum of sorts. You could feel your hair tickling against your forehead, and the coffee in your mug swishing against your makeshift hand lid, and something gripped tightly around your ankle.

The force of the process kept your head pinned upward so you could not see what was hanging around you. You just hoped it wasn’t Theo. If he had the audacity to come with you while you were trying to get away as quickly as possible, he had another thing coming. He needed to learn some boundaries.

You stopped suddenly. The whooshing and the coffee against your hand were still again.

You stood on the balcony of the astronomy tower. There were no classes during the day, and the professor rarely stayed in the tower past class hours.

You’d come to learn this the hard way when you had initially been practicing Disapparation.

You had been trying to pop up lakeside along the Black Lake and had ended up dangling on the wrong side of the guardrail.

It had been an unfortunate experience, but it had allowed you to find a space where you could enjoy studying or peace and quiet while having the gorgeous view of the campus spread out before you.

This time around, however, the view of the campus was not your focus. You turned and saw Theo standing just behind you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shrieked, stomping over to him and pressing a rough shove to his chest. He stumbled backward slightly before catching himself against one of the student tables.

“I said I wanted to be alone! I’m tired of being followed and picked on. You’re pathetic and so selfish! I just want you to leave me alone, and if you don’t after this fucking warning, I’ll go to the Headmaster!”

He didn’t say anything; he just watched your heated vent.

“I swear to Merlin, Theodore Nott, if you bother me again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He smirked ever so slightly. Just a tiny quirk of his lip in the upper left corner. That was it.

You screamed in frustration. “What the fuck do you want? What do I have to do to get it through your thick fucking skull? I want you to leave me alone! Do I need to hit you? Because I fucking will! Do I need to punch you, throw a drink on you, fucking kiss you? I mean, what is it that I need to do?”

Your cheeks were fiery and flushed, and you felt that you were close to tears, but still, Theo stood still, just watching and listening.

“Fuck—” Without thinking, you grabbed either side of his face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. It lasted only a second before you pulled away, in utter disbelief with yourself.

Theo’s eyes widened, and his breaths came out in heavy pants. You knew you probably looked the same.

“Uh, I-I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I don’t know why I did that.”

There were a few moments of silence where the two of you seemed to be just glancing between the floor and each other. In reality, it was only a second or two, but in your head, it felt like hours.

Those seconds only filled the space between you for a breeze before Theo walked back over to you and mimicked your actions from earlier.

You grunted on impact at the sheer force he’d planted his lips on yours. Panicked, you shoved him away from you.

You figured you now looked precisely as he had when you’d kissed him. A second passed.

Then you were both reaching for each other, grasping at any and everything, and exchanging tastes between the others’ lips.

Your hands curled roughly into his hair, and his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back, pulling you as close as you would go.

His lips were soft but demanding, claiming exactly what he wanted and trying to force yours down into submission, but you refused. The sheer heat of your anger that had very quickly shapeshifted into lust seemed to push some adrenaline-filled strength into your body.

There was no way this jerk would force you to do anything.

You walked into him, forcing him back against the student table, where he sat against the edge of it. He pulled you in between his legs with a force like no other, never separating his lips from yours.

In response to your shove, he bit down on your bottom lip hard.

“Fuck, you’re such a dick,” you murmured in between kisses. You could taste a hint of blood spilling between your lips from his bite.

“I know,” he whispered against you.

You sucked in a breath and pulled away from him, stepping back just a bit.

“I don’t understand what’s happening…,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Me neither, really,” he shrugged. “I was teasing you because I wanted you.”

You stared up at him with widened eyes. “You mean like—?”

“What else could I possibly mean?” he deadpanned.

“Shut up. I was just trying to make sure. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Me neither. I’m usually pretty straightforward when I ask for what I want.”

“So, why was I any different?” you asked.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t as easy to talk directly to you.”

“But it was easy to pick on me?”

He shrugged and looked down to the floor. It seemed like he was a bit disappointed in himself, even after you’d been begging for him to stop for so long. Now that he was quiet and seemingly upset, you almost missed his mean quips and charming confidence.

“I’m sorry I made you upset. I wasn’t trying to,” he said. “I was trying to make you like me back. I don’t usually ‘flirt.’”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you snorted. “I just wish you would have talked to me. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you—I couldn’t understand why you were suddenly being mean to me.”

“You had a crush on me?” he asked, eyebrows quirking up.

“Of course I did. You’re Theo Nott—everyone has a crush on you.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

He smirked just a bit, pride spreading across his face.

“Don’t take it so personally—it was just a little crush,” you laughed.

“No offense, but there’s no way I’m not taking this personally. I’ve wanted you since I first noticed you.”

You looked back up at him. His eyes were focused right on you, though they had switched from a kind of understanding to a flame of desire and ownership. You felt almost claimed.

Merlin, it was easy to see why so many people were so eager to be with him. The way he looked at you felt as if you were being devoured alive.

You swallowed thickly.

“I—”

“Do you want to go to my room?” he interrupted.

Well, shit. Wasn’t the whole point of the original conversation to get yourself as far away from him as possible? You’d already failed on that front, considering you’d just been sucking faces with him, but maybe you could drop this right now? You didn’t have to keep this up. He would probably play you until he was bored, just like everyone else. Fuck.

You bit your lip decidedly and nodded, accepting his outstretched hand.

- - -

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