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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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friday, i'm in love (eddie munson x reader)

summary: one of these days, you'll talk to the cute boy at your coffee shop. just... not today. (wc: 6.3k+)

order up! i've got one cup of sunshine for @munson-blurbs ♡

Today’s the day.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your bag as it digs into your shoulder.

Today’s the day.

You pull the door open for your local Starbucks, your preferred study date destination.

Today’s the day.

You smile at one of the other regulars, a kind and older gentleman named Jim. If you focus on Jim, your eyes won’t avert to him.

Today’s the day.

You already know he’s here. You delude yourself into believing you can specifically hear the scratch of his pencil on paper, that every click of a mouse or clack of a keyboard is coming from his laptop. Hell, maybe if you closed your eyes, you’d convince yourself the music humming over the shop’s speakers is actually the muffled tone warbling out of his headphones.

Today’s the day.

You order one of your normal drinks, one brimming with caffeine and drowning in enough sweet caramel drizzle to give you instantaneous cavities. It doesn’t matter – today’s meant to be a sweet day. The weather’s nice, nothing like it was last week when you’d been ordering a hot Earl Grey tea sweetened with honey each day, and you tell the young man taking your order that it’ll be iced.

He’s new. You have no doubt in your mind, because he wasn’t here last week, and one of the baristas you do recognize is hovering to the side as he rings you out.

You’re a creature of habit. All the baristas know you well, other regulars (see: Jim) even recognize you these days. You used to only come in once or twice a week, either to cram for tests or play a morbid game of catchup with all your homework, but something changed in the last two months.

He showed up in the last two months.

Today’s… not the day.

You turn with your overly sweet drink in hand only to be met with sore disappointment. You were right, he is here, already seated at his usual table.

And he’s joined by a girl and boy you’ve never seen before, but he surely has, by the way he’s all smiles and laughter focused directly at the pair.

You try to not let your stomach drop too low, to catch it before it hits the ground and gathers any unwanted attention your way. It’s fine, it’s okay, it’s good – today wasn’t the day, but maybe tomorrow will be. Maybe tomorrow can finally be the day you speak to the boy from the coffee shop who’s overrun your thoughts one day at a time, the boy you see every day like clockwork, the boy you’ve never exchanged a single word with.

“Dingus, you can’t just say that to a girl!” the girl seated in front of him, her back to you, yells as she smacks Dingus on the chest.

Your coffeeshop boy only cackles in delight, and you feel as if the sunshine that has broken through the cloud cover outside has wormed its way into your veins. His laugh is brilliant and warming as it echoes in your chest, and you try to remind your beating heart that it isn’t yours to keep. That doesn’t stop your arteries and veins from wrapping their way around the sound and thrumming to match its pace. It doesn’t stop your ribs from trying to hopelessly capture the sunshine. Maybe one day you’ll make him laugh like that, maybe one day you’ll find the nerve to strike a conversation with him.

Tomorrow has to be the day, since this sunny Monday hasn’t been.

—

Tuesday also isn’t the day.

You don’t even have a good excuse this time. He’s alone today, just as he usually is. His headphones are already in once you’ve arrived and you can hear tinny guitar solos blaring out of them from across the room. You almost convince yourself that that’s a good reason to approach him, to tap his shoulder and let him know how listening to music that loudly can permanently damage your eardrums, y’know?

But then you realized how prissy that made you sound. If you did that, you’re sure Chrissy, one of your favorite baristas here, would absolutely taunt you for days on end, probably making jabs about you being a grandma, going the full mile and offering you a senior discount just for shit and giggles.

So you stay seated. And you meet the peculiar look of Chrissy as she watches you and Eddie, the only two customers in the lobby this time of afternoon, as if she’s waiting for something to happen. Anything. The raise of her eyebrows serves as a painful prodding in your side as if to say “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on.”

You don’t go on. And that’s the issue – for the last two months, you have let the idea of some stranger completely occupy every thought you have to spare without even knowing his name. He was just always here; two months ago, your once quaint and nice study spot was infiltrated by wild curls and drumming fingers, plush pink lips that could make the older ladies that pass through absolutely swoon with a simple smirk and hello. You’d talked the ear off of all your friends for nearly an hour the day he’d worn grey sweatpants in rather than his normal ripped jeans. You’d caught yourself staring intently at the various rings that decorate his left hand on more than one occasion, trying to make out what the various symbols of silver were.

“This is getting painful to watch.”

You hadn’t even noticed Chrissy round the counter and head over to your table with a cloth in hand until she was looking down at you with a soft, childish pout and her big blue eyes framed with furrowed brows.

“What?” you question, putting down the pen you’d been clicking on and off for the last ten minutes, making no move to properly revise and submit the essay lighting up the screen of your laptop.

Chrissy keeps her voice low, moving to lean down closer to you under the guise of wiping the table beside yours, “The two of you. It’s painful, babe. One of you has to stop making eyes and make the first real move eventually.”

Real. A word you had cursed over a glass of wine with your roommate last night.

She’d pointed out the way you only liked the idea of your coffee shop boy thus far, how you had yet to introduce yourself to the real him. Which, she was right, of course. It was easiest this way; from a distance, he can be anything you want. He could be your easy Sunday mornings, sleepy smiles over toast and coffee made at home. He could be your tired Thursday evenings, coming straight home from whatever class or shift had wreaked havoc on your mind and right into his arms, popcorn and a movie already waiting for you to decompress over as you told him about your day. He could be a source of comfort on cold nights, a breath of fresh air on warmer mornings. He could be anything, as long as he continued to be just your coffee shop boy. A fruitless crush you’d always observe from across a bustling lobby. Keeping him at an arm’s length kept both of you safe: from disappointment, from complications, from reality.

“Just because we both come in everyday to use your free wifi and drink your mediocre coffee, doesn’t mean you get to play match-maker when you’re bored,” you try to keep a straight face as you say this, forcing a look of disinterest as Chrissy stares you down.

Normally, this would be the part where you’d snap at Chrissy that if she was so piqued in her interest with your coffeeshop boy, she could ask him out herself. But he wasn’t Chrissy’s type – the round enamel pin on her apron with a faded, baby pink background, multiple cats stacked on top of one another in different shades of pink, orange, and white, told you as much. The heart eyes she’d made at the girl that had been here with him the day before confirmed it.

“Don’t be so pissy,” Chrissy teases, “Or I’ll revoke wifi privileges.”

“You don’t scare me, Chris.”

“I should.”

“You’re all bark, no bite,” you scoff, a bit louder than before, and don’t even notice your boy subtly taking one of his earbuds out, fighting to keep his eyes down to the page he’s scribbling on rather than glancing up at your interaction, “And I use bark sparingly, considering your bubblegum pink aesthetic doesn’t exactly scream scary dog.”

Chrissy grins wider at your words – you’ve never backed down from being brazen with your humor against her. You don’t treat her grossly delicate or thickly lay on fake niceties. You’re genuine. It’s probably a contributing factor to you being her favorite regular.

He snorts, and you just barely catch the echo of the sound, making both you and Chrissy glance in his direction.

His eyes are glued on his notebook as a blush begins to spread up his neck. You can’t help the shy smile that urges the corners of your mouth upwards.

Talk to him, Chrissy mouths obnoxiously as she grabs her rag, taking slow and exaggerated steps backwards before she spins, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she speed-walks back behind the counter.

One day, you’ll talk to him. Soon.

—

Soon comes too soon. Far too soon and far too embarrassing of circumstances.

One moment, your eyes are glued to the statistics textbook in front of you, laptop set off to the side with your headphones connected in and a study playlist queued up on Spotify. The next, someone’s frappucino is spilling across the pages of numbers and percentages, making you gasp and jump back to no avail. The damage is done – your book is ruined, the front of your shirt is soaked, and all of your handwritten notes are now soggy and unreadable.

“Oh, shit!” the poor kid who had been the culprit stands before you, stunned and red with embarrassment as his friends quiet their cackling from behind him. It’s clear the group had been rough-housing, and that’s what led to this accident.

You zero in on a melting glob of whipped cream that settles into the open spine of the textbook, mouth falling agape as tears fill your eyes immediately.

Shit. No. No, no, no. This was a rental.

None of the younger boys are the one to make a move to help you. The baristas don’t stand a chance, delayed in even noticing the commotion. You’re a statue of bleary vision and panicking breaths as you realize the sticky mess is everywhere, including your laptop.

Your coffeeshop boy notices immediately. He’d noticed the moment the young boy had lost his balance beside you, was already scooting out his chair and jumping up before the blended coffee had even made contact with your table.

You come to your senses right around the time he’s at your side, a fistful of napkins, uselessly attempting to save your textbook that was already clearly ruined.

“Ah, fuck,” he whispers as he uses up all the napkins he’d managed to snag, looking up wildly at you, eyes zeroing in on the mess on the front of your shirt. You can’t even relish in the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice so closely; you’re mortified and trembling, still unsure of whether you’re more angry about your textbook, your laptop, or your shirt, “Hey, you okay?”

Tears. There’s tears streaming down your face, hot with embarrassment and anger and defeat. You think the kid whose drink is now in your lap has been apologizing, but you pay him no mind.

“Go get cleaned up,” the coffeeshop boy immediately moves out of the way, motioning you out of your seat, towards the bathrooms, “I’ll watch your stuff, try to clean it up some, too.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re up in an instant, ignoring the stares of the baristas and the other boys, racing to the back corner of the shop where the two single-person bathrooms reside. You rush into one blindly, trying to calm your erratic heart and the impending panic attack.

It takes you twelve minutes to do so. Three splashes of cool water to the face, two pep talks about how it “wasn’t that bad”, and another whole minute of blankly staring into the mirror at the baby-hairs that frame your face that are now wet and plastered to your cheeks and forehead alike, just wondering where you’ll come up with the money for your damaged textbook.

And laptop. It also got on your laptop, son of a bitch.

You also have to come to terms with the fact that you’d burst into silent tears in the middle of your favorite coffee shop. In front of your coffee shop fantasy crush. You may never recover from that embarrassment, if you’re being honest with yourself.

A small knock comes from the door of the bathroom, forcing you to sigh deeply before gathering up all your composure and broken pride.

“Yeah?” you ask through the crack, hardly opening the door.

It’s Chrissy, standing wide-eyed and hopelessly holding two pieces of clothing in her hand, “Okay, so uh, we don’t have any spare shirts here. But… But I have a spare apron? And a spare jacket? I’m sorry, these are awful options.”

“I…” I’d rather die than wear that apron, or ruin someone’s jacket. “It’s fine, Chris. I’ll probably get going anyways.”

“But your shirt is all-” she pauses, and you could burst into tears all over again at the way she scrunches her nose so adorably, “-sticky.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll get all over your car.”

“It’s already all over my stuff. Might as well go big or go home.”

“I owe you a free coffee now, you know that?” Chrissy’s shoulders finally deflate in defeat, accepting your stubbornness as the winning contender, “Next time you come in, probably tomorrow. Whatever you want. It’s on the house, I sw-”

“Damn, now I wish some twerp spilled their mocha cookie whatever all over me,” it’s him – your coffee shop boy. A boy who came to your rescue, a boy who lives in all your bedtime fantasies, and a boy whose name you still don’t know. Chrissy turns and the two of you both look at him, you opening the bathroom door wider despite your embarrassment. He immediately throws up a hand in surrender, “Sorry, I’m, uh- shit, I’m interrupting. But I just… Uh, well. Okay, this is weird. Really weird. You can ban me if this is too weird,” he turns to Chrissy with wide brown eyes, making her immediately cross her arms across her chest defensively, “Seriously, okay? Say the word, I’ll accept my banishment. I just-”

“What’s behind your back?” Chrissy narrows her eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the boy hiding something, too busy being enamored by his stumbling words and adorable blush. Fuck. You hated it; you hated the fact that everyone was right, and the real him was even more adorable than you could have anticipated.

He brings his arm out from behind him, and when you see what’s in his clutches, you nearly scream in frustration.

He’s not just more adorable than the fantasized versions of him you’ve created – he’s more thoughtful, too. It spells out trouble for you and your restless, irrevocably romantic heart.

“I keep spare shirts in my van,” he explains sheepishly, “I swear it’s clean. It’s for- well, I… It’s for ‘just in case’ situations. Sort of like this one, I guess.”

Chrissy is quick to take it from him, passing it along to you as she keeps staring him down, “How convenient.”

“Very,” he nearly cowers under her stare, swallowing hard before turning to you, “You don’t have to give it back or anything. You can even burn it, for all I care. It’s just some shirt for… for, uh, some shitty band.”

You don’t think too much about the comment, just shut the door and leave Chris alone with the coffeeshop boy, silently praying she doesn’t tear into him unnecessarily after the act of kindness. You change shirts, dabbing at your chest with wet paper towels between peeling off your coffee-stained blouse and switching it for your coffeeshop boy’s shirt.

Corroded Coffin. It’s not a band you recognize, as you read out the jagged writing of the logo across the front of the black t-shirt. The white font pops and you’re already trying to think of an easy segue into maybe discussing whoever this ‘shitty band’ is with coffeeshop boy rather than the mortifying disaster you’d just endured from a group of young teenage boys who knew no better.

But when you leave the bathroom, that group of scoundrels is gone, along with coffeeshop boy. Chrissy wears an apologetic look over the shoulder of a customer she’s taking the order of at the front counter. It does nothing to wear on the sinking feeling of disappointment in your gut, that deflation at realizing he didn’t wait around for you. The customer pays and leaves the counter, and Chrissy almost looks to be expecting you to stop and say something, but you don’t.

You don’t say a single word. Only rush and gather your things off the table, which are surprisingly clean. Coffeeshop boy did a good job.

Too bad you don’t have the chance to tell him.

Reality, you decide, has something in common with the coffee; it’s always going to end with a bitter bite, no matter how much sweetness you suffocate it with.

—

You don’t return for several days after Wednesday’s incident. Thursday turns to Friday, Friday bleeds into Saturday, and by the time Sunday rears its ugly head, you’re still wallowing in self-pity. Embarrassment has a way of sinking deep into your bones, and no amount of curling up in the center of your bed will make it fade. You try to sit up at your desk and finish some of the revisions you’d been working on that awful day before wearing some kid’s frappucino, but you can’t focus. The pages of your rental textbook are still sticky, your S and K keys now only work half the time, and you can’t find the right study playlist. The atmosphere is wrong, the vibe is wrong, everything is just wrong.

At least you hadn’t resorted to wearing Coffeshop Boy’s shirt. You’d thought about it, of course, but you hadn’t hit that low of a point. Not yet, at least.

Your roommate can’t take it. She insists you get out of the house, simply because your moping is “too fucking sad” to witness. To which you obviously had to retort, “how do you think I feel?”.

So now you’ve been standing outside of your usual Starbucks for five minutes. Squinting like a weirdo through the large, front windows, trying to make out if he was there. Or maybe the ‘twerp’ who had spilled the frappucino. You weren’t looking for a fight – you just needed to avoid every individual who had witnessed the most embarrassing day of your life to date.

“He’s not here,” a voice suddenly says from behind you. You jump a fraction before spinning and catching sight of one of those damn witnesses: Chrissy, “He never comes in on Sundays. You don’t, either, by the way. What gives?”

“I’ve come in on Sundays before,” you deflect.

Chrissy laughs, shaking her head, brushing past you with her green apron rolled up into one of her fists, “No, you haven’t. So I’ll ask again,” she pauses, opening one of the front doors and motioning for you to enter first, “What gives?”

Your feet drag as you walk past her, the lobby eerily quiet. At the very least, she’s right – there’s no sign of your coffeeshop boy. Just some old dude with a newspaper in your usual corner, and a girl with a laptop, seemingly in some sort of video meeting, in coffeeshop boy’s usual spot.

“No hidden romance there, unfortunately,” Chrissy notices your staring and waves between the patrons. Neither so much as look up, “You and Eddie are our store’s only modern Romeo and Juliet.”

“Who?”

“Eddie,” she repeats, watching the realization spread across your face. A smirk appears on her glossy lips as she clarifies anyways, “Your knight-in-shining-armor. The boy you’ve been making heart eyes at for weeks. The dude of your dreams-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut her off, cheeks already warming as you glance again to the girl and the old man. Still no reaction. Your mortification today, it seems, has no audience.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

The name thrums through your chest, excitement and a twinge of guilt racing through your veins.

Your coffeeshop boy’s name is Eddie.

“I never knew his name,” you whisper quietly, catching yourself staring in the occupied seat that is usually his. “I… Have you known it this entire time?”

Chrissy shakes her head, “No, I asked him Thursday. You know, the first day of your disappearance.”

You can’t even process her slight jab at you, or the way she tilts her chin as she waits for a reaction. You’re too busy thinking about Eddie. Eddie, who doesn’t come here on Sundays. Eddie, who keeps spare t-shirts in his van– Eddie, who drives a goddamn van.

He’s suddenly tangible. It’s dizzying.

“He asked about you, y’know,” Chrissy’s voice is low and you finally glance back to her, “On Thursday. And Friday. He asked about you.”

Eddie, who you’ve been waiting for the day to introduce yourself to. Eddie, who asked about you.

“What’d he ask? Specifically?” you question, taking a deep breath and trying to clear your thoughts.

“If you’d been in, if I’d seen you. He even asked for your name.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Nope,” she grins, blue eyes sparkling, “I figured I’d give you the honor.”

It’s on Sunday that you decide the next day you see coffeshop boy, that you see Eddie, it will be the day. It’s only fair that he knows your name now that you know his, after all.

—

Monday isn’t the day, and neither is Tuesday. You show up to the Starbucks, you take your usual spot, you spend hours studying – Eddie never shows up. Wednesday and Thursday aren’t the days either, filled with finals and celebratory dinners at twenty-four hour diners with friends.

By Friday, you’re missing your coffeeshop romance terribly.

But Friday, as it turns out, isn’t quite as unlucky as the rest of the week. You wake up that morning, and you can feel it in your bones; today’s the day. You’ll see Eddie today. You’ll introduce yourself to Eddie today, without a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappucino soaking your shirt. It’s an acknowledge truth in your bones, maybe even in the stars. Everything is aligning, and you were going to stop spending your days with your head in the clouds. Maybe it would fizz out, and the crush that had kept you on the edge of your seat, that had kept you mildly entertained for months would lead to nothing. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a beginning. A leap of faith into reality that could turn into something real.

When you first show up, you don’t see him. It’s during the tail-end of the morning rush that you make your way in, ordering your usual iced coffee and taking your usual seat with the perfect view of Eddie’s usual seat. Customers filter in and out, a line occasionally forming before the baristas take care of it quickly, but not a single person is the one you’re looking for.

You distract yourself. You busy yourself with pulling out your laptop, glancing over whichever grades have been finalized, pondering over the ones that have yet to be set in stone. Once you’ve beat that horse to death and have nothing left but scholarly anxiety bubbling up, you’ve moved on to making a spreadsheet of all the books you want to read during the summer, with all the free hours you definitely weren’t going to waste, and would totally make use of. You even color code by genre.

You think you have more fun making the spreadsheet than you will enjoy the actual reading over the novels you listed.

Just as you’ve finished your iced coffee, ready to move onto looking at goddamn Yahoo news to entertain yourself, a cup is sat down in front of you. A hot grande cup.

You read the sticker turned towards you before you even spare a glance to the person who’d sat down the drink: a grande Earl Grey tea, sweetened with one packet of honey.

“Chrissy, I only get this when it’s rain-” you start, assuming the barista would be the one standing over your table. It isn’t. It’s coffeeshop boy – it’s Eddie. You can’t help the curse that falls from your lips, “Oh, shit.”

“Sorry,” he bites his lip as if holding back a life, hands nervously shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocks on his heels, “I just… I honestly don’t know what you usually get. But your cup was empty when I walked in, and the one time I got here before you, this was the drink you got, but now that I think about it, it was raining that day and that didn’t even cross my mind-”

Your smile is slow as it uncurls, so saccharine and so enamored as you finally cut off his rambling, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look reassured in the slightest, paling as he stutters out, “Oh, God. I- I’m a creep for remembering that, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice because I know Thursday was so rough-” he cuts off at your subtle wince at the reminder of that entire tragedy, “Sorry. God, how many times can I say sorry, am I right?”

Eddie, who is absolutely fumbling over rambles like a fool when he approaches you to talk to you first. Eddie, who is quickly shaping up to be better than even your wildest dreams.

“First of all,” you start, nervously making eye contact, trying to calm your nerves by reminding yourself he’s an even bigger mess than you right now, “You’re not a creep for remembering that. That’s… it’s really thoughtful, actually,” he breaks out into a restrained smile, the smallest glimpse of relief on his face, so you continue, “And second of all… I mean, who knows? Maybe it’ll rain and you saved me some trouble.”

He lets out a bark of laughter at that, and immediately, all frozen awkwardness around the moment shatters. Whatever pedestal you’d set the boy on the last several weeks has crumbled with ease. Reality comes crashing down, and you relish in it.

You relish in the golden streaks through his messy curls, and you drown in the richness of his brown eyes, entrancing this close up. You relish in that dimple in his right cheek, deep enough to swallow you whole as he recollects himself. You relish in the fact that he’s here, it’s Friday, and today is the day.

“There is absolutely rain on the forecast, and you should absolutely just take my word for that and not fact check me,” he jokingly replies, “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I know,” you blurt out with thinking, and immediately regret it. You can’t tell if the shock on his face is laced with amusement or not and you panic, desperate to defend yourself, “I- Chrissy told me, I swear. I’m sorry, that was weird, I just-”

He’s the one interrupting apologies now, “It’s okay. Can’t be weirder than knowing a stranger’s rainy day coffee order.”

Grinning. God, you can’t stop grinning, even as you breathe out your name.

“Sorry?” he asks with furrowed brows, hardly catching on to the whispered reveal.

“That’s my name,” you explain before repeating yourself. His cheeks undoubtedly ache the same way yours do, “Now I’m not a stranger. Makes it less weird.”

His smile is downright radiant, and oh, God what you’d given to hear him murmur your name under his breath again in that odd, peculiar manner he just did. As if he’s trying it out, tasting it on his tongue and deciding if it’s worth repeating.

His eyes shine; you have a feeling you will be hearing it again.

“Say, is this seat taken?”

You assume he’s meaning the chair across from you, tucked neatly into the table covered in your belongings, and you immediately shake your head to tell him it’s not, motioning for him to join you.

He wasn’t meaning the chair. He flops himself down beside you on the bench seating, settling into the plastic plush as his thighs brush against yours.

“So,” he starts, propping his elbow up on the table beside your laptop, resting his chin on his fist,“Tell me about yourself, not-stranger.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he answers, making your heart clench, “But maybe, let’s just start with your coffee order for days that aren’t rainy.”

Hours. You and Eddie spend hours talking. The baristas behind the counter rotate, the sun eventually sets, and you don’t even notice when clouds form and light spatters of rain spit out onto the sidewalk outside. You dive headfirst into reality with Eddie, and it’s like the first breath of Spring.

He wakes you up in a way no shot of espresso ever could. It’s as if something deep inside of you had been sleeping for so long, you’d forgotten it existed until he magically awoke it. Something shining, something wonderful, something new. Something real.

Everyone was right. The tangible Eddie is infinitely better than the idea of coffeeshop boy.

“You know,” you’ve drained your earl grey, laptop long since closed as your body mirrors Eddie’s and twists until your kneecaps press against each other. His arm rests casually along the back of the seat just over your right shoulder, “I’m still curious who Corroded Coffin is. I know you said they’re shitty, but-”

“Oh, God,” Eddie throws his head back in laughter, running his free hand over his face, “So, uh, funny story.”

You quirk an eyebrow, “Funny story?”

“Yes. Hilarious, actually,” he affirms, “Corroded Coffin is… uh, well… Corroded Coffin is my band.”

You can’t stop the snort, realization dawning on you. That’s why Eddie had the spare shirt in his van – it’s his own damn merch.

“I’m going to pretend you’re laughing with me, not at me,” he hums, leaning back and watching your giggles continue to hit you in waves.

“I am-” you start to reassure, broken off by another gasping laugh that even has him chuckling along, “I am, I swear! I just… Why would you tell me you guys are shitty?”

“A bad joke,” he hums, waving his free hand, chuckles still lingering at the edge of his tone, “I tend to tell a lot of those around pretty people.”

Pretty people. He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah?” you choke out, laughter abruptly fading as the realization hits you.

He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah.”

Oh, God. He thinks you’re pretty. He’s in a band. He remembered the drink you got on a rainy day ages ago (him forgetting the rainy detail can be forgiven because he remembered without even knowing your name). He smells like spice, like everything kind and gentle and warm. It mixes so well with the smell of the coffee already in the air, you wouldn’t have noticed it was his cologne unless you hadn’t spent a better part of the hour leaning in closer and closer to him, the scent getting stronger and stronger.

Maybe reality can be sweet. Maybe it’s not always bitter.

“You know, we have a show coming up,” he continues on, tilting his head at you curiously, “Tomorrow night, actually.”

“You do?” you ask dumbly, not catching on, not yet.

He nods, the corners of his lips curling up, “Yeah. It’s at this venue not far from here, a small bar. It’s not much but it’s an upgrade from where we started…” he trails off, eyes diverting to the wall behind you and across the store, “Uh, you obviously don’t have to… but, I mean, if you’re not busy, I could always add your name to the guest list. It’s no pressure, obviously! I mean, you don’t have to go, it’s just an id-”

“I’d love to,” you stop him with a hand on his knee, grounding him from the returning rambling, “Tell me when and where tomorrow night, and I’ll be there.”

Your heart might just burst.

“Right,” he seems to still entirely beneath your touch, eyes darting down to where your hand rests, “Yeah. I can write it down for you-”

“Or I could give you my number.”

“Or you could give me your number.”

You’re both grinning, blushing fools. He takes a second, just staring at you, seemingly in awe, before you have to remove your hand from his knee and put your palm up as a signal for him to hand over his phone.

He nearly drops it in his flurry to get it into your waiting hand, bouncing his knee the entire time it takes you to put in your contact information. You make a point to add a coffee cup emoji after your name.

“Hey, guys,” the two of you are suddenly interrupted just as you’re giving his phone back. It’s the barista from last Monday – the new one, the one who’d taken your order when you’d been convinced that would be the day you were going to speak to Eddie. Funny how clueless you had been at the time, “Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to let you guys know that we close in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie gasps, sitting up straight as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, “Sorry, man. We’re heading out.”

The new guy’s eyes light up ever so slightly, shrugging off the apology and just nodding with a polite smile.

You wonder if you’ll even get the chance to break the news to Chrissy. Something tells you she’ll be finding out before you see her again.

The boy retreats, and you’re quick to grab your laptop and move to shove it into your bag. Eddie stands and waits, unbothered and encouraging you to take your time before you swing the heavy bag over your shoulder.

Eddie, the boy who’s show you’ll be going to. Eddie, the boy who now has your number.

You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of his name echoing through your mind.

“Thank you again,by the way,” you say as you pick up that empty grande cup, turning for the trash, “The tea was good, even though-”

It’s raining. It’s steadily sprinkling outside, trees shifting with a gentle and stormy breeze. You can tell easily, even with the darkness of the evening having fallen. There’s rogue raindrops racing their ways down the window in front of you. Your reflection stares back faintly, and over your shoulder, you can see Eddie smile shyly.

“It’s raining,” you murmur.

“I told you,” Eddie says softly, “It was on the forecast. Also, I might have noticed the clouds building up on the drive over.”

You turn to face him slowly, heart thumping against your ribs, “Did you… You knew it was my rainy day drink, didn’t you?”

He blinks once, twice, before swallowing hard and nodding, “I did.”

“How?”

“I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did hear them call it out that one time. Also, you always have a hot drink especially when it’s raining.”

He looks like he might pass out from embarrassment, but you just let a grin overtake your features, “Oh?”

“Like I said, it’s creepy. Do I need to apologize again? I can apologize again.”

Oh, your grin grows.

“What else did you notice?”

“Excuse me?”

You shrug, “What else did you notice about me? For example, I’ve always noticed your rings. Also, you listen to your music far too loudly. You’re gonna go deaf one of these days, you know.”

He melts, color returning back to his features as he realizes you’re not upset or creeped out, “You noticed me before the other day?”

“I did,” you try to downplay it, keep an even tone as your heart screams, “And it sounds like you noticed me too.”

A boyish grin and two steps forward, he’s approaching you and evading your space with that warm smell of spice once more.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, ears and bridge of his nose alike tinged in a spackling of pink, “I noticed the faces you made whenever you’d work on math homework. And the way you’d cringe every time I turned up my music. And the way Chrissy never stopped teasing you, the same way she’d tease me on the days you weren’t here.”

“Wow,” you sigh, looking back down at that empty cup. That goddamn empty cup that just revealed to you that he thought of you just as you’d thought of him, “We’re idiots.”

That feeling that still rings in your bones. No longer just the feeling that today is the day, but that there’s more good things to come. There are lazy Sunday mornings to be had, relaxing Thursday nights to enjoy. There are tangible things to have and to hold in your future, materializing right out of nonsensical ideas you’d clung to just days before.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs in agreement as you toss the cup into the trash, “Yeah, we’re fuckin’ idiots. Don’t tell Chrissy, capiche?”

Today was the day. Today was just the beginning.

“Capiche.”

It’s not until a month later, when you and Eddie come in together on one of your slow Sunday mornings, that Chrissy gets her I told you so moment. After the shock of seeing her two favorite customers on a Sunday, of course.

#3k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #see? i still write!#proof i'm literate

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undercoverpena · 1 month

Text

in the locker room

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: when you join him for benny's fight, frankie appears stressed. you have an idea to de-stress him.

warnings: TF canon compliant. explicit smut/oral m! receiving. my spellings (written on phone) wordcount: 1.6k

an: dedicated to @rhoorl who I wound up yesterday with this. babe, ily and our thot chats.

Waiting feels like a whispered question in a room of time.

Phone in your palm, glancing as you watch the text change from received to read—smiling, locking it as your grin is caught in the reflection of the screen, illuminated, proof that once again he does this to you. Has this effect on you—makes you a little reckless.

Your nose catches another whiff of the slightly off citrus disinfectant. The ones doing its best to smother over the stench of old sweat and socks. It lingers, attempts to embed itself in your clothes, lets you walk away with the reminder you were here.

A part of you hopes to walk away with something a little more than a reminder. A memory, maybe. Tapping the back of your phone against your palm, nervousness begins to ebb over the adrenaline from sending the message.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting—

BANG.

Leaning against the locker, metal sinking into your bones past clothing and skin, you pocket your phone. Listening to it, the door shutting behind him, his gait in those boots—heels clicking as he rounds the lockers and spots you.

Frankie drinks you in. Does so like a man starved, parched—as though he wasn’t seated beside you moments ago before you excused yourself. Before you made a beeline for a different door that wasn’t the ladies' bathroom.

He's looked at you like he's wanted to devour you since the night you met, and all the nights that have been since. Even if he has, plenty and plenty of times. The look doesn't waver, it doesn't lessen.

Now, it's just embroiled in love, affection, care.

“You alright?”

Nodding, he comes closer—more lines deepening around his brows, eyes; shoulders almost hanging like earrings they’re so high up.

“Querida, what are…”

As soon as you can, you pull him close by his jacket. Brown, worn—cuffs rolled up and suede greet the pads of your fingers as he moves close to you with ease.

Still, Frankie frowns.

Still, he’s weighed down by something, irked by it. Brain totting things off that he won’t share or spill—just offers hollow smiles and barely-there glances.

“You look stressed, baby.”

His jaw ticks, just when your palm cups his cheek—thumb brushing over the patch. The little heart you trace when you can, that your thumb finds when you’re kissing him, when he’s so canting his hips and making you sing.

But, you suspect he’s still not caught on. Not grasped why you’ve sent him a mayday message to meet you in an old, smelling locker room.

“Baby,” you whisper, more sweetly—a slice of sultry to it. Like a cocktail you hope he’ll drown himself in.

Chewing his tongue as he averts his eyes, storing secrets and hiding terrible truths from you. Things you’ll pull from him in time, retrieve. Probably wish you hadn’t, too.

But it’s not why he’s here—not why you want him here.

You don’t want to talk, to find out.

“Wanna make you not stressed.”

Swallowing, you see it shift and feel him freeze. His eyes slide back over you, almost snapping to you as his hands rest on your hips.

“Here?”

Smirking, you tilt your head. Offering nothing, saying nothing.

It’s then you feel Frankie’s hands. Those large, capable and fucking perfect hands sliding around your waist, pushing you flush with the locker and his frame. Little to no space between you. Soft stomach against yours, your thumbs fingering at the suede of his jacket as you stare into his eyes.

“Want you in my mouth, Morales.”

“Jesus, fuck.”

Hands sliding down over the curve of his stomach, eyes not wavering, never leaving, your palm runs over the growing bulge in his jeans as you tell him. As you describe to him how bad you want him, how it’s all you thought about—that having him in your mouth would make your night, your day.

“—so, can I, Morales? Can I suck you off in here?”

“Yeah, baby. Fuck. ‘Course you can.”

The thank you comes out on its own, escapes in a whisper as his head tilts around yours to glance at the door—the sound of cheers echoing down the corridor, leading here, cutting through silence and held breaths.

It’s with ease his belt undoes, clanging and clattering; his jeans open next, zip grating against teeth as you slide it down, pulling the fabric down next—just enough to free his straining cock.

“We gotta be quiet, baby.”

And he snorts, offering a roll of his eyes. Hand taking yours as he helps you descend to your knees—the floor hard, cold as it crawls in past your jeans. But, head level with him, your mouth waters at the sight of him. All of a sudden desperate to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to feel him kiss the back of your throat and coat the back of your teeth in his pleasure.

It’s teasing the way you wrap your fingers around him, lightly pumping, making him groan somewhere deep inside of his chest—a grumble in Spanish, one that makes the corners of your mouth lift as you clear your throat.

“You’ve got such a nice cock, Morales,” you whisper, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the tip—salty tang lingers on your lips when you kneel back. Watching as his hips buck, cock twitching in your hand.

“You want to come in my mouth?”

It’s a murmur, an array of letters merged together to say please as you slide the tip of his cock inside your mouth, your smirking lips closing around it. Hearing it, the hiss from his teeth; but, you pull from him.

Hearing it—the tortured sound that feels like a reward. But the prize is the way he looks a mess already. His lips were already parted, nostrils already slightly flared. That line between his brows gone, something you’re more pleased about than the sounds.

It’s why you lick a stripe up the base, smile at the pained fuck he lets escape. Taking him back into your mouth, fully, no games. Feeling his hand on the back of your head, before his grip tightens as you take more of him, feel him deeper—tears pricking at your eyes as spit begins to soak your chin at your enthusiasm.

Flicking your gaze up, you find his hidden under the shadow of his hat, the angle different—but you know his forehead is smooth. The furrows of whatever had caused them to melt away on your tongue as you taste what you crave. All salty tang and stress, it seeps into your throat as your head bobs and cheeks hollow.

Because it’s a reward to do this for him. To do this to him.

To have him like this, relaxed and yet tense.

“Fuck, y’so good for me.”

The crowd masks over the sinful sounds of your mouth working him. You only lift off to catch your breath, letting the tip trace your swollen lips as you stare up at him, finding him transfixed, unable to see anything but you.

Fingers swipe over your chin, cleaning the spit from it, showing it you glistening on his fingers. “Don’t make a mess.”

The command—you’re sure has ruined your underwear. The same fabric that would provide so much relief if you could angle yourself to gain some friction.

Moaning, you clutch the base of him, mouth close to taking him as you breathe, “I love your cock, Frankie.”

Angling his head in a ‘yeah?’, his words are stolen as you slide him down your throat. Knees shuffling closer, you nudge them against the tips of his cowboy boots, hands around the back of his jeans for leverage. You feel it, the familiar fabric you’ve got in your palm—the one you’ve had chafing on your thighs when you’ve been bare and wanting; the one which you’ve picked up and washed with your clothes.

And it’s that familiarity that makes you moan, makes you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, as you hear him curse in a deeper, more gravel-filled voice.

You love him, love this—love this thing between the two of you that you’ve never had with anyone else. It's like an inferno, consuming, not yielding even as time ticks on between you. There's only trust, understanding—a hard honesty, but the two of you work to keep there every single time.

Then, there's the fact that you know from the sounds he’s making he’s getting close. It makes your skin warm, pussy flutter; it makes you tempted to slot his boot between your thighs and ride him. Especially as you notice the sweat shining on his forehead, it twinkling under the shitty fluorescent lights when he rests his head against the metal behind him.

Fuck, it spurs you on.

That and the taste of him reaching his pinnacle—how it’s stronger, tangier; his moans louder and less reserved.

“Fuckfuckyesqueridafuck—“

The expletives flow freely, not held back or restrained. They practically echo, becoming a song that only your ears get to hear as his hand tightens and you watch his other fist clenched at his side.

Then you feel him at the back of your throat—him filling your mouth. Breaths ragged, pulled from him as you slowly continued to bob, not wanting to waste a drop, to not have everything you could.

You don’t consider moving until he loosens his hold on the back of your head, until his eyes unclench, and you’re washed in soft brown.

He slips himself free from your lips as you swallow, his palm cupping your chin and jaw as he tilts you to look at him.

“You alright?”

Nodding, you trace your thumb over your lip. “You feel better?”

He hums, for a moment looking all at peace as his hand aids you to your feet. You believe him, believe it—the hum. Looking away, for less than a second, allowing him to stuff his softened cock into the confines of his clothes as he redresses.

Then you see it.

The shadow in his eyes, the thing that had been there when you’d made it just for the last round of Benny’s fight. When you’d kissed his cheek and he’d gripped your hand and said he’d missed you—even if he'd seen you this morning.

Breath shaky, you fold your arms loosely. “You need to talk to me when we get home, don’t you?”

Not saying anything, not needing to, he pulls you close, unravels your arms and kisses your forehead.

“I love you, querida.”

“Lo sé, Morales.”

Because you do.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales smut #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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w1ldthoughts · 1 month

Text

Minor Ear-Mergency

Anon Requested

Masterlist

“Are you sure you don’t want to change out of your pjs? You can wear your gameday outfit, I know it’s your favorite.”

The toddler in front of you shakes her head, “no thank you. I want to wear this for the game.”

You shrug, grabbing the black ‘Bolt Up’ lightning rod shirt and blue pants with the #10 iron-on patches on the side. Remi wore these clothes every Sunday…without fail. So today’s answer was a rare occasion to put it lightly, but you didn’t want to push her first thing in the morning so you let her do whatever felt right. You even opted to stay in your pajamas as well, in solidarity of course.

The next time you gave her a funny look was when she barely ate her cheesy eggs and complained of having a headache an hour later. By the time the two of you sat on the couch for kickoff at 1:25 pm California time, she was half asleep. One of her arms was wrapped around you, as best as she could with your belly in the way, while the other one was securely holding on to her stuffed animal.

Even though she barely knew what was going on, she loved watching her dad on tv so you knew something was off. Your continuous suspicions were confirmed with one simple act of placing your hand on her forehead and checking her temperature.

“My ear is hurting me,” her pitiful cries and groans of pain have you on the phone with the pediatrician at the start of the fourth quarter. She gave you little home remedies to try and scheduled Remi for an 11 o’clock appointment the next morning. You could practically hear Justin in your ear lightly scolding you for not having an extra bottle of children’s Motrin in the house, but the universe was secretly on your side because the one in your hand was just enough for a few full servings. Long after the medicine should have kicked in your daughter still had fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, sniffling like she was trying to bite down the sadness.

“Oh sweets, is your ear still bothering you?”

She gently shakes her head no, scared to make any sudden movements in case that would make the pain return. “I need daddy but he’s not here,” she whimpers, leaning on your arm and practically using your sleeve as a tissue.

“I know baby. But he’ll be back tonight and you’ll see him as soon as you wake up,” you sigh, knowing that isn’t what she wants to hear. Feeling like it was your duty as a mom to come up with a solution, you sat there for a minute, running your fingers through her hair until it hit you. “I have an idea,” she stares back at you, her eyes a little wide with anticipation, “I’ll be right back. You stay here.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Remi allowed you to be out of her sight long enough to throw one of Justin’s shirts in the dryer for her to rest her head on, smiling to yourself when she let you know that she still missed her daddy, but this was good enough until she got to see him in the morning. Adding another baby to the chaos was a daunting idea in moments like this where although you loved your husband and this life that the two of you had built, you were alone…a lot. You had to think on your feet alone, a lot. And of course he did everything in his power to be an active parent and husband when he was home but that didn’t change the fact that right now you had a sick child to take care of and he was on the other side of the country getting chased by grown men in tights. That thought had you chuckling to yourself, thinking about two extremes, drowning Remi’s tears and snot or praying that the offensive line would keep him upright for the better part of three hours.

Justin came home later that evening, leaving his shoes by the door and tiptoeing around the house. When you texted him before the flight home that Remi wasn’t feeling well there was a pit in his stomach at the fact that he wasn’t there. He knew you could handle it but that didn’t take away his feeling of being a terrible partner. There is always an upside and a downside to things, especially being a working parent who’s job is more demanding than the average person and you never made him feel bad about it or tried to use it against him. But his mind sometimes allowed him to think of the worst case scenario. He never wanted to miss any moment, not with you and definitely not with Remi and even the little things like an earache made him want to drop everything and fly home. As soon as he passed by the living room to head upstairs, he caught a glimpse of a view that made all the doubt and negative thoughts leave his mind.

There you two were, sprawled out on the couch covered in blankets. NFL network was still on in the background as Remi was curled up into a ball with her mouth slightly open, as close to your body as humanly possible. And even in deep sleep, you held onto her. Justin smiled to himself, taking a mental image as a reminder of how worth it this all is, no matter the sacrifice. He’d rather compromise with you, create this life with you and have a life outside of football than the alternative because this? The view in front of him? That was everything.

And he needed to put a stop to it immediately.

He slowly walks over to the couch, scooping Remi up in his arms and she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes, securing her arms around his neck and sleeping peacefully like nothing happened. As soon as her weight is gone from your orbit you begin to stir, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“Hey there sleepyhead,” he whispers, “let’s go upstairs and get some sleep. The couch isn’t good for your back.”

You yawn, sitting up and already feeling the tightness in your muscles thanks to the increased weight in your front. Justin holds a hand out for you to grab so you can stand up and the three of you head up to your bedroom for some much needed rest.

A mild ear infection. That’s what the pediatrician told you this morning and that she should be fine completely recovered within the week, which was honestly the best case scenario. You texted Justin the news and he let you know that his Monday lift and meetings were done and he’d be home for the rest of the day.

“Can I have lava for lunch please?” Remi asks innocently, holding Justin’s hand. She hadn’t let him out of her sight since she walked in the door and found him standing in the kitchen. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without her standing on the other side of the door.

“Lava?” He mouths at you.

“Tomato soup,” you laugh. “While you feed her I’m gonna head to the store real fast and grab more medicine and a couple other things we might need.” Moments like this didn’t come often, so you had to take advantage of this toddler-free opportunity and get some stuff done before Justin had to go to practice later this week. You headed out quietly, greatly enjoying the sight of Thing One and Thing Two having an intense conversation.

“Oh daddy. Can I have some Gatorade too please?”

Justin narrows his eyes, ready to bargain with the toddler. “How about this, you finish your lava and I’ll give you a little bit of Gatorade. Deal?”

“Otay, I try.”

Less than halfway into her bowl of soup, Remi said she was done. “Are you sure you don’t want to finish it? No lunch means no Gatorade.” He tried coaxing her into taking a few more bites but she just wasn’t having it.

Remi sighs, her cheeks getting a rosy tint that he didn’t like. “Too tired to eat, can I hold you?”

“Of course you can hold me, come here.” He presses his lips to the top of her head, her warm clammy skin letting him know that it’s time for more medicine. Since he couldn’t let her go without some sort of meltdown, he just used one hand to pour the Motrin into a tiny cup and had her drink it.

“That was yucky,” she whines, her voice having a sleepy croak to it. “Can you take a nap with me, pretty please?”

He laughs lightly, peering down at her as he walks to her room. “When you ask so nicely with a sweet face like that, how can I say no?”

With his long legs hanging off the bed, he placed the blanket over her as she nestled herself in the crook of his body. “Daddy?”

Her eyes were closed so he wasn’t sure if she was still awake until she spoke again. “Thank you for staying with me. Yesterday, I missed you but now you’re here and I’m so happy. I miss you when you leave.”

“Do you get sad when I’m gone?” He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear her answer, but he knew he needed the truth. Even though the simple thought of making her sad had him biting back tears.

Remi opens her eyes, her matching green orbs staring into his before she smiles and shakes her head. “Yes. For two minutes I cry but you always come back!” She holds out three fingers to show him and he chuckles, helping her out one finger down. “And you get touchdowns on tv and me and mama high five. I like touchdowns and I like the Chargers. So I not sad daddy, I get happy when you win. Sometimes you lose…but I still love you.”

As hard as he tries, he can’t contain the laughter at his daughter’s football analysis. But she was right, she loved him win or lose and he had to remember that when the guilt set in. “I love you more mini,” he gives her a squeeze, “and I’m always going to come back home, every touchdown is for you and for mama.”

“And baby brother?”

“Of course! Baby brother too.”

She seems satisfied with that answer, closing her eyes again and cozying further into his chest, her steady breaths letting him know she was quickly dozing off.

With her body resting against his chest, he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding since he got home almost 24 hours earlier. Even something as minor as a tiny ear infection worried him. “I’m right here honey, daddy’s not going anywhere.” He was mostly saying that for himself but it still felt good to admit there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The next day when he came home from the facility, he was happy to find Remi getting back to her usual self. “What are you two doing?”

“Making nana bread with…matella.”

“It’s Nutella sweets,” you correct her with a soft laugh.

Remi giggles, “Nu-tella, the best chocolate.”

“That sounds amazing bub,” Justin smiles, giving each of you a kiss on the cheek. Remi immediately drops what she’s doing to give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek in return, “nana bread and daddy at home make me feel lots better.” Remi practically hops out of the man’s arms to go grab her cup of water from the living room.

“She said banana bread before me,” Justin murmurs. “Is that saying something?”

Placing the bread pan in the oven, you laugh softly. “Unfortunately, I think it says everything. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Eh it’s fine. You didn’t even make her top two.”

#Justin Herbert #Justin Herbert x reader #justin herbert imagine #Justin Herbert x you #nfl imagine #justin herbert fanfic

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soobnny · 1 year

Text

when it rains, it pours — lee felix.

trope. established relationship. hurt/comfort.

synopsis. you’re upset. you don’t know why, but felix is there to hold your hand through your sadness.

word count. 1k words

warnings. you’re just extremely sad. overthinking a little bit.

note. i hope you can store this for rainy days :)

Some days are easier than others.

Like walking over a small crack in your step; like laughing wholeheartedly with your head thrown back without worrying about the way your laugh sounds; like swimming without thinking of the dangers of drowning.

Days like these feel like music, and bright colors, and photographs, and confetti, and brownies waiting for you back at home.

Some days, it’s hard to get up.

Like tripping over that small crack.

On days like these, the sound of your laughter feels foreign and terrifying and there’s a weight pushing down on your chest that refuses to budge until it feels like you’re drowning.

Time feels so weird. It feels like it’s been minutes, but seconds seem too long. It’s noon, and suddenly it’s closer to night, but it feels like you haven’t done anything since 9am. Time is going by so slow, but hours have passed so fast. You just want the day to end.

You don’t even know what you’re upset about anymore. All you know is you’ve let loose all the ugly feelings that have always been there, the ones you’ve hidden so well. There’s nothing but static in your head, and walking home feels like such a tedious task.

The sound of the door is faint when you close it, not wanting to disturb Felix who was probably sleeping by now. It’s raining now, and you think you’ll spend the rest of the night waiting for it to get heavier.

There’s no time to be sad but now, when the rest of the world is asleep and unaware.

With eyes unfocused, you move to your bedroom to grab a change of clothes. When you walk in, Felix is already under the sheets, back rising and falling steadily. A feeling akin to guilt forces a finger down your throat, and you’re tempted to leave the room to take comfort on your couch and sound of the heavy rain instead.

It has always been so easy to fall into your sadness alone, especially when it’s all you’ve ever known.

But it’s different now.

Lee Felix has always reminded you that he was willing to carry the weight on your shoulders, that he’d be there to hold your hand and allow you to feel your sadness.

Biting back on your quivering lips, you gently tap his shoulder. The action has you holding down a shamed sob at having to disturb the boy when he was probably exhausted.

He isn’t difficult to wake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes when he feels your touch on his shoulder. His hair is disheveled from hours of tossing and turning in bed, and his eyes are still riddled with sleep.

When your face comes into view, Felix finds a soft smile on his face. “My love?”

Though, his sleepiness quickly grows to concern when his eyes flicker down from your eyes to your lips. Trembling lips and teary eyes are easy to spot, especially on you. Felix has spent every day of his life since he has known you memorizing your habits and patterns, enough that he knows something is wrong right away.

“Is something wrong?”

“Lix, I’m… I’m sad.”

He wordlessly takes your hand in his, pulling gently so you can sit down in front of him. Nodding his head, he runs comforting circles on the back of your hand, squeezing lightly.

“Do you have a reason in mind?” Felix’s eyes are soft when he speaks.

You shake your head.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset.” His voice is softer, and something about the way he talks to you with so much care and gentleness has your face twitching the way it does before you let out the ugliest sob.

“Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head.

And you almost cry when he gathers you in his arms, taking long breaths to stop the tears from your eyes that want to solicit themselves. It’s only when he replies that you finally allow yourself to cry today. It feels safe here.

"It’s okay. I’m right here. You have me, angel." He mumbles into your ear, pulling you closer into his lap with one hand brushing through your hair, and the other running up and down your back.

Your grip on his shirt tightens, and you don’t have to look to know that the fabric of his shirt is soaked with your tears, but he doesn’t mind. Felix has never minded. He simply allows you to wash out your sadness and your frustration.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He tilts his head down so he can press a sweet kiss on the top of your head, letting his lips rest there for a while while he continues to run soothing circles on your back.

You let yourself be surrounded by his scent — the smell of his lotion, the warmth of his body, and something that smells so much like home.

And you stay like this, for several minutes… or hours. You don’t know.

Time doesn’t matter much when you’re with Felix. When your tears finally subside, you allow yourself to peel your face from his neck, just to take a good look at the boy.

“I’m sorry I’m so sad all the time.” A nauseating wave of guilt rises in your chest, eyes glossy as you suddenly feel like you can’t look at him. Like, if he saw you like this, he would feel so disappointed.

Gently placing his hands on both sides of your face, he tilts your head so you’re looking at him — really looking at him.

“You don’t have to apologize. In my eyes, you’re already doing well.” He murmurs, swiping his thumb on your cheek to wipe away the stray tears from when you had been sobbing earlier.

Days aren’t always going to be easy.

But Lee Felix will always be waiting for you at home, with arms open, and the reminder that it’s okay to be sad and feel these real, human emotions.

With his lips pressed on your flushed cheeks, you’re convinced that everything will be okay someday. Maybe not now, but it will be.

#k-labels #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #felix fanfic #lee felix x you #stray kids x you

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orikiys · 8 months

Text

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails and kisses for eternity

✰ pairings: seungmin x gn!reader

✰ genre: romance, angst, bit of a poetic add and slight fluff

✰ warnings: angst, ex seungmin who is trying to win you back, miscommunications, real life talks, fluff, nostalgia

✰ word count: 1.2k+ words

one 𖨂

where are you love? and why have you lost directions to my dorm? come back, please. it’s getting harder without you here. it’s been four weeks now. not a single text or a single glimpse of you has wrecked my mind. your vanilla body wash- it’s over. and i don’t want to buy another one, because it may smell like you, but i have begun to forget that scent. the little touches, the head pats when i’m asleep, blowing on my food for me, buying me my favourite coffee. . . all of this is beautiful. but it was beautiful, before we ended up ruining it.

two 𖨂

please tell me that i am not the only one who still re-reads our texts. am i the only one who still watches our videos and laughs before it reality hits, that it’s in the past now. we were a thing. the most beautiful one in my opinion. i still remember the way you carved yourself into my heart and refused to budge. the way you treated me like an art piece and added strokes to highlight my beauty, all because you wanted me to see it myself. it’s funny isn’t it? how in a matter of a second, all the memories we created, the hardships we went through together, the times where we would just hold each other all night long– all of it came crashing down in waves. when the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning and you can feel the water forcing you to shut your eyes and making breathing a lot tougher. everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and strength that the ship had, that’s no longer there. we may still remember it, but it’s gone now. too broken that it cannot be fixed back anymore. even the molten gold cannot fix these type of vases like us. and all you can do is recklessly cling onto it, fool your mind and tell yourself that it’ll be okay. even though deep down you know, it can never be okay. nor can it go back to the way it was. the way we were. and the other thing you can do is float. you find something to hang on to. maybe a photograph of children on a slide while their parents watch them with a small smile. or maybe it’s a person, for me it was you. so all i am doing is floating. trying to stay alive.

three 𖨂

when i first fell in love, i was soaring high in the sky with magical wings supporting me to go beyond. but when love ended, it feels as if you have been dropped like a rock in mid-air. and before you know it, the rock shatters to a hundred small pieces. and i still remember how we used to write on pizza boxes, but now it write alone. i write on every dying sunset hoping you’ll resurrect from a poem. but neither do i want to force your way back. i never want to change you. never. you’re perfect just the way you are. and if time could turn back, i would have told you how much you mean to me. but time, it wasn’t on my luck. and as time passed further, we drifted further. long night talks turned into small smiles before sleeping. eating together turned into taking out our frustrations on each other, and in the end we grew tired of it. they say love heals everything. then why did it tear us apart? why were we the ones who suffered when we loved each other unconditionally? why couldn’t we just talk out all the time instead of yelling at each other? why couldn’t we just understand each other?

four 𖨂

i still wonder when you stopped loving me? but i do know it happened before our break up. i want to hear from you. hear the exact moment when you fell out of love. the moment when all my quirks became flaws, the moment i stopped being endearing and started appearing annoying. these days i still wonder why you let things go. why you gave up on such a beautiful thing we had. our memories. all the months we spent together. but other days i thank you, for ripping off the bandaid. doing something neither of us wanted to do, but it was for the best. at least that’s what we told each other. i hated goodbyes so much. because i know it was the end of us. i remember that day clearly. i held your hand tighter, kissed you longer, stared at you longer and just held you in arms hoping you would stop. but you didn’t. and when i saw you grab all your things and hand me my hoodies i felt the tears brim but i held them in. it was mutual right? this decision. so i had to look happy. i just had to. and when you gave me the last goodbye hug, i was trying to memorise you. so that no matter how many months pass by i would still know that a piece of you is with me.

five 𖨂

it’s been a few weeks since my last voicemail and they’re about to end too. i still miss you, just not as much as i did before. and it hurts a little less. sometimes i wake up and don’t rush to check my phone like i used to. i heard our song play in the cafe and it made me smile, no tears this time. but it’s 2:06 in the morning and my eyes sting from crying and my head is pounding. why did you show up? why? why now? when i was finally trying to do better. you came in and ruined it. though my heart hurt when you cried into my chest saying you missed me too. and that you read all of my voicemails as well. then let me ask you, what is it that stops you? that stops you from loving me freely? tell me, my love. no secrets, remember?

six 𖨂

no matter how hard i try to fit into society, i feel like i don’t belhere. i feel like there is something missing in me, something that ignites my feelings and makes me feel alive. i may not be the perfect per, but i try my best to be the best for you. and one thing that i’ve learned is that it’s my fault as well. i let you. i gave up. i didn’t stop you either. and i regret that. please forgive me. can we try to make things right? i know you need your space and time to make the decision, but i want you to know i was in the wrong as well and i ask for your forgiveness. and in your kisses i found the flavour of the twinkling stars. bright and small. unreachable but pure. so kiss me again and again. till you fill my empty heart with it. till you leave your imprints and till i remember your every bit again. kiss me, once more. for eternity.

PERM TAGLIST: @taeriffic 🧣 @hello-2-u-from-me 🧣 @ilychee08 🧣 @sleepyleeji 🧣 @spacegirlstuff

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sorceresski · 1 year

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Sick Day - Kylian Mbappé

Pairing; Kylian Mbappé x reader

Summary; You’re ill, you neglect yourself and he takes care of you.

You knew it was going to be a shitty day when you woke up at 4am with a splitting headache and the beginnings of a fever. Kylian lay next to you, snoring lightly, his arm draped over your stomach possessively.

Deciding to deal with the fever when the sun rises, you let yourself drift off to sleep. You woke up a few hours later to Kylian rummaging in your shared wardrobe as he prepared to leave for training. You felt even worse now, your entire body ached. You pulled the covers over your head to drown out his noise and the sunlight.

“Amour, are you ok?” He asked, coming into the room. He knew something was wrong because you were usually the first out of bed.

“I might have to call in sick today, I don’t feel very well,” mumbled the heap of sheets on the bed.

You felt the bed dip with his weight, his concerned expression coming into view as he peeled back the covers from your face. He pressed the back of his palm to your neck. “The fever is not that bad. I’ll leave breakfast and some medication in the kitchen before I go. Promise me you’ll take it.”

He knew how much you hated swallowing pills. “I’ll take it,” you rolled your eyes. He still didn’t look convinced. “I promise.” He knew you too well. Satisfied with your response, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and made his way to the kitchen.

You picked your phone from the nightstand to let your boss know you won’t be able to make it to work today, the sound of Kylian in the house serving as background noise.

“I’m leaving!” He yelled, the front door closing after him. The apartment fell silent and you fell into an unpleasant sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness.

———————————————————————

Kylian walked into the apartment 6 hours later to find the pancakes and pills he left on the kitchen counter untouched. He threw his bag to the floor and ran up the stairs.

He opened the bedroom door to find you in the same position he had left you in this morning. He tutted and shook his head. He was disappointed but not surprised, he just wished you would prioritize your health.

“Y/n?” He shook you awake. “You’re burning up!” He immediately sprung into action, ripping the sheets off you and sitting you up on the bed. He took your (his) shirt off you and swept you up effortlessly to the shower.

You blinked the last bits of sleep away. “What are you-” Was all you could get out before you were hit by a blast of cold water. You squealed, attempting to fight your way out of his hold, but he was far stronger than you. He held you under the shower for a couple minutes, getting soaked as well.

He dried you, while you glared daggers into his chest. “I hate you,” you sniffed.

“I know,” he said calmly. He walked out of the room and you took the time to study your reflection, a mess. When he returned, he had changed out of his wet clothes and gave you a fresh pair of clothes for you to wear. Your joints screamed as you shrugged them on, suddenly feeling exhausted and hungry. Very hungry.

He led you back to the bed, making you rest against the headboard. You avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed at having to be taken care of like a child.

Kylian came back with a bowl of soup and the medication he had left on the counter hours before.

“My mother’s recipe.” You felt your heart swell at his sheepish smile. He placed the medication on the nightstand and crawled into bed beside you. “Something for the fever and headache.”

“Thank you,” you said genuinely, earning a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You cringed away from him. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuated each word with a kiss. He turned on the tv finding something to watch while the sounds of your slurping filled the room.

A/n: the first thing I’ve written on this app that isn’t smut😭

Requests are open for Kylian, Haaland & Neymar.

#mbappe #kylian mbappé x reader #kylian mbappe #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #Kylian Mbappé fic #Kylian Mbappé imagine #kylian mbappe x reader

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damn-stark · 3 months

Text

Chapter 24 By saying something stupid like…

Chapter 24 of Sugar

A/N- Birthday post! Also sorry for what’s going to happen in this chapter ;)

Warning- Swearing, ANGST!!, FLUFF, spoilers, talks of miscarriage, SLOW BURN, heavy pining, talks of alcohol, drinking and smoking, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapter 202, and the beginning portion of 208 of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

You remember the day that the power that coursed through your veins changed from a running creek to raging rapids.

Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, it was so rejuvenating! To your soul, to the very being you were. It was almost like before you came into full realization of your cursed technique you weren’t breathing, and the moment you unlocked your full capability you took breath in your lungs for the first time!

You really don’t know how you lived crippled like that for so long. You probably would have lived your entire life restricted if you had not left Satoru, home, and everything you knew. And if you never took Yuki Tsukumo’s offer.

You truly owe what you became to her. She kind of birthed you in a sense.

She wasn’t there the exact moment you were reborn, you had been separated from her and Todo and driven off the edge of a tall cliff that hung over a vicious ocean by a clan of curse users. But it was her training that accompanied you deep in the depths of the dark waters.

Breathe. Breathe…

Wait…you can’t breathe or you’ll fucking drown! So what do you do?

The waves are violent and thrashing you around making it impossible to focus, and your technique only truly works if you’re focused. So what can you do?

Die? Let this water drag you down a dark void?

It doesn’t sound so bad, it’s not like you were wanted all that much anyway. By your parents at least and by your brother who left you last year.

Suguru loves you. Nanako and Mimiko are growing to love you day by day when you talk with them on the phone. Todo tolerates you, and Yuki cares deeply for you, she wouldn’t have offered to waste her time training you or stuck around for as long as she has if she didn’t.

But you still are unwanted. So how bad can not existing be? Your lungs will fill with water and you'll cry with the need to breathe, minutes will feel like hours as you drown to death, but how could you keep cursing this world and your family by existing as a weak link?

You’ll close your eyes, and the pain won’t change as death is stealing your life, but then the weak link won't exist.

Just…keep your eyes closed…

“You are strong.”

Master?

“What they think of you doesn’t define you. You are not a weak link. You are a force to be reckoned with, never forget that.”

You open your eyes and don’t see her, you just see a school of angelfish swimming past you while her words sound in your head.

“Be the monster they think you are and never shame away from what you were given.”

As her words hit your heart and start pushing away that willingness to let yourself die, there in the distance you catch a light flicker on. It’s small but bright and it swims towards you, slowly taking shape the closer it gets.

At first, you can’t identify what it is you see coming at you, but then when it finally reaches you, you see that it’s a ball of fire, and inside it are darker flames that are shaped into a menacing figure you can’t help but admire.

“Never lose your heart, y/n.”

Never…

The ball of fire disappears proving to be a figment of your imagination to push you to ask yourself why you're letting them win so easily.

You can’t let them. You’ve been taught better, you’re stronger than that. A hundred times stronger. So what are you doing?

You have to get out and fight back.

Besides what kind of elemental manipulator would you be if you died by drowning in water you can control?

You probably only have seconds of air left in your lungs before you start gasping for more, but those seconds mean nothing now as you filter your cursed energy through the water around you, and pass it through miles of heavy water, before you pull down the water down until your head pokes out and you can breathe in fresh air again.

The group of curse users that had been after you are hastily descending the hill to finish you off or make sure you’re dead, but they don’t see you in the water because of the cloudy night. They don’t even notice the waterline at shore pulling back as if a tsunami is about to strike down. They don’t pay attention to the wind quickly picking up speed as it rushes past them.

They do feel the earth below them start to rumble when your cursed energy seeps through the ocean ground and stretches out miles you never could reach before. When they finally step off the hill they notice a fireline come to life and give light to the fact that the water is missing from shore and drawing back further out, before the flames do the impossible by crawling over the water.

The ground begins to tremble more violently to the point the earth around them is cracking, and finally, they question what's escalating. “What’s happening?” You hear one of them panic.

The wind starts to howl, and the cracks begin to glow as you leak fire through them without having them notice just yet.

“It’s her,” one of their voices trembles as they figure it out, considering that Mother Nature isn’t capable of doing what’s happening at this very moment.

“Eyes in the water!” One of them finally thinks.

And when their gazes follow the fire trail out into the water they finally spot you miles out, creepily walking out of the water that draws past you.

Fire basks your arms completely, and flames cascade down your hands to fuel the cracks spreading out like wildfire, and beautifully but menacingly mix with the gusts of air that start to swirl around your feet and gain height.

“Kill her!” One of them bellows as they point at you slowly creeping forward.

The cursed energy running out of your stomach travels throughout every inch of your body and for the first time it strikes your heart, making it jolt, and making you fear that it somehow stopped—Then again you wouldn't be standing upright or be as coherent as you are now, but you do have that sudden fear until this never before sense of power strikes your body and awakens a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

It’s so bizarre, yet it's a satisfying rush that gives new life to the very technique you were born with. Intensifying its power to its maximum degree, and changing something within you that you don’t notice yet, but the group of curse users do.

It isn’t possible, but to them, it seems that way. To them it looks like red-orange fire leaks through your eyes and burns away the very eye color you were born with to take over and settle in your eyes and show everyone who looked at you how powerful you are and how menacing you can be.

Nevertheless, they don’t scare away, they stand their ground, so you decide to play with what you just got by right away picking up the wind's speed, and then fueling the fire's intensity. You widen the cracks in the ground while also creating more. And lastly, you stop walking toward them and begin to smirk before you throw your hands up as you raise the water behind you hundreds of feet into the sky, once and for all showing your change in power.

——

That was the day everything changed for the better.

“So dismantling his domain huh?” You greet Yuki without looking back at her, you recognized her loud footsteps from the moment they started to echo as she approached.

“It’s the only way to defeat Kenjaku,” she says as she sits back on the lounging chair.

You lean over the balcony and just mindlessly watch the passing clouds in the sky with an unlit cigarette in between your fingers as you debate whether to give into your vices and prove that you’re stress goes beyond just worry for this upcoming fight, or leave the cigarette unused to prove to yourself that the thought of his sacrifice doesn’t mean a thing.

“What, you're not going to try and stop me from being stupid?” Yuki interjects shamelessly. “Or is that fight only reserved for the men you love?”

Pft!

Tsk. No.

Her words are stupid, silly.

“No,” you laugh and light the cigarette. “You’re stupid I don’t love him. He’s…” why did you hesitate? “He’s my friend. He’s a good friend.”

“Mhmm,” Yuki hums sassily as she knows you too well.

“And no,” you interject abruptly. “I won’t fight you.”

You turn around to face her and lean back against the railing.

“Because I trust you,” you continue explaining with a genuine look painted on your face. “Every move you make that day I’ll trust with my whole heart.”

The corner of her lips spread to a smile before she puts sunglasses on and leans back to relax, as usually does. It’s why people call her lazy, and even if it is partially true, the other reason is that she does a lot that people don’t see. Her times off are well deserved.

“Besides it's not like you’re planning to sacrifice yourself now are you?” You ask and draw in a short drag of your cigarette.

“Well,” Yuki slowly rolls out. “Who knows really? As much as we can plan when the time comes things change. We have to adapt to what’s thrown at us. If that means making the ultimate move then I’ll make it, no hesitation.”

You keep the cigarette in between your lips and draw in a long and deep drag now.

“Would you?” She redirects.

You leave your gaze on her for a moment before you drop your eyes to the ground and pull the cigarette out to drop the ash on the floor whilst you stay quiet even if the question needs no time to ponder over.

“If the need arises yes,” you share quietly just out of shame for one thing. “I’d much rather give my daughter and my students a chance for an easier life even if it means I’m not in it.” You sigh and pull the cigarette towards your lips. “Satori will grow up resenting me for leaving her alone, but at least she won’t be tormented by one evil.”

You expected to cry as those heartbreaking words came out of your mouth. When you think about your daughter having to live without you any other time tears never fail to well in your eyes as your heart can’t handle the agony, but right now maybe it’s the fact that you’re comforted by Yuki’s presence, or just enveloped by the seriousness of the moment, but you don’t cry. You just smoke the death stick in between your lips. So maybe that’s it too.

“And if it happens,” you add just above a whisper. “If I’m the one that dies that day…free my brother, will you?” You ask not because he’s the strongest and the sorcerer world as you know it needs him, but because your world needs him.

“Of course, that’s the plan,” she fails to understand the true meaning behind your question.

“No,” you argue and raise your head to share a pressing look. “Satori will need him. I left him in charge of her if anything happens. So please if something happens to me, get him out as quickly as you can.”

Yuki lifts her head and pushes her glasses down her nose to make sure that you see her brown eyes on you as she assures you. “I will.”

You let out a deep breath of relief and finally break away from your spot to walk behind her.

“Can I braid your hair?” You ask.

“Not if you have that cigarette lit. What if you burn my hair?” She remarks, making you pout and walk over to kill the cigarette on the ashtray before you return behind her.

“Sit up,” you command as you sanitize your hands so they don’t feel so dirty after that cigarette.

Yuki groans in protest but she lazily pushes herself up to leave you access to her long blond hair.

“You know,” you share thoughtfully while you carefully gather her hair in your hands. “When I was young, my mother always told me that doing your hair, putting on makeup, and dressing nicely was a weapon. They think of you as an accessory, she said, and that’s what gives you an advantage.” You scoff softly and start to carefully knead her hair together from the top of her head.

“I used to think she was wise, but as I grew up her words don’t hold as much inspiration anymore. They’re quite sad,” you admit. “Given she’s still at home, living a miserable life beside a man who doesn’t love her anymore.”

“Well,” Yuki sighs as she drapes one leg over the other. “Given her situation, I guess those words mean something to her. She expected you to live the same way, and wanted to share her knowledge the only way she knew how to.”

You often thought of it like that. When you were younger of course, but now, maybe it’s because of all the resentment clouding your head, but those words are terrible advice, why would she want you to live like that too?

Why wouldn’t she fight for something better for you? Sure you use your femininity to your advantage, the world dominated by men demands it, but there’s a difference between her advice and the choices you make.

“I suppose,” you whisper in comprehension. “But why wouldn’t she say, like, get all pretty if you want to, don’t do it for anyone but yourself, you know? If that makes you happy then do it.”

Yuki shrugs and mumbles, “you were raised differently.”

“Yeah, I guess we were. But I still wish I could be like, I’m hot with all the pretty getup and I’m hot without it too. And thousands of people think so too.”

“And your face is worth thousands of bucks,” Yuki adds on to your case.

You grin. “Boom! Exactly!” You exclaim and laugh softly.

“Now,” Yuki blurts with a sudden burst of energy that slightly catches you off guard since she was just so calm. “Why not let yourself love again?”

You sigh deeply through your nose, making her snicker and sit up straighter, causing her hair to slip out of your fingers.

“Hold still,” you hiss and grab her hair to yank her head back.

“I mean the guy is your type, he’s obviously head over heels for you, and you’ve grieved long enough,” she continues to say, bringing irritation to your once peaceful mind. “Plus Geto told you to find someone else, so I don’t understand your hesitance. Just jump his bones already.” She snickers cheekily.

You let her hair go this time and walk to the side of her chair to look at her with a judgy look. “Jump his bones?” You question and she laughs.

“Want me to get dirty or what?” She teases.

You roll your eyes and return to your spot to finish braiding half of her hair.

“What? Are you going to be single forever?” She follows up with another question in your silence.

“Yuki,” you mumble seriously.

“Tsk.” She flicks her wrist. “If you’re going to say it’s too soon, yeah I’m aware of when he died, but,” she goes serious, losing the lightheartedness from her tone. “You can mourn him however long you want y/n, but the truth of the matter is that he’ll still be dead.”

Your breath hitches and your irritation quickly transforms into anger.

“So why should you deny yourself something good because of it? We as sorcerers don’t have a promise of a long life you know?”

You part your lips to contradict her, but there’s some truth behind her words you don’t want to admit out loud, so instead you let your anger dwindle and bring up another fact. “You know what I’ve done…I don’t deserve any kind of kindness that love brings.”

“So what? Is he innocent?” She rebuttals. “It doesn’t matter how bloody your hands are, y/n—”

“It does to me. I don’t deserve being loved like that. Especially not by someone as good-hearted as him.” you cut her off while you collect the end of her half-braid and the rest of her hair into a ponytail.

Yuki feels you finish before you let her know and peers back to pierce her scolding glare into you. “You can’t let your fear of losing someone control you,” she says without needing you to say it. She sees it in you. “You’ll end up alone and that’s what you fear the most isn’t it?”

You part your lips, but you’re left too stunned to talk.

Behind your own protests, the fear of feeling that emptiness again terrifies you. Suguru’s death made you feel empty for so long, and losing the child you were expecting only worsened the fact. You don’t want to feel it again. So even if it means yearning forever, you told yourself that you won’t put yourself through that again, and you won’t put anyone through that pain either.

You don’t get to tell Yuki that though because someone with light and bare footsteps approaches the balcony. And neither of you need to look back to know that it’s Tengen.

“Well if it isn’t you, Star killer,” you greet them spitefully.

Tengen hums and walks around Yuki and you, to be able to see your faces.

“You know,” they interject calmly. “Ever since you’ve gotten here all you’ve ever given me is judgment. That’s a lot coming from a woman who’s drowning in the blood of hundreds of people.”

You focus on one set of eyes and narrow your gaze as you press a hand on your hip.

They probably expected you to fold over in grief, but you instead chuckle. You genuinely laugh. Which doesn’t stun Tengen.

“Yes, I am,” you admit with a hint of smugness and no hesitation or an ounce of remorse. You’ve felt bad before, but that was long ago and has long been resolved when you chose your path in life and decided to not live in regret out of fear of hating yourself.

That’s why you’re smug and certain with every word. “I embraced evil. I’m a monster. I accept it and I don’t regret what I did. We’re sides of the same coin, so I don’t judge you for that, I don’t hate you for that. You failed to save my friend, and you wanted to kill my mentor. That’s why I hate you.” You smile sweetly.

“And yet you’re here,” they point out the damn obvious.

You nod stiffly. “You have the door to open my brother's prison. Helping you could mean saving the Jujutsu world as we know it, of course, I’m here. You’re not planning to kill me, are you? An act of justice?”

Tengen scoffs and drops their head. “No,” they say. “You’re my guard. And I, unlike you, don't judge.”

You huff and feign a smile before you lean towards one side to then walk over and sit beside Yuki to lay back and rest too.

“What do you want, Tengen?” Yuki questions their presence. “We’ve brainstormed all we needed to for today.”

Tengen softly claps their hands and a creepy smile spreads on their pale rectangular face. “I've come to invite you both to a nice bar date the night after tomorrow. I’ve already let the Death painting womb—.”

“Choso,” you correct them. “His name is Choso. He’s going to risk his life for you, you might as well say his name.”

Tengen clears their throat and reiterates themselves. “I let Choso know. I just needed to let you know, so wear something fancy. Black tie is the dress code.”

It’s kind of random, you never thought they’d be one to be considerate considering he’s a higher being, but you do like this idea.

“What’s the occasion?” Yuki probes in confusion. “Fattening us up before Kenjaku kills us or what?”

Tengen lets out a deep sigh and for the second time, they sound annoyed at Yuki. “No, it’s simply a nice evening. So you can all enjoy yourselves while you’re here.”

You smile as you slide on some expensive shades over your eyes so they don’t see you closing them. “Well, I for one like the idea. It gives me an excuse to wear the gown I was supposed to wear for the Gala.”

“Ah, is that the excuse you’re saying?” Yuki taunts you, making your lip curl to a scowl.

“Shut up. I'll burn your hair.” You grimace your threat and make her laugh before you both can go on ignoring Tengen to enjoy your evening side by side.

——

*LATER*

“Guys! Guys!” You shout as you burst into the room with a happy grin on your lips. “Look what Ijichi just brought me from home!” You exclaim and show off a magazine that Yuki and Choso can’t see from where they’re sitting.

“Remind me,” Yuki interjects curiously. “Who’s Ijichi again?”

“He’s, uh, a head manager at the school,” you remind Yuki as you walk to the table she’s at. “He was my only underclassman when I was in my second year.”

“Ah right? The geeky guy.”

“Mhmm. Anyway.” You beam and reach the table to slam down the magazine in between Choso and Yuki. “My new manager sent me the December issue of the magazine I’m featured in before its release date!”

Both Choso and Yuki lean over the table to take a better look at what you’re showing off.

“It’s me in a shoot inspired by the Birth Venus!” You explain the cover you're on.

“Hot,” Yuki immediately compliments you with a faint smirk. “I thought you were retiring though?”

You plop yourself down and fold your arms over the tabletop to lean over with your chin resting on your arms. “Yeah, well the editor of this magazine is a friend of mine and he wanted me to be on the cover, so when he pitched the idea I couldn’t resist. Plus Kinji, Kira, and the twins pushed me to take the job, so I did it,” you muse as you admire the cover and avoid looking at Choso’s reaction as he keeps studying the cover as if he’s trying to really look at every single detail.

One because you can’t let your heart swoon and get all flustered by how soft his eyes are as he examines the cover, and two, you’re still upset at him for his choice at yesterday's meeting.

“You look great with that black wig,” Yuki points out to another version of you in the same photo but depicted as one of the other figures from the painting.

“Aw really?” You coo and touch your chest. “Should I dye my hair black?”

“No,” Choso blurts. “Your hair color is fine as it is.”

Yuki holds your gaze and tries to show a teasing smile, but you look away and clench your jaw to fight the giddy emotions trying to take over.

“Your eyes,” Choso continues to add. “They’re a different color. Why?”

You swallow thickly and only spare a glance his way. “It’s harder landing jobs with my eyes the color they are,” you explain to him with your eyes focused on the magazine. “And it’s just not all that common, so to avoid making things hard, I wear contacts of the eye color my eyes were before.”

“Oh, well, the color of your eyes now is more than fine, you shouldn’t change it,” he says bluntly without an ounce of timidness.

But you do grow timid and clear your throat while you bite back a smile. “Thanks,” you mutter.

“You look…” Choso clears his throat. “Very beautiful. Congratulations on your achievement.”

Your face immediately burns hot and your heart skips a beat before it starts to pound. “Uh, thank you, Choso,” you manage to say completely collected.

Yuki hides her teasing smile by picking up the magazine and flipping through the pages.

“Uh did you hear Yaga’s dead?” You try to fill the silence to avoid talking to Choso or letting him talk to you. “He was killed by the old bag of bones Gakuganji.”

“I heard,” Yuki mumbles with her attention wavered. “I didn’t expect anyone else to do it honestly. The higher-ups are all slimy pieces of shit.”

“You said it,” you agree.

Her phone then goes off and she jumps off her seat to take it out of her back pocket. “I’m going to take this,” she excuses herself as she drags herself away with a small smile. “Have fun,” she directs at you before she closes the door behind her, leaving Choso and you alone in a silence you fill with tension due to the emotions you can’t turn off.

You could actually sit in silence since you pick up the magazine and go through it, but you’ve barely said a word to Choso since yesterday, even now you can barely look at him, he can’t last another day with you obviously upset at him.

“Y/N, you’re upset,” he breaks the silence.

You lift the magazine higher up to cover your face completely and mutter to the pages with pouted lips. “It’s your life, you can throw your life away if you want to.”

“I’m…” he pauses and sighs before he leans over and pushes the magazine down with his finger so you can look at him and know that he’s being sincere. “I’m not throwing my life away. If it happens I’m sacrificing my life away for my—”

“For your brothers, I know,” you cut him off and shut the magazine with force before you throw it on the table and continue with a narrowed look and anger laced in your tone. “But do you really think Yuji will see it that way after finally understanding what you are to each other? Do you really think your brothers would want that? Don’t you think they want you to fight and live instead of fight and die?”

You don’t shy away from being honest, after all, you've been building up that argument.

It leaves Choso speechless both from disbelief to your emotions so boldly shared and expressed, and to what you’re saying. He has to take a minute before coming up with an argument. “I hope my brothers will understand.”

You scoff and drop your head, making him continue to try and make you see it his way.

“Yuji will understand. Besides, it’s not like he’s known me for long. It’s been 12 days since we met. If I die I’ll only be a fleeting memory to him. He doesn’t need me really. No one does.”

Your pout disappears, your eyebrows slowly ease from their pinched hold, and your shoulders fall as you let out the deep breath you were holding in with your anger as his words sink into your heart.

You don’t regret your harshness, you don’t regret your anger. You still are upset, his words don’t ease that. No matter how much you try to fight it, your anger just doesn’t disappear, but right now you feel pity and sadness that he thinks that because it’s not true.

“Listen to me Choso,” you speak softer. “Yuji will need his big brother. Now more than ever. Especially in times after this is over, in the down times. He’ll need you. And the rest will too.”

Choso draws out a shaky breath and his brown eyes gleam with tears.

“And I…” you pause and catch your heart before it can say what it wants.

Yet you need him to understand, you need him to see things your way, and you need to fight so your fear doesn’t come true. “…I’ll need my friend.”

His breath hitches and he sits up straighter.

“I’ve lost too many friends. I don’t want to lose another…so at least fight a bit more to just stay alive.”

He holds your gaze with his eyes slowly widening, his lips slightly parted, and his cheeks burning as a blush grazes on them.

You can’t know what’s happening inside him, but he does feel like his heart stops and his breath gets caught in his throat while it all goes quiet, and only you exist in this vast space before you disappear too and all he sees is a few seconds of darkness. When he blinks though, he's suddenly somewhere else; outside, surrounded by a sea of grass that looks gold by the sun's gentle light casting over the earth. There’s tall trees scattered around, and a gentle and warm breeze blows past him.

He hears laughter and when he follows it he sees his little brother Yuji with blankets under one arm and a girl with long dark hair sitting on his shoulder. He can’t see her face but in the back of his head, he knows it’s your daughter, Satori. Which is odd because the only time he’s seen her is the other day behind a screen when you introduced them.

Yet he doesn’t dare question any of it further. He accepts what’s happening because he feels happy, comforted, and he feels something overwhelmingly positive, something new but welcoming, something that fills him with a never-ending warmth, something like love. It's not a new feeling, he's always felt all these emotions because he knew he loved his brothers, but right now it’s heightened to an astounding amount.

“Choso,” he hears your voice, soft and oozing with honey.

“Hm?” He probes and drifts his eyes ahead to see your white hair gleaming brightly because of the sun's light bouncing off your hair. He sees the skirt of your soft pink dress flowing gently because of the breeze, and he notices you holding something as you walk down the hill.

“Look who’s awake,” you say excitedly before you turn around and show off a little baby that looked to be a few months old, with white hair like yours, and wearing a pink sundress that coordinated with yours.

“Why don’t you say hi to Daddy,” you tell the baby with a happy smile. “Hi, Daddy.”

The baby girl glances at you and smiles, causing his heart to swoon and for an awe-struck smile of his own to tug on his lips as he watches you and…his baby he shared with you.

There was nothing more he was assured of than the fact that the baby in your arms was his and yours. You shared a good and happy life and a little blessing.

“She said it!” You exclaim delusionally. “Say it again, hi Daddy.”

The baby's eyes stay on Choso and she coos, making him smile brightly.

“Good evening, my girl,” he greets the baby, and she squeals before she throws her arms out and reaches for him.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Choso picks up his pace and reaches out to take the baby. However, before he could wrap his hands around her he blinks and suddenly it's all gone and he’s back in the parlor room with you sitting across from him with a black kimono on and no baby in your arms.

It was all just a fake memory…

One he wanted to come true more than anything.

“Choso?” You call out in concern and a hint of annoyance as he looks like he suddenly spaced out.

“Hm?” He snaps his attention to you.

You narrow your gaze to study him for a second, but you don’t find anything concerning so you sit back and relax, failing to realize that he was just stuck in a fake memory triggered by a sudden realization he had of you.

“Did you hear me?” You query with worry.

“Yes. And I’ll try,” he assures you, making you let out a small breath that makes your anger slowly fizzle out and a faint smile grows on your lips.

“That’s all I ask,” you say softly . “Now,” you change the subject as the room finally loses the tension you had filled it with. “I should let you know that Kinji and Kirara called me, they’ve met with Itadori and Fushiguro.”

“Oh. That’s good,” he says and sits back to tuck his hands in his sleeves. “Did they agree to help?”

You smile wider and nod. “Yeah. After a bit of fun back and forth they said they agreed.”

Choso sighs and nods. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

You pick up the magazine to return to the page you were on before you got interrupted. “You should text Itadori,” you suggest. “It doesn't have to be a long conversation, just ask him how he’s doing. And then ask him what he has planned for the day. I don’t know, something simple.”

“Do you think…he’ll appreciate it?” Choso asks with concern.

You glance over at him and nod. “Yeah. I’m sure he would. I always liked it when my brother checked up on me.”

Choso lets out a deep breath and nods before he pulls his phone out of his pocket and stares at the screen.

“Could you help me?” He asks with his normal deep voice, but there was a way he said his question that makes you grin.

“Of course,” you don’t hesitate to give in and put the magazine down to quickly fall beside him and help.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Feeling nervous about the way you look and the thought of walking into that cantina date is something that hasn’t happened in a long time.

You tend to get nervous sometimes, more so when you were younger. It was a part of growing up, but as you grew up and grew to be more confident, feeling nauseous and self-conscious about the way you look went away.

Maybe it is because you went on dates with the same man for 11 years of your life, or because when you worked in your public job as a model you just didn’t care what non-sorcerers had to say or what they thought about you. But tonight, ever since you started getting ready for the cantina date Tengen hosted, your nerves are just eating you up. It’s annoying and persistent!

You almost want to avoid walking in the cantina when you stop outside the double doors, but what else are you going to do in this isolated place? Stay in your room and watch a movie or read a book?

You can do that any other night, so after a deep breath you slide the doors open and walk in to see a pretty small and casual cantina with a jukebox in one corner, a stage with a piano, and…in front of the long bar Choso steals all your attention, and you realize how much trouble you’re in as you notice how absolutely breathtaking he looks in a black and white suit that all gets tied together with a sloppy bowtie.

He looks so gentle, and his already rich brown eyes only gleam a much more intense rich brown in that formal suit tempting you to risk it all and crush the wall you’re putting up. He entices you without as much as trying.

But that’s it you almost give in, you remain collected no matter how majestic he looks.

However, him on the other hand, his rich brown eyes found you the moment the doors opened, and when your eyes landed on him it was like he was seeing you for the first time; he inhales deeply and straightens up while his eyes widen, a fluttering goes off in his stomach, and his heart begins to pound in his chest to the point he thought you could notice.

He always liked looking at you, he found peace in watching you, but right now as you gleamed like a divine star in your long black gown adorned with thousands of tiny rhinestones, he felt like he wasn’t worthy enough to be looking at you. It's like you were a goddess who just came from above.

And he didn’t know much about gods and goddesses, but he knew you were one now.

“Y/N Gojo, I’m glad you could make it,” Tengen’s greeting startles you, causing you to clutch onto your chest with your gloved hand and look at them in annoyance.

“You fucking scared me, prick,” you sneer, “you need to stop appearing like that.”

Tengen smiles with amusement. “Jumpy? It’s only the same people you’ve been with for the past 4 days.”

You glare at them and finally depart from the entrance, but not without muttering under your breath. “Why don’t you shove that greeting up your ass.”

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you quip and look back at Choso with a genuine smile. “Choso. Good evening.”

Said man swallows thickly and clears his throat. “Good evening, y/n.”

You stop before him and discreetly study him from up close, noticing how well the suit hugged his muscles, and how the neckline hugs his veiny and muscular neck before you force your focus on his sloppy bow tie. “Uh, can I fix your bow?” You ask first just in case he doesn’t want your help.

Choso glances down at his bow and brushes his fingers over it, noticing now that it’s messed up. “Oh,” he mouths. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You flash him a happy smile before you take a step closer to the point you can feel each other's breaths unfurl over your flesh, and you can feel the warmth of his lips tempting you for just a taste as you begin to help him.

“Uh,” Choso breathes out. “Is that…the gown you were going to wear for the gala thing you mentioned.”

You stop fixing his bow tie to first glance at his lips before you lock eyes and smile. “Yeah, actually. I didn’t want to let it go to waste so I said why not wear it for an hour or two tonight.”

Choso holds your gaze and nods softly before his eyes flicker down to your lips, and then they take in the long gloves that match your black dress, before he lastly looks at the slits on the sides of your dress that show off your soft-looking skin, and make his mind run wild. That's why he quickly drops his gaze to the floor and speaks sweetly. “Well, you look very…beautiful in it…is that okay to say?”

Your breath hitches and your face and body grow incredibly hot, but you manage to play it off with a giggle. “Yeah,” you assure him. “That’s totally fine. Thank you Choso.”

You focus back on fixing his bow tie and avoid looking into his eyes as you bring up a compliment of your own. “And you can pull off a suit my friend.” You laugh nervously, and out of their own will, your eyes fly to his lips before you meet his gaze. “You look very handsome.”

And he did. He absolutely pulls off the suit with his buns and those dreamy brown eyes of his. He looked just breathtakingly sexy and you want nothing more but to grab him and kiss him. He made your heart swoon and sigh like a love-struck fool.

You could just stare at him all day, the sight of him dressed so formally is so addicting. And you know deep inside it’s not good to feel so strongly for him, you and your mind are trying to fight against every aroused feeling filling your heart and body, but having him right before you looking as beautiful as he does makes you feel yourself losing the fight.

“Oh,” he gasps and grows a deep red. “Thank you. Uh, Tengen loaned me the suit.”

“Hm, well they picked the right one,” you continue to fluster him before you gently pat on his fixed bow tie. “All better.”

Choso glances at your finished work and nods. “Thank you. Now,” he clears his throat and steals one more glance at your painted lips before he turns to his side. “Do you want to sit while we wait for Tsukumo?”

Before you can agree Choso pulls out your seat for you.

“Oh wow, look at you,” you praise him with a beaming grin while you slide on the seat. “Thank you, Cho. Now,” you shift your attention to Tengen walking behind the bar. “Tengen two tequilas, please. And do them half. I don't want to scare off my friend here.”

“You know,” Choso interjects as he takes a seat beside you. “I don’t even think I can get drunk.”

You look away from Tengen preparing what you asked for to look at Choso smugly. “Oh, we can try. We can definitely try. Just,” you sigh and look ahead with a grin. “Don’t get me drunk. The last time I got drunk I cried and had to be helped to bed.”

“If you puke you’ll clean it up,” Tengen throws at you, making you laugh.

“Don’t worry as long as you don’t give me any of Miguel’s concoctions I’m good, one time,” you tell Choso. “Miguel made this very good but intoxicating drink, I was sick for days. I almost got alcohol poisoning…” you trail off and a frown flickers on your face as you recall flashes of those days with your family that’s mostly all gone now.

Choso notices but he doesn’t get to question it before Tengen puts the small cups out before you, causing your smile to reappear on your features.

“Now,” you change the atmosphere back to an amusing one. “You can drink it fast, or by sips. Whatever you prefer, but personally I drink it in one go.”

Choso looks at the clear drink with skepticism before he picks it up.

“Lime?” You offer as Tengen puts some out for you. “It helps for after you drink.”

“Do you take it?”

You snort. “Honey, I should not be saying this so proudly, but I have been drinking since I was a teenager, I’m a pro.” You laugh and pick up the drink to push the little cup towards him. “Cheers to…us. Our friendship.” You smile sweetly.

Choso doesn’t hesitate to clink his cup against yours to that, a bit too harshly may you add, but he only wasted a few drops, it wasn’t hard enough to break the cup or spill the entire drink. Luckily.

“Now go!” You exclaim and slam the bottom of the cup against the surface before you part your lips and swiftly swallow the strong tequila in one go.

Choso on the other hand manages to swallow it all quickly, but as it goes down his throat it burns and he immediately expresses that by scrunching his nose in disgust and coughing.

“How do you drink that shit?” He asks hoarsely, making you grab his arm and laugh—“I don’t find it funny.” He grumbles.

You laugh harder and mindlessly lean towards him.

“Another round,” you say between laughs. “This time,” you tell Choso. “Suck on the lime.”

Choso doesn’t argue against another drink, he just sighs deeply and takes the lime. “All right I’m trusting you.” He says.

You slide your hand off his arm and lean back to your space. “The taste won't go away, but it grows on you. If not then your tastes lie somewhere else.”

Tengen returns your cups with more alcohol, but before you can pick them up this time, the doors open and Yuki finally joins the party.

“You started without me,” she complains.

You peer back and huff. “Yeah, you’re late. Don’t worry though it won’t take you long to catch up.”

Choso gets out of his seat and pulls out Yuki’s seat for her just like he did for you.

“You look nice, Tsukumo,” Choso compliments her.

Yuki grins. “Thanks and you don’t look bad yourself.”

When she sits down she leans forward to take a look at you. “You look very elegant.”

You clasp your gloved hands together and flash her a sweet smile. “Thank you, master. You look quite breathtaking yourself.”

“Always.”

You forget how similar her personality is to Satoru’s. It can be annoying a lot of the time.

“Anyway,” you bring the attention back to the bar. “Catch up or get left behind.”

As soon as you say that Tengen doesn’t falter and leaves a small shot glass in front of Yuki.

“Okay, before we drink,” she says and turns to face Choso and you. “I just want to announce that Maki Zen’in annihilated the Zen’in clan.”

Your eyes widen with shock, and your lips express your glee.

“Naoya Zen’in included,” she adds. “We should toast to that.”

You laugh breathlessly and pick up your cup. “You know,” you share with growing pride for the girl without cursed energy. “Shoko called me this morning and said she needed to tell me something, we got distracted talking about other things so she never told me. I bet this was it.” You laugh again and nod slowly in comprehension. “The other clans must be fuming.”

“Why?” Choso asks innocently, unaware of the disdain for the disgrace that people born with no cursed energy are in sorcerer families—“I thought you said your family didn’t get along with the Zen’in clan?”

You put your cup down and sigh. “They don’t, but having a clan be killed by a woman with no cursed energy is…how can I put this…it’s a catastrophe.”

Choso scratches his head in confusion but doesn’t dare dive into that conversation.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuki cuts in as she slaps her hands on the tabletop. “They’re gone. And so is y/n’s husband that never was.” She snickers. “Let’s cheers to that, and Maki for her achievement.”

You pick up your cup and the three of you come together to clink your cups together with smiles not formed by the toast, but instead the joy of the simple moment before it’s completely washed over by overwhelming humor as Yuki and you catch Choso’s bad reaction to the strong drink.

“Careful,” Yuki manages to muster after she calms down. “Give y/n any more drinks and she’ll hop on that piano and she’ll give you a show.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “It happened one time…three times,” you mutter with embarrassment as you recall the memory of years ago.

“One time when we were visiting the States,” Yuki doesn’t get the hint. “We came across a bar mainly used by soldiers, we got drunk because we were having so much fun, and this one,” she points at you. “Had all the soldiers eating out of her hand with her skills on the piano.”

You drop your head on your hand and groan. “Ten years,” you grumble. “Ten years of lessons because my mother said it was good for a woman to have more elegant skills besides fighting. I had to show it off.” You lift your head and only show off a faint smile before you hide it by taking a long sip of the drink Tengen made for you.

“You both often share stories of your past. How long were you traveling together?” Choso asks as he sits back to try and get a good look at Yuki and you.

“A year,” you and Yuji answer simultaneously.

“She showed me part of the world,” you muse with admiration. “Some would say we were bumming it. But we just had fun along the way.”

“Yeah and then you had to go and get married,” Yuki almost says with a hint of annoyance.

You lean towards her to point out a fact. “We still traveled after that, Master.”

Yuki shrugs lazily. “We never had the same fun though,” she whines, a truth you had yet to hear.

You stick out your tongue and then roll your head away to look at your drink. Silence comes through, but you don’t let it last long.

“We’re going to play a game, okay? It’s not a drinking game,” you let Yuki know already before she gets her hopes up. “It’s just a question game. We ask questions and answer honestly.”

“Huh? What kind of game is that?” Yuki complains.

“Just…play it,” you press between gritted teeth before you drop your irritation with a deep breath and peer over at the people beside you. “What do you want out of life? It can be a year from now, months, a decade, or even five years from now. Just say what you want.”

Both Choso and Yuki let out a pensive breath, and in their silence, your answer already comes to you without struggle because it’s something you pondered over lately.

“Well,” Yuki is the first to break the silence. “I don’t know, maybe teach someone else. I think that’d be fun, I enjoy passing on my knowledge,” she shares thoughtfully. “Or complete my study on those born without cursed energy but have a heavenly restriction.”

“So Maki Zen’in?” You interject, earning the attention of her big brown eyes.

“Exactly. Now,” she trails off and leans towards you on the tabletop. “You.”

She’s aiming for a specific answer, you can see it through her wide charming smile, but you don’t give her the satisfaction, you don’t let your heart win just yet.

“Well,” you sigh and fiddle with the straw in your drink. “I want to go to Mexico. I hear the beaches there are beautiful. I think going there will be fun,” you share honestly, but it’s one truth to disguise your true desire.

Yuki is smart albeit, she learned to read you the first year you trained with her. She quickly tries to unmask you. “Spit it out. That’s bullcrap.”

Choso looks at you and Yuki slightly stunned simply over the fact that Yuki could read that off you without you needing to change the way your expression currently rests. He can read you, he’s starting to know what you feel with a simple look in your eyes because of how much time you spent in the silence of each other's company, but he has yet to learn this.

“Okay,” you hesitantly give in just because of the intimacy of the moment. “But if you laugh I will stop sharing.”

“Pft,” she blows you off as if she doesn’t have the tendency to do that shit.

“Well,” you start off timidly. “I…want to have more kids.” You begin to smile at the possibility of your future. “I had fun growing up with my brother. I want Satori to have that too. I don’t want her to grow up alone.”

You take a peek at the pair beside you and see Choso clutching onto his drink with his jaw clenched and his eyes spaced out in his drink. While Yuki tries to fight off something snarky to say.

And her stifled reactions does make you want to stop right there, but you decide not to be so petty and continue. “I also enjoyed carrying her, and I just love watching her grow up. I loved the baby stage too, so I want to go through that again.”

“And who will be the father of these babies?” Yuki can’t hold back. It was killing her. “Are you turkey basting? Or,” she rolls out teasingly and shifts her eyes to point them at the man beside her, but you snap Choso out of his stupor by slapping your cup on the table and then blurting.

“Actually I was thinking of asking your dad, Yuki,” you quip sassily, making her scowl—“don’t you want siblings?”

“Funny, I hate your jokes,” she grumbles and takes a drink from her alcoholic beverage.

You snicker and drop your gaze on Choso as you were on your way to refocus on your drink, and actually notice that his eyes are filled with what you read as slight nervousness.

What about though you wonder but don’t ask. You just take a drink yourself before you share one more desire. “I've also been thinking of establishing an orphanage in the community,” you whisper. “I want to help sorcerer children just like…the twins. Sorcerer children abandoned by their families or mistreated by non-humans.”

Tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let yourself cry, you smile with hope instead, gaining a first response from Choso.

“That’s nice, y/n.”

“Hm. Now,” you swiftly drive the focus to him considering he’s the only one who needs to answer. “You. What do you want? And yes I know you're unsure about your future, but amuse us for tonight.”

Choso holds your gaze for a moment before that faint smile slowly falls and he worries you with a growing depressed look he aims ahead of him.

“I have a question actually,” he interjects with sorrow laced in his nonchalant tone. “Is that okay?”

Yuki and you share a concerned look before she assures him. “Of course.”

Choso picks up his drink but he doesn’t take a sip, he just holds his cup and goes ahead with his question. “Am I…”human”?”

You blink repeatedly with surprise and share one more quick concerned look with Yuki before you can’t help but look at Choso with pity.

“When my little brothers incarnated I realized their abnormal bodies meant “humans” would never accept them. That’s why I decided we should live as “curses.” That’s why I killed people in Shibuya, I killed a lot of people. And it wasn’t just people I killed. The one who killed Eso and Kechizu was me.” He shares a guilt-filled thought that had been running through his head ever since Shibuya, and your heart aches for him at the sound of his anguish.

His guilt and concerns have been touched upon since you’ve helped him ease some of them, but it wasn’t enough to completely satisfy him. After all, you know more than most that guilt and insecurity grown from issues like that are far too deeply rooted, it takes time to really get rid of them. All you want now is for him to see what you do…

“If I’d chosen to live as a “human” back then. My brothers wouldn't have had to kill each other,” he continues with his voice beginning to grow shaky. “Why…why then…why did I—Why did I choose the easy way out?” He can’t help but cry.

“Choso,” you whisper with sorrow and pity.

“I didn’t want to see…I didn’t want to see them in pain from living as “humans”.” He adds tearfully. “Even though they weren’t weak. You can guess what happened next. And like some divine punishment, Yuji appeared. Yuji, who is in pain from living as a “human”. I’m sure our fate was for the four of us to fight together. But,” he sniffles. “Just because I wanted an easier life, Yuji was left alone.”

“If you die,” Yuki shares seriously. “He’ll be alone again.”

She put it in a kinder and quieter way, but it’s similar to what you told him too. And you know it won’t help right away, but you hope it eases some of that anguish he feels. After all, she has a way to assure people with her advice. At least you feel it that way.

“You’re kind, Tsukumo,” Choso mutters as he wipes the tears off his cheeks. “But I can’t,” he keeps insisting, tearing at your heart. “I killed a lot of people for no reason. I no longer have the right to live alongside Yuji…or my friend,” he finishes in a whisper and looks at you as he utters those last words.

Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t mask your disbelief.

“Choso,” you whisper and he looks away out of shame.

You could bring up your previous argument, and the fact that he said he’d try, but he’s still too tangled in his guilt and his grief, he still doesn’t think he has the right to live, so your argument won’t work this time. No matter how much you want to fight him. So you try a different approach filled with just as much desperation. “Can I give my opinion?”

“Please,” Choso sniffles and follows by wiping away more tears, making you hand him a napkin from the counter.

“Thanks.”

“I think that you chose the easy way out because that’s the only way you thought you could protect your brothers,” you begin to say and just occasionally glance away, but you don’t keep your gaze away for long so he knows you’re being serious.

“You decided to help Yuji and dedicated yourself to him after you barely found him, and after you discovered your father lied on top of that. You stayed here to fight your dad out of revenge. And Choso,” you say sweetly and lean closer to him to take his hand in yours, making his eyes snap to your gentle touch before he glances back at you as you continue just as sweetly and desperately.

“All that makes you human. I mean,” you laugh softly. “You’re here sharing with guilt hanging off each word and tears in your eyes. You’re showing emotion. That makes you human. You’re so beautifully human.”

More tears crawl down his already tear-stained cheeks and he’s left with nothing to say in return. He could give you his gratitude or say how sweet you’re being, but he’s already told you that and he doesn’t want to sound like some broken record and exhaust you, (even if you’d never grow tired of hearing it), so instead he refuses to let your hand go and squeezes back.

You offer him a gentle smile before you surprise him by resting your head on his shoulder and using your other hand to caress his arm.

You’ve never done that before, it catches him off guard, but he immediately feels comforted by it and you, so he sits incredibly still so as to not make you move. He does feel bad though that he killed the atmosphere, neither you nor Yuki talk after. He waits and hopes it’ll change, but the bar stays quiet, so he parts his lips to apologize but suddenly you leave his hand alone as you sit up.

“Come,” you direct at him. “Dance with me.”

You grab him by his wrist and tug him, but he resists. “I'm not good.”

You scoff and wave him off. “I’ll lead, come dance with me at least one song, please.” You bat your lashes and he doesn’t really protest any longer, he lets you pull him to the empty space in front of the stage before you break away and pick, “There is Something on Your Mind by Big Jay McNeely,” from the Jukebox.

“Now,” you add excitedly and grab his hands to put them on your hips, causing him to immediately stiffen. “It’s okay,” you let him know and rest your hands around his neck. “Now we dance.”

You sway to the music and to avoid stepping on you he watches the way you move your feet.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage him and tilt your head to meet his gaze. “Just relax.”

Choso hesitates before he lets himself focus on your face and the pretty smile you hold.

“Besides our previous conversation, have you enjoyed this atmosphere?” You ask him.

“Well,” he says with a sigh. “It’s just the four of us so I can say I do, but it’s different out there.”

You shrug. “Depends where you go. If you want to go somewhere with loud music and dim lights then a club is for you. I got to tell you though I am old now, I cannot party like that anymore.” You laugh and he shakes his head before he retorts.

“You’re not old. Try being 150.”

You chuckle, making his lips twitch to a smile.

“I don’t think I’ll make it that far,” you say. “But you know what? You’re that old so maybe like an old home is for you. You can play tabletop games and…I don’t know…what do old people do? Tell me.”

“We play tabletop games,” he points out nonchalantly.

You try to come up with a defense but he’s beyond right. Actually, you haven’t even finished a match you started at lunch.

“And I proved my point, I’m old,” you counter playfully.

Choso rolls his eyes and shakes his head, while you begin to grin.

“You’re a natural,” you point out and pass a playful pointed look. “You lied. Who taught you to dance? Tengen?”

Choso chuckles softly. “No,” he corrects you. “When Mahito gave me my body I knew things that I never learned or lived through. It’s weird but it helps being caught up and not being so clueless.”

“Ah, so he taught you to dance?” You joke, making him complain.

“Tsk.”

You show off a cheeky smile, and he hides his growing smile by tilting his head down, bringing forth a comfortable silence as he steals time to breathe in the hypnotizing scent of your perfume and appreciate the comfort that he can have you close to keep you protected. While you take your time to press yourself closer to him to embrace him as you continue to dance and take advantage of the fact that you can be close without needing to fight yourself.

It makes you wish for an infinite amount of moments like this one with him, but you knew the reasons why you couldn’t, they flashed in your head like a red alarm light. So you have nothing else left to do but just really memorize this moment and save it for times when you can’t handle what life has to offer you.

“I have a joke for you,” Choso slowly brings up timidly.

You pull back and smile. “Okay, I want to hear it. I do love jokes, you know that.”

Choso swallows thickly and manages to meet your gaze to share the joke he made Itadori tell him so he could tell you.

“Uh, what did the triangle say to the circle?”

You knew this joke, it was kind of a basic one, but you let him believe otherwise so he can tell it.

“Uh,” he grows quieter and hesitant, even more so when he sees the way you look at him with a soft waitful gaze. “You’re pointless.”

A wobbly smile tugs on your lips before you burst out laughing and lean your forehead on his shoulder.

He didn’t think you’d find it amusing, he thought you’d find it a bit lame so he’s been hesitant to share it, and even now he was nervous as he waited for your reaction, but he’s relieved to hear you laugh. He can't help but laugh softly with you. But he mostly just watches you with a proud smile.

“That,” you say between laughs. “Was good. That was very good.” You face him with a smirk. “Where’d you hear it from?”

He releases his stress with a small breath and responds, “I asked Yuji, he struggled but he looked it up on his mobile—phone.”

Your smile grows timid and the fact that he searched for a joke to tell you makes your face grow hot.

“Did you like it?” He makes sure to ask.

“I loved it,” you quickly assure him and realize that the song comes to an end, bringing you both to a stop. “Now should we have another round?”

He puts his hand up and shakes his head eagerly. “No, no, thank you.”

“Let’s do it! I'm dying over here!” Yuki exclaims, making you run over to be at her side now and do what you suggested without Choso this time. But it’s not like it really matters because he does join in your conversations and tries to participate in the games Yuki and you know.

Now there aren't a lot of you, but you do have fun and enjoy each other's company. For that moment you all forget what you’re there to do, you’re just a couple of friends having fun. That fact wraps you up until you’re alone outside trying to get ahold of your daughter before you go to bed since it should be morning over there.

Nevertheless, it goes straight to voicemail every single time, and that’s weird because she never misses a call. And if for some reason she can’t answer, Belinda does, this time neither of them answer.

You try to wait a few minutes because maybe they got caught up doing something, but when the moment passes no call comes through. You just get a single text from Belinda.

Belinda: Sorry the phone isn’t working, I can only text from the tablet. Satori is okay.

You reread the message and wonder why she didn’t let you know before since she called you just fine before they went to bed.

Then again maybe it just happened, so you calm yourself down and respond.

You: Oh, okay. Well, maybe she can send voice messages or videos?

Only a few seconds pass before you get a quick and short response.

Belinda: Yeah I'll tell her, let’s see if she wants to.

Sometimes Satori does march at the beat of her own drum, but you doubt she’d deny trying to talk to you.

Unless she's mad that you’ve been apart for so long? Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to talk to you…but Belinda would’ve spilled that information if that’s what was going on, all she’s sent is quite dismissive texts.

You: Is she upset? Is that what’s wrong?

You have to ask her out of worry.

But Belinda quickly contradicts you.

Belinda: No, she’s in a good mood. Don’t worry. I’ll tell her to send something later.

You sigh deeply and have no choice but to be okay with it. You can’t do anything from thousands of miles away.

You: All right. Tell her I love her. I’ll call in the morning. I love you guys xoxo

You wait on your phone for a response but all you see is the little ‘seen’ sign. Which…shouldn’t worry you. This dismissive behavior shouldn’t worry you. It’s nothing, you’re just obviously growing anxious. That’s all.

“Y/N?” You hear your name coming from Choso’s mouth, so you peer back and smile as you watch him approach your side.

“Choso,” you greet him as if you didn’t just see each other.

“Did you get a hold of her already?” He asks.

You look back ahead and sigh out of distress. “She couldn't talk. The phone isn’t working, so no.”

You wait for him to sit at your side before you have to voice your concern. “Do you think I’m overthinking this? The phone doesn’t work and all I got was dismissive texts and the excuse that she’ll try and have her send something later. Should I be worried?”

Choso sighs deeply and follows your line of gaze to the beautiful full moon to share his genuine answer. “I’m not a parent, I—”

“But you are a brother,” you cut him off to press him to give you some comfort or feed into your worry. “If Itadori was the way I just explained, would you worry?”

Choso blinks and meets your red-orange eyes filled with worry and tries his best to answer. “Yes. But you trust the woman taking care of your daughter, right?”

You nod with no hesitation.

“Then I think you shouldn't worry,” he says. “Your daughter is probably okay.”

Probably isn’t what you seeked for, but he’s right. You trust Belinda more than anyone in this world, she’d never hide crucial information regarding your daughter. Her phone just doesn't work, that's all…

“I think I’m just stressed,” you laugh nervously and want to rub your face, but you remember you have makeup on

so you just throw yourself back and admire the dancing stars overhead. “Why are you out here?” You finally ask Choso what you were curious about. “I thought you went to bed?”

“I…was, but I wanted to check on you,” he shares hesitantly as if almost afraid that you were going to be upset that he couldn’t seem to leave you alone, but instead you smile and contradict his worry.

“Good I'm glad you did. I really hate being alone,” you reveal as if it isn’t a big deal when it is to you.

Choso can’t depict between touching on it or not as you just mention it so nonchalantly though. You don’t look upset, but you would comfort him, you’d know what’s upsetting him, and he wants to be that way too. He wants to comfort you too, not knowing that his presence is enough to satisfy you.

Albeit before he can attempt to touch on the matter, you sit up and interject. “You never answered my question at the bar, Cho. What do you want out of life? I mean.” You roll your eyes. “Hypothetically if you make it out of the fight. What do you want?”

He avoided answering this question before because there were other people in the room and his response was something meant just for your ears, but he’s here with you now, and the moon. He could tell you his deepest desire and share the realization that he had the other day when you fought for him to live.

You looking at him with your pretty eyes glimmering with the moonlight's reflection makes it hard for him to form words in his mind, but what he needed to tell you was already engraved deep inside his heart and just waiting to be shouted out.

“Do you want,” you break the silence to try and help him. “A farm with sheep? They're quiet. Or a rice farm? A cabin in the woods? Do you want to leave the country with your brothers? Or have a playboy lifestyle?” You wiggle your eyebrows and laugh softly.

A smile tugs on his lips in response, but it slowly falls as he parts his lips and looks at you with a soft and tender look of admiration and…love.

“You,” he blurts, making you slowly fill with confusion. “I want to live a life with my brothers,” he continues and dares himself to scoot closer to you. “I want to see them be happy and live a peaceful life, but every time I dream of that future I see you there too…”

Oh no…

“…you’re precious to me y/n,” he continues, and you can’t hold your smile or reflect that glimmer in your eyes anymore. He doesn’t notice that yet though as he goes on saying such sweet words. “You’ve been special to me since the first time I saw you last year. You’re all I could think about in that darkness. And I still may be clueless about a lot of stuff, but I do know that I want to keep what's precious to me close to my heart. And that’s my brothers and you. And your daughter of course.”

No, no, no…damn it.

He included her too. He doesn’t leave her out. He thinks about the most important person to you too.

But why does he have to say it all?! His confession and his desire?

Why did he have to say this? Why?!

Damn…

“That’s what I desire,” he fails to notice your distress. “You.”

Tears fill your eyes and a pitiful smile appears on your contorting face. “Oh, Choso,” you coo. “You’re so sweet…”

He smiles as he doesn’t see that you’re about to break his heart and add a tension to the comfortable relationship you had.

“But…I’m not the person you think I am,” you try to go easy on him and actually explain your reasoning. “I’m not a good person. I’ve done bad things. Horrible things that are far from redeemable, and you,” your voice quivers. “You’re precious. Your heart is pure and beautiful, even after the things you’ve done.”

Choso didn’t understand you at first, but he’s starting to know now so the soft light in his eyes flickers and the tenderness grows hard as he’s slowly falling in disbelief.

“And I don’t deserve that,” your voice breaks. “And you don’t deserve to share your life with such a monster. You deserve someone pure…good. Like you.”

Choso’s eyebrows pinch together and he wants to counter by sharing his disbelief grown by the way you’re talking about yourself. Partially because you’re rejecting him, but it’s mostly because he doesn’t see you the way you see yourself.

However, you grab his hands and cup them in between yours to continue adding arguments. “Even if I did let my heart have what it wants, what would I do when you sacrifice yourself? Because that’s your plan,” you remind him of something that’s still tearing at your heart. “And I can’t go through that again. I lost the man I loved and it left me empty. I barely recovered, and if I go through it again with you, I don’t think I could pick myself up again. So it’s better this way. Me and you as we are.” You nod even if deep inside you don’t agree with a thing you said.

“But,” Choso mutters as he's grown upset now. Not sad—well he does feel sad that this didn’t go like he wanted, but he’s mostly upset that you’re selfish enough to disregard what he feels about this argument.

“What—”

“No,” you cut him off with a watery but pointed look. “Please don’t. I know what I am,” you say as if you had looked in his mind. “I know what I’ve done. I’m sorry. I really am. I hope we can remain friends because you’re precious to me too, Choso. I don’t want to spend whatever time we have left upset with each other.”

You offer him a wobbly smile and he leans in and says your name loudly and with frustration that catches you off guard. He’s never spoken to you this way before.

Albeit you do muster the strength to interrupt him

once again so this doesn’t escalate and your heart doesn’t end up winning and accepting his proposal. “Choso, don’t. I don’t regret what I did, I’m a bad person, and I don’t want to go through that agony again. it’s gonna be hard enough already, so please, please stop. Please, I beg of you.”

Choso inhales sharply and wants to just ignore you and give an argument to all you just said, but you’re asking so desperately and yet so sweetly. Plus you’re right. If he dies he doesn’t want you to suffer. He loves you. He doesn't want you to be in pain when he’s gone, so even if it pains him he doesn’t argue. He simply nods which makes you feel terrible, but you can’t stay here any longer after his confession, so you offer him a thankful smile before you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

You don’t move away right away, you stay with your cheek pressed against as you give your heart this one satisfaction of feeling the warmth of his cheek and memorizing the taste of his flesh on your wet lips. You draw in the scent of his musk infused with a soft cologne to have it dance in your nose to continue bringing you comfort until it’s gone and instead under lock and key in your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and tilt your head back slightly to keep close to him as your lips ache to taste his lips that shift closer to you as he moves his head to face you. “I really am.”

Choso watched your lips move, and couldn’t help but part his lips as he couldn't focus on anything else.

You try to pull away but you keep your mouth where it is since you can’t tear your eyes away from his lips. You just want to lean in so badly, they’re screaming to be kissed. And what makes matters worse is that you actually let him give into his instinct to lean closer, leaving just a hairsbreadth of space between his lips and yours.

But…

But! You can’t kiss him no matter how much you both desire it, because if you do you'll lose your fight and your argument will be null. Plus, you can’t risk hurting if he dies, so you pull back and just throw him a brief goodnight before you storm to your room and fall on your bed to think about what just happened.

You shouldn’t though, you know that. You need to focus on what’s to come and forget what just occurred to make it easier on you.

Albeit your mind actually fights you now and sides with your heart. But you push, and push Choso away and win back your mind's support and shove away what just happened and the emotions he stirs up back in a vault. Instead, you force all your focus back on Kenjaku and the threat that he is.

You can’t think about Choso anymore. You need to forget what you feel. You can’t give in to your heart's desire. You can’t and you won’t…

——

Kenjaku came unexpectedly a couple of days later as it was expected right at 12 am. It means that the inevitable you’ve been training a week for is about to happen and you’re tempted to say something stupid to Choso as he goes on his way to meet his father. After all, you could lose him forever.

It's true that he's only been in your life for 16 days—it’s felt like it’s been years really, but it’s only been a couple of weeks and a few days, and you could lose him forever after tonight. So you want to just be stupid and confess what you’ve kept guarded in hopes that that will encourage him to fight to live.

But you can’t. Not even now. So all you muster is another excuse in hopes that will encourage him. “Yuji is out there, he needs his brother. So just try.”

Choso comes to a brief stop before you and meets your gaze with soft reassurance. He’s not petty or mad over your rejection—actually, he never showed any sign of being upset at you after that night, you made it awkward most of the time, but he was never rude.

He was kind and nonchalant, like now.

“I will try.”

You nervously hold your hands together and don’t avoid holding his gaze right now. Not like you’ve been doing for the past couple of days, you look deep into his rich brown eyes that look as if they were always touched by the sun, and can't hide the worry from your eyes. Yet you can’t express it.

You part your lips and he stands there. Not to wait, he stands there to let his mind engrave every inch of you to keep an image of you close to his heart just in case he does meet his fate. When he’s sure every aspect of you is recorded he moves on past you.

Now you should go ahead and meet up with Tengen and Yuki while you wait your turn, but you stay frozen to your spot watching the empty space Choso left behind as you try to avoid looking back. Because if you do you’ll only hurt more, it’ll be like giving in to what you feel. And it’s true that you’ll watch him as he confronts his father, Tengen can display that for Yuki and you so you can know what Kenjaku is countering with and plan around that, but it’s not the same. He won’t be in the same room, his presence won’t be in the same room, and you’ll just be stressing out. So you give in and look back.

And without knowing Choso peers back and you meet each other's gaze.

“Be careful,” you interject without overthinking your response.

Choso nods. “I’ll try. And if I don’t make it out of here can you take my brothers with you?” He entrusts in you.

You turn around completely and assure him without a moment of hesitation. “Of course I will.”

Choso lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he turns away and finally disappears to face his father, leaving you stranded there alone riddled with nauseating worry. You only move away from that spot because you need to know what’s going on to not be eaten alive by your nerves, otherwise, you probably would have stayed there waiting for you to go next.

However, perhaps it was a mistake joining the other two because you walk into Yuki changing into her battle clothes that…look the exact same as the normal clothes she was just wearing.

“Is there a difference?” You remark while she quickly slides on her shirt.

“Yes!” She exclaims. “This one has the Jujutsu High medallion here.”

You fold your arms over your chest and quirk a brow as you pass her a judgmental look. “Why would you wear that?”

She finally gets her hands through her sleeves and pierces her big brown eyes in you. “Don’t you?” She queries.

“Pft,” you blow out and laugh. “No, I threw that away the day I defected. And you’ll never catch me wearing it again.”

“Hmph well there is a difference, this is the difference.”

You sigh and turn away from her to look at a blank wall. “Show it,” you demand from Tengen. “Please.”

“Very well,” he gives in. “But nothing is happening as of yet.”

Regardless, a screen appears on the wall and you can’t help but smile softly when Choso comes on looking completely irritated with his father, who actually startles you. Not because he’s menacing but because he is in your husband's body, and for a second in time you forget and think it’s him. Just for a second because you then realize and feel nothing but hatred and disgust.

“Where’s Tengen?” You hear Kenjaku ask while he glances around the arena.

Choso’s lips slowly tug to a smirk before he scoffs and quips. “That talking thumb doesn’t want to see you.”

“Who’s a thumb?” Tengen mutters under their breath very human-like.

“Guess you’re not well-liked,” Choso adds, making your lips flicker on an amused smile before your worry reigns over again.

“Then I suppose you’re disposable fodder,” Kenjaku counters. “Please do try your best.”

There’s a bit of amusement behind those words and it does nothing to assure your worry over Choso’s fate. Kenjaku just plans to play with him.

“He’ll live. He’s half a curse, he’s resilient,” Yuki tries to ease your worries.

You reach back to scratch the chin of the worm-cursed spirit draped around your shoulders and mutter out, “I hope you’re right.”

“The culling game has already served its purpose, the preparations for the merger of all non-sorcerers in Japan have ended.”

No way…you just talked to Hakari and Kirara the other day, they were doing well. Hakari had fought some old sorcerer brought back to life and kind of won. They were both too excited to tell you to explain anything clearly. You do know that Hakari learned to use RCT though! It was because he got gravely injured, but he learned and you couldn’t be prouder!

So they have to be okay. They all have to be okay. You need to believe that right now.

“Either way, if I seize Tengen here, then it’s your loss, the country will meet its end. The whole world will.” Kenjaku shares, for what reason? To throw you all off a bit? Perhaps. Or just to hear his own voice.

“Let me show you one possible conclusion to this affair.”

Oh gosh, now why does he need to waste time doing that? If it’s happening or not, why does it matter at this instant? Does he really love the sound of his voice that much? Why can’t he just fight to get this all over with?

“You’ve known Kenjaku for a long time, right Tengen? Has he always been so self-obsessed?” You break the intense silence while Kenjaku changes the arena he and Choso are in into a theater room.

“Yes,” they take no time to think it back. “Always. It’s why he’s here so many years later.”

You roll your eyes and pull a chair to rest on while you can as you continue to watch over them.

“In Shibuya, Yuki Tsukumo explained that merging with Tengen, which I’d prefer to call optimizing cursed energy, means becoming a sorcerer….”

“Yawn!” Yuki exclaims.

You snicker. “You said it.”

Please! He just keeps yapping about things he’s already mentioned before, just in a more exhausting way. You don’t know how Choso can sit there listening to him just blabber on and on.

However, as you watch him though, you see him look rightfully annoyed and bothered, but you don’t know how he can just listen. You don’t, you just tune Kenjaku out until you finally pick up on something interesting.

“…The way she thinks is close to my own.”

You snicker and Yuki groans in disgust.

“Anyways I’ve gotten off topic,” Kenjaku finally realizes, letting you finally sit up once again to keep listening. “From the beginning, I even considered the potential of cursed spirits as an option alongside sorcerers. Perhaps a new form of cursed energy could be born from advancing cursed spirits to a higher level. Because of that, I had high hopes for half-breeds between cursed spirits and humans like you. What a disappointment, you were all too ordinary,” he says without shame and it ticks you off.

How could he say that as a parent? In front of his own son too?

You know hateful parents like him exist everywhere but it always surprises you to see it firsthand. Especially because Choso is your friend, and you know how feels about how his father treated him and his brothers.

“If you talk about my little brothers again. I’ll kill you without waiting for the sideshow to end,” Choso spats in defense of his brothers, making you smirk proudly.

“Fine, fine,” Kenjaku sighs and sits up to finally get to the point. “After evolving, Tengen will be more like a cursed spirit than human. So if all the non-sorcerers in Japan merge with Tengen, I think it’ll become a cursed spirit bearing the cursed energy of a hundred million people. Maybe it’ll be like Uzumaki and capable of extracting something too,” he says thoughtfully and with a hint of fascination of what can be a possibility.

A possibility that plays out on the screen of the theater room like a terrifying apocalypse film—flashing scenes of people all around Japan getting their bodies mangled shows and terrifying never never-before-seen curses pop up like a jumpscare.

“I wonder what it will look like…” Kenjaku muses and you furrow your eyebrows and look at the screen in slight fear of what can be a possibility, and irritation mostly. You still don’t care about non-sorcerers, your hatred has dwindled, but you still don’t care for them. Yet what he wants will end the world as you know it. You can’t stand behind that, and the fact that he says it all so casually pisses you off.

“Right now, I feel like a kid…holding a crayon in front of a blank piece of paper,” he finishes and the screen goes black as the lights all go off in the theater before the walls and everything around them transform back to the arena with the single tree in it.

“What exactly do you want?” Choso sneers with heightened anger now, but Kenjaku doesn’t see that, or care for it, he looks back at him annoyed.

“Did you not just understand anything I just said?” He spats.

“No,” Choso argues between gritted teeth. “I’m asking you. What do you get from this?! What is it that motivates you?!” He raises his voice.

Kenjaku’s annoyance falls and he looks at Choso almost with a smile on his face.

“I’m fascinated,” he reveals, raising your own irritation to full-blown anger.

“I just think it’ll be fascinating,” Kenjaku continues. “But I won’t know for sure until it happens.”

So this is all a gamble for him?

He’s so sick.

“On top of that, if the accumulated cursed energy of a hundred million people is just a laughable clown face, then what would you do?” He says nonchalantly as if what he’s saying isn’t all messed up. “I know I’d laugh.”

He actually laughs. That bastard laughs like it's all a joke, but that’s what finally triggers Choso to start the fight by clapping his hands together out in front of him with his face completely contorted to raging anger.

“Wait, wait,” Kenjaku interjects and puts his finger out. “Before you do that.” He laughs again. “I have something I want to show you all. I know the others are here too. Somewhere. So I want to show you something.”

Choso doesn’t drop his guard, he keeps his hands out and stays ready to shoot his piercing blood.

“This is mainly a little something for y/n,” Kenjaku says making you stand up from your seat to narrow your glare on the screen.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Suguru’s four-winged pelican cursed spirit breaks through the barrier and enters the arena, meaning what?

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

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eomayas · 9 months

Text

new thing (pt. 4) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst, fluff

synopsis: reader is in her feelings, and so is chanyeol.

warnings: p in v, riding, unspoken feelings, unrequited feelings, reader is in her feelings, minor arguments, reader has a few unexplored insecurities, reassuring chanyeol

a/n: oh this is kinda a filler chapter ngl but it is essential to the story (in my opinion!) thanks for the patience, and i hope you like this one even tho it’s kinda short and it’s been awhile :) hella unedited btw

chanyeol sees your attitude before he experiences it. he sees it in the way you walk towards his car, hears it in the way you slam the car door and yank your seatbelt across your chest. you don’t say anything to him, not even hello, and he watches you for a moment and waits to see if you’ll change your mind. when you don’t, he shakes his head slightly and sighs. “can we just go?” you snap, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“you can’t even say hi?” he asks, looking over at you. you stare out his windshield, not focusing on anything just not looking at him. “hi, y/n.” he says exaggeratedly.

“hi, chanyeol! can we just go, please?” you say frustratedly. you grip onto the seatbelt and press yourself into the door.

chanyeol stares over at you, confused at why you’re acting the way you are, growing tired of it quickly. “y/n, what’s wrong?” he finally asks.

“why can’t you answer your phone? i’ve called and texted you all day,” you say, your voice coming out more whiny than you intended. you feel silly and weak being upset over your calls going unreturned and your texts going unanswered, but it’s been all day. he didn’t even give you the curtsey of letting you know that he was busy.

“i was working, y/n, you know that,” chanyeol reasons, his face etched with irritation.

“you could have texted that you were busy! you didn’t even call—how am i supposed to know what you’re doing if you don’t call?” you reply, getting equally as aggravated as him. the tension between you two is thick. maybe you’re overreacting—you don’t know.

“damnit, y/n, i’m a grown ass man, and when i tell you i’m at work, i mean it. maybe you’re used to these other guys lying about where they are, but i don’t do that,” chanyeol isn’t yelling, but he might as well be with the way he reprimands you. “this is childish—you’re acting childish right now. stop it.” you clench your jaw at the name calling. he’s right, though. he doesn’t ever give you reasons to think he’s anywhere other than where he says he is.

“don’t call me childish, chanyeol,” you say, sounding like a little kid telling their bully to stop. except yours an adult woman, and chanyeol isn’t your bully.

“well thats how you’re acting. now, i’m sorry that you felt like i was ignoring you. can we just start over? i don’t want to argue,” he says and you feel embarrassed at his maturity and your lackthereof, because you can’t apologize as easy and seamlessly as he just did.

a sigh leaves your lips as a response and chanyeol scoffs, putting the car in drive and taking off. he shakes his head at your attitude but doesn’t say anything else, just turns the music up to drown out the silence between the two of you.

chanyeol doesn’t even say anything when he gets to the gas station and goes inside to pay. he leaves you in the car wordlessly and you sulk as you stare out of the passenger side window. you feel bad for being annoying to him. all you really want to do is enjoy the evening with him and his presence, but you’ve put a damper on the mood.

he gets back in the car and gently taps your arm with something cold. you look over and accept the drink he holds out for you. “thank you,” you say, setting it in the cup holder.

“mhm,” he says, and pulls out of the gas station. it’s back to silence, and you huff out a breath. everything in you tells you to apologize to him, but you’re embarrassed. with chanyeol, you always feel the need to impress him, or leave him with a lasting impression. maybe it’s because you’re not entirely sure of relationship, and the 10 year distance between the two of you. ever since you found out about his ex wife, you’ve had this weird chip on your shoulder, like you’re not totally ready for him, and that you’re some young play-thing for him, before he goes back to a woman his own age.

you’re afraid he’s going to get tired of you, and leave once he realizes that you’re not the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, that you’re not the settling down type. you’re afraid that you’ll drive him away, somehow, whether it epiphanic, or you finally pull the straw that breaks the camels back. you don’t know, but it sits in the back of your brain constantly. and by the silence, and the way he’s gripping onto the steering wheel, you’re losing points and backing him against a wall.

you stew in the passengers seat, eyes looking out the window but not focusing on anything. chanyeol glances at you every few minutes, wanting to say something but not being able to find the words.

the car comes to a stop and you finally look up, blinking in as you register your surroundings. chanyeol turns off the car and gets out and comes around your side to open your door, ever the gentleman even though there’s tension between the two of you. you even take his hand and let him lead you into the restaurant, and lean into his touch when his hand moves to the small of your back.

a hostess sits you two in a booth, and you sit opposite of each other. like always, you fall into what feels natural: chanyeol caging one of your feet in between his ankles and you leaning across the table to annoyingly share the menu. the only difference is that you two don’t hold hands, and chanyeol doesn’t kiss you when you lean forward.

you find what you’re going to eat and drink and lean back, awkwardly looking around the semi-busy restaurant. you can feel chanyeol looking at you, so you turn your head to him. “hi,” he says, gently kicking your shins and giving you a small smile.

“hi,” your waiter comes to your table, interrupting your small moment to take your drink orders. you two order and they leave. “i’m sorry.” you blurt, gently swinging your legs underneath the table. you gnaw at the inside of your cheek, hating the tension between the two of you.

the waiter comes back to drop your drinks off. “are we ready to order, or do we need more time?” chanyeol answers for the both of you, and so you order quickly to get them out of your way so you can continue your previous conversation.

“yeah.. i’m sorry,” you say again once the waiter is gone. chanyeol gives you a small smile and takes your smaller hands in his large ones,

“i know. it’s alright,” he says and you shake your head, gently tugging him towards you.

“no, it’s not. i know you’re busy, i just…” you let your words trail off, unsure of what you want to say. you just what? miss him? like him a little too much that it’s bordering on something more serious, more real and tangible that you’re afraid to really confront these feelings? because confronting them means that they’re true, and opens the door for them to be strictly one sided and unrequited?

chanyeol looks at you with kind eyes that urge you to keep going, but you don’t. instead, you gently shake your joined hands together. the words are on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be blurted out, or screamed—admitted. you know that once they’re out, they can’t be taken back. you don’t even know if that’s what you’re really feeling, you’ve never felt this way before, not this strongly, not this soon.

rather than finishing your sentence, you change the subject to him and ask him to tell you about his day. he’s eager to tell you, going in great detail about an EP he’s been working on with a singer and how it’s almost finished, it just needs final touches. you nod along, literal hearts in your eyes as you listen to him go on and on.

later, after chanyeol takes you to the studio, he drives the both of you back to his place. it’s still a bit awkward between the two of you, all the car rides being mostly silent except for a few small comments from either of you. when you were at the studio, you sat quietly on the couch and let him work, not saying much and staying out of his way. you don’t fully feel like you’re back on his good side, though he accepted your apology.

your tactic of keeping quiet so he can’t remember to be annoyed with you seems to be working. you’re so quiet in the studio, that when somebody walks in he nearly forgets to introduce you to them. you’d take offense, if you didn’t feel like you’ve ruined the night.

now the two of you are at his house, heading outside to his jacuzzi. you follow behind him, shivering when you step out into the cold air in only a bikini and slippers, and quickly dip into the hot tub. chanyeol slides in on the opposite side, a decent amount of distance between the two of you.

chanyeol closes his eyes and sinks down into the water until it covers his lips. you watch him, chewing on the inside of your lip. there’s a lot you’d rather be doing than simply just staring at him, but you hold yourself back, not wanting to overstep where you’re not welcomed.

“why are you sitting so far away?” he questions, running a hand through his hair. chanyeol holds his arms out to you, and your heart soars at him needing you, wanting you. you slide over to him, leaving a small gap of space between you two, and he pulls you onto his lap. “you’re being shy. what’s up?” he asks, arms circling around your waist.

“nothing,” you lie and he gives you a look.

“just tell me what’s up, baby,” he says and you want to throw yourself into the water until you need to come up for air. goosebumps form on your shoulders from being above the water, and chanyeol scoops up water onto them.

“i just feel like you’re mad at me,” you admit.

“i’m not mad at you—i never was,” he says and you sigh, giving him the look.

“yes, you were. you don’t have to lie,” you say, focusing your eyes on his neck. you drag your finger across his collarbones before sighing and resting your palms flat against his chest.

chanyeol circles his arms tighter around you. “i wasn’t mad; annoyed? yes, but never mad. i’m over it, you apologized—everything is fine. we’re fine,” he says. you shift your eyes up to his and purse your lips.

“okay,” is all you can say, not feeling 100% sure of his words.

“you can’t avoid me,” he says, kissing your nose. you can’t help but smile, not expecting him to notice.

“so you caught onto that,” you state, making him scoff.

“i notice everything,” chanyeol say matter-of-factly. you make a face and he gently pinches you. “it’s true! just because you think i dont, doesn’t mean you’re right.” he adds, bopping your nose and smiling when you wrinkle it.

“yeah, whatever,” you mutter, but your stomach is flipping and your pulse is going wild at his words. you know you shouldn’t doubt him, especially since he’s never given you a reason to, but sometimes you just can’t help your own insecurities.

chanyeol only smiles and kisses your cheek. you frown at him and he chuckles, asking “what?” like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“can i have a kiss?” you ask, sliding your hands up his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. he kisses you again, this time on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, down your neck…

“you can have more than that,” he mumbles against your skin, finally trailing kisses up, up, up, your lips his next target. chanyeol kisses you softly, one hand holding onto the back of your neck while the other splays against the small of your back. you melt into the kiss, grateful to finally have him on you again.

like all of the touches between the two of you, it gets heated quickly. chanyeols fingers pull at the strings of your bikini that wrap around your neck, letting your top fall forward and float around your waist.

he rolls your hardened nipples between his thumb and index finger before pulling away from you mouth to attach his lips to your chest. you let out a sigh and bury a hand in his hair as he licks and sucks at your chest. “yeol,” you breathe, tilting your head back and pushing your chest upwards and into his mouth.

you feel his memeber get hard underneath your ass, and you can’t help but grind down onto him. you roll your hips, the friction of his shorts making him twitch under your ass.

chanyeol pulls his mouth away from your chest and kisses your lips, undoing one of the ties of your bikini bottoms. you help him slide down his swimming shorts and waste no time sinking down on him.

bottoming out quickly, you kiss his neck as you adjust to the stretch that you still can’t quite get used to. chanyeol gropes one of your breasts as he (patiently) waits for you to start moving. once you get comfortable, you don’t hold back; you plant your feet on the jacuzzis bench and pull nearly all the way off of him before slamming back down and doing it all over again.

“fuck, y/n,” he mumbles, drawing his bottom lip in between his teeth. chanyeol rests the back of his neck against the edge of the hot tub, his eyes rolling back when you start making figure-eights on his dick. his fingers dig into your hips and he pulls the other string of your bottoms apart, pushing the article out into the water and letting it float away so he can feel you better.

chanyeol cant help but curse and moan out your name loudly. it only encourages you and makes you ignore the fact that your legs are starting to hurt and your brain is starting to go fuzzy. “fuckfuckfuck,” he grumbles, squinting to look up at you, loving the way you whimper every time you pull him out and sit back down on him. “baby.” he says, his voice slightly hoarse.

the sound shoots straight to your core and you clench around him, a wanton moan leaving your lips. “y-yes?” you hold onto his shoulders as you keep putting in work on top of him. chanyeol chases you lips and kisses you sloppily, his hands palming your ass and moving you up and down on him.

you pant as you feel that familiar white-hot burn in the pit of your stomach. “fuck, i-i-“ chanyeol cuts himself with a groan, pulling away from your lips. you dig your nails into his skin, crying out his name without fear of his neighbors potentially being outside and hearing the two of you. “i’m a-about to c-cum.” he pants, letting his head fall against the outside of the jacuzzi.

your vision goes spotty as you chase your release. you wind your hips on him, crying out his name. “baby, f-fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum,” you whimper, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you reach your climax. you clench around him, holding his dick in a vice-like grip. chanyeol comes almost directly after you, swearing the whole time and holding you close to him.

“y/n,” he pants, kissing under your ear as you lazily continue to grind on him. “i l-lo-“ his voice cuts out quickly, snapping shut and burying his face in your neck to hide his almost slip up, praying you didn’t catch it.

but of course you do. you movements falter, the rhythm of your hips getting lost in his words briefly. you want to say something, to ask him what he was going to say. but you also don’t want to risk getting embarrassed or getting ahead of yourself.

you know what he was on the verge of saying. you tell yourself that it was probably the heat of the moment, because you rode him the best you ever have in your entire relationship. it was lust talking—he doesn’t really feel that way about you.

you tell yourself this after you get out of the hot tub and shower together. you remind yourself of this when he fucks you again under the water, when he kisses you so tenderly, with so much passion that you feel like ripping your heart out of your chest and hand delivering it to him. you keep telling yourself this when he gives you clothes to wear and makes you dinner. when he takes you upstairs and spoons you until you both fall asleep. you tell yourself that he probably wasn’t even going to say what you think he was, when you wake up in the morning with his arm draped across you, and your legs entangled.

you keep telling yourself that it was the cusp of a freudian slip. you don’t bring it up to him, and he doesn’t mention it again, except when he nearly slips up again a few nights later when you’re play fighting on his couch and he pins you into the cushions. this time, his cheeks tinge and he quickly kisses you and removes himself from on top of you and magically has work to do. you sit there, dumbfounded, wishing he would just fucking say it, so you could finally say it back to him.

previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x you #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fic #chanyeol fanfic

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 months

Text

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: prologue.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | next chapter

In the summer of 1997 when I was 7, I almost drowned at the beach.

It was one of those summers where you watch a movie and things felt whimsical because you watched one movie about a group of kids going on a life-changing adventure you’d never go on yourself. You looked for magic in your daily life because even the smallest thing could be what led to you stumbling upon a new journey. My life-changing adventure movie? Free Willy, the movie about that foster kid and an orca. My aunt, a marine biologist, who showed me the movie always said the ocean was her greatest love. I got what she meant when I saw that movie. So that summer I spent at my aunt’s place in Enoshima was the summer I decided I’d go on some sort of adventure myself.

My expectation? Freeing Mina the beluga whale and swimming on her back to wherever the beluga whales came from. I would have even taken Kukki the dugong who I sometimes fed extra fish to when no one was looking.

What I actually got? Getting caught up in an undertow at Higashihama Beach.

Yeah, not my dream summer experience.

Undertow wasn’t a concept foreign to me at that time. Auntie warned me all about itー about how sometimes the currents below and above the surface went in separate directions.

“Don’t fight it when that happens,” she told me. “You’ll tire yourself out and drown. I know it’ll be scary but if you ever get caught in undertow, don’t fight. Go with the current and once it subsides, that’s when you swim back.”

That advice was far from my mind when I actually got caught in one though.

I screamed and thrashed and fought and fought, I probably pissed in the water twice too to boot.

And yet ー and I’m not entirely sure why ー a calm suddenly fell over me and I remembered Auntie’s words.

It would be scary, but don’t fight it.

Five minutes later, I swam back to shore and cried for ten minutes while my aunt held me.

Scary was one hell of an understatement.

I swore up and down I’d never go to the beach again. I never wanted to feel that scared again, never ever. My aunt didn’t disparage me for it, though. Didn’t tell me to toughen up. She simply took me to get shaved ice when I calmed down; said when you conquer your fear and come out on top, you should always treat yourself to something nice.

“It’s okay to be scared, [First],” she smiled softly. “Some people might say otherwise, but you know something, Auntie doesn’t think fear is a bad thing. Fear can be really good sometimes. Fear is what tells you not to do something that could lead to you getting hurt. It teaches you when not to do something stupid or dangerous. Sometimes, fear is what you should listen to instead of the ‘what if things actually go right’s. Fear only becomes bad when there’s too much of it. When you let being scared rule your life so you don’t live it.

“So it’s okay to be scared. Just promise auntie that you won’t let fear stop you from moving forward. Whether it’s rejection, worries a leap of faith will lead to you falling completely on your ass or that it might not be okay to say something when you know you should.

Live like you feel it and love like you mean it.

Don’t let the fear get to you.”

It took about a week before I was diving right back into the deep blue all over again.

Name: [Full Name] ♀ D/O/B: December 9, 1989 Age: 15

Sorcerer Lineage: Non-sorcerer lineage Enrollment method: Scouted

Recruiter: Yaga Masamichi

Notes: Student was encountered May 5, 2005

Testimony of the recruiter: At the site of Tsubame High School’s test of courage, a second grade curse appeared. [Last] activated her innate technique to protect herself and her fellow students and was able to keep the curse at a standstill until sorcerers arrived on the scene to exorcize the curse. While there were students injured, none of the injuries were fatal mostly due to [Last]’s quick application of her ability. According to the student, she began being able to utilize her innate technique around the age of 10.

Jujutsu

Student’s Innate Technique: Shields

“Rejection” Student’s abilities manifest as her cursed energy condensing into an object that rejects negative events outside of it effectively, creating shields of various sizes. This ability is one that is purely defensive and does not seem to have any offensive capabilities. As it stands, should the student make timely progress during the initial stages of her enrollment during this first year ー should she not disenroll or meet an untimely end ー it isn’t recommended to give her solo assignments.

Notes: “Rejection” is what the student in question chooses to refer to this ability as.

Interview Question Answer: “Why I want to enroll? Because I’m scared of this curse stuff.”

index | next chapter

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader #i cherish you halcyon days #shout to my girl orihime for the power inspo i love you bbygrl

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ahomeganeyatsu · 11 months

Text

Dan Heng x Caelus

Inspired by one of their text exchanges.

< />

He’s falling.

Dan Heng feels his breath catch before he realizes he’s running.

I won’t make it.

He doesn’t know where he finds the strength. He’s leaping, the wind carrying him further than he would have thought and reaches out.

He catches Caelus and holds on.

They land with a harsh thud. The wind dispels and the smoke clears. His hands are warm. Too warm in this frozen death of a planet.

“Dan Heng?” Gold eyes meet dark blues. He places a hand on that cheek. There’s a cut there, sluggishly bleeding and his thumb wipes it away.

“Don’t talk. Just… hang in there.” There’s a thunderous clap as he hears the titanic mechanism start to move. He wonders if Himeko could get in another shot. He doesn’t know how they’ll get out of this. They’ve dealt with stellarons before, but nothing quite like this.

“Dan Heng.” The gold’s starting to dull and there’s something cracking inside of Dan Heng.

“No. Stop it. Don’t push yourself. We’ll—” he chokes, he’s soaking in the warmth. It’s pooling beneath them and Dan Heng feels like drowning. “You’ll be fine. Just hang in there, Caelus.”

It’s a lie. Caelus knows this. Dan Heng knows this.

There’s so much red surrounding them. It’s stark against the snow. A flower blooming into a grotesque beauty. There’s no fixing this.

The world around them crashes and Dan Heng sits there with Caelus in his arms.

“Dan Heng!”

He jolts awake. The world is blurry and his mind tries to catch up with what’s happened. It takes time for his vision to focus and realizes he’s in the Astral Express’s archives. He’s in his room and he’s buried under files. It takes another second to realize he had been dreaming.

“Dan Heng, I’m coming in.”

“Wha— Wait, don’t!” Too late. With a whoosh the door opens, revealing Caelus. He’s only in his tank top and a pair of sweats that are riding low on his hips. His feet are bare. His hair is a little tousled. He had obviously been sleeping himself, but for some reason he’s here.

His eyes take in the mess and the concern in his eyes warm clear alive doubles. “Are you okay?” he asks as he makes his way towards him.

“I am. You didn’t have to check up on me. I was just sorting some records.”

Caelus hums as he takes some of them off of him and places them to the side. “I can see that,” he says. In his motion, one of the straps slides off his shoulders and Dan Heng catches sight of the discoloration.

“It doesn’t hurt,” the other tells him and it dawns on him that he had actually moved his hand to touch it. Caelus places his own hand on top of Dan Heng’s. He presses it closer and there’s the thud-thud-thud of a steadily beating heart.

Caelus' skin is warm against his fingertips.

He remembers seeing the scar the first time. The steam in the bath obscured most of it but that didn't cover how large the scar had been. Like starburst painted on Caelus' front and back.

“I’m okay,” the soft smile on Caelus’ lips draws him back into the present. Guiding him away from the dark hallways his thoughts tend to wander.

Liar, he wants to say, but swallows it down.

“Now,” he starts and pulls Dan Heng to his feet. “You should really stop staying up so late.” He tugs him to where his futon lies. It’s messy and still surrounded by books but Caelus says nothing about it. He clears a spot for himself and gets comfortable. Dan Heng just watches him. When he makes no move, Caelus shoots him a look. He pointedly pats the space next to him.

Sighing, Dan Heng starts toeing off his shoes. He takes off his coat and carefully folds it.

Caelus lets out a pleased sound and settles onto the futon. It’s a tight fit even if Pom-pom had changed it out once he’d learned Caelus sleeps in here sometimes.

He doesn't miss the irony of the situation. Not when he'd been adamant about reminding Caelus. And how everyone else had said one thing or another about how territorial he gets about the archives.

(There's a running joke about dragons and their hoards but Dan Heng pays no mind to it.)

He settles into sleep. When he's lying down, Caelus turns to his side facing him.

“Hi,” he greets him, a sleepy smile etched on the corner of his lips.

“Hi,” Dan Heng finds himself greeting back. For whatever reason, this makes Caelus giggle. He muffles it against Dan Heng’s pillow, but this close, Dan Heng hears it clearly. He wants to bottle it up. He huffs instead, and flicks the other’s forehead. “Sleep.”

Caelus scrunches his nose. “I should be the one telling you that,” his words taper off into a yawn, softening his grousing. He stares at Dan Heng, eyes slowly blinking until they finally close. “Night, Dan Heng.”

It doesn’t take long for Caelus to fall asleep.

It doesn’t take long for Dan Heng to follow.

If Caelus feels Dan Heng pull him close, he doesn’t say anything. If he feels a hand tracing the scar burnt on him, he holds it. And if Dan Heng wakes up with Caelus’ face tucked into his neck, chests flush against each other, their hearts beating in tandem, he counts their breaths and holds on to the moment.

#dan heng #caelus #dancae #hsr #hsr fanfic #rn writes #fanfic

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angelicyoongie · 2 years

Text

lovesick (VI)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6.7k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, general creepy behaviour — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

Previous - Next

“Y/n, the love of my life!”

You squeak as you’re pulled into a bone-crushing hug, strong arms dragging you inside of the apartment door you just knocked on. You let yourself be moved easily, melting into Jaemin’s embrace. You fill your lungs with the scent of his muted cologne, the fresh yet sweet smell soothing your frayed nerves.

“Ack, how will I ever recover from this betrayal!” Heejun whines, a hand poised dramatically on his forehead as he walks past the two of you.

You hear the apartment door close, two locks clicking firmly into place as it seals you off from the dangers of the world outside. Heejun presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head as he grabs the heavy plastic bags from your hands, the stretched material barely clinging together as he heaves it into his arms. Maybe you went a little overboard on the beer and the fried chicken, but it’s a night of celebration! It’s been too long since you last saw Jaemin, and you know from experience that he can eat his own bodyweight in greasy food if he wants to.

“I missed you.” Jaemin pouts as he steps back, giving you just enough space to rid yourself of your boots and coat.

He wastes no time in wrapping you back up in his arms once your outerwear is gone, pressing you against his chest as he lifts you off the ground. Your protests are drowned out by his amused laughter, your squirming toes brushing against the floor as he carries you into the living room. He puts you down on the couch, snorting at the stink eye you give him as he sinks down next to you.

Jaemin curls an arm around your shoulder as you lean into his side, patting your arm affectionately as you murmur, ”I missed you too.”

It’s only been a couple of weeks since the three of you last had a movie night, but it feels like a lifetime. There’s just something about Jaemin and Heejun that puts your mind at ease – it’s like a breath of fresh air to fall back into the normalcy of hanging out with them. You can almost pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary when you’re cuddled up with them on the couch, like your stalker doesn’t exist outside the walls of their apartment.

You’re all too aware that you might be putting them in harm's way by coming here, but Heejun has made it very clear that he will not get in way of the three of you spending time together. It was you that had to put your foot down and refuse to move in with them, not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew that suddenly changing up your living arrangement would not go over well with a delusional stalker. They might be safe for now, but you’re not willing to take any risks when it comes to the two of them. You’ll do anything to keep Heejun and Jaemin safe, even if that means you’ll have to sacrifice your own well being to do so.

“Hey, don’t start the cuddle pile without me!” Heejun pouts as he enters the room, the big dish in his hands filled to the brim with chicken.

You shake your head as you lean forward to clear the coffee table in front of you, amused as always at Heejun’s belief that everything will taste better if it’s plated nicely. It’s not like presentation will change the fact that it’s from a dingy fried chicken shop that may or may not be used as a front for criminal activity, but you suppose maybe that’s why Heejun is so insistent on plating it in the first place. That way you can pretend that you’re eating better food than you actually are. The chicken might come from a slightly nefarious background, but hey, at least the shop does a mean student discount.

You help Heejun get the table ready as Jaemin gets up to grab the beers you brought, the three of you falling into light conversation as you sit down to eat. You can feel the constant anxiety in the pit of your stomach lessening with each terrible joke that Heejun cracks, your sides aching with laughter as Jaemin recaps the terrible group project he’s been busy with over the past weeks. You almost choke on a piece of chicken as he describes how one of his peers had done a presentation on emetophilia instead of entomology, apparently not understanding that a vomiting kink was not the same as studying insects.

“It’s a zoology class! How could he get that so wrong?” Jaemin wails, traumatized, as he chugs the rest of his beer.

You collapse into Heejun’s lap as you laugh, his body shaking as he struggles to catch his breath between his wheezing giggles. He huffs as he tries to collect himself, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. The action makes you snort and it only takes a moment of silence before it sends you into another fit of laughter, one that even Jaemin joins in on. It’s really not that funny, but it’s something stupid and mundane, and just what you all need to forget the world for a minute or two.

You’re not sure how long it takes for the three of you to settle down, muffled chuckles escaping between bites of chicken as you all resume eating. You just feel so warm and happy squished between the two of them, their bodies pressed flush against yours on the small couch. You barely have enough room to move your food to your mouth, your elbows knocking into Jaemin and Heejun as you eat, but you wouldn’t change it for a thing.

You offer Heejun silent thanks as he nudges another beer into your hand, cradling the cold bottle between your fingers. Distracted by the pleasant alcohol-induced buzz in the back of your head, you watch as a drop of condensation races down the glass surface, clinging on to the bottom of the bottle before it drips to the floor. You mindlessly trace the words embedded in the glass as you let your thoughts drift into nothing, Heejun and Jaemin’s voices fading into the background. Your mind goes quiet for the first time in months as you focus on the bottle in your hands, all your worries and fears dissipating for a few precious moments. You can’t remember the last time you could just be without constantly feeling like danger is lurking around every corner.

“–he never remembers! What’s the use of having a professor if he forgets about his own lectures?”

Your hazy bubble is burst when Heejun leans against your side, the tail end of his conversation with Jaemin catching your attention. Remember? You swear there was something you were supposed to ask Heejun about, something you keep forgetting ..

“Oh!” Heejun jumps as you straighten up, the bottle in your hand almost slipping out of your grip from your sudden burst of energy. ”Do you know where Mr. Bear is? I think I must’ve misplaced him the last time I cleaned, but I can’t find him anywhere. Did you see him when you stopped by last week?”

“You misplaced him?” Heejun asks incredulously.

The thing is – you’ve never lost track of him before. Ever since Heejun gifted you that teddy bear when you were nine, you’ve always kept him beside your pillow. The only time you move him is when it’s time to change your sheets, and even then you’ve always made sure that you place him on your desk so that you never accidentally put him somewhere obscure and forget about it. Your attachment to Mr. Bear might be silly, but that ratty old bear has given you so much comfort over the years that it’s been hard to get a good night’s sleep without him.

“I guess,” You give him half-hearted shrug. You’ve already torn through your apartment twice to find him, but with no luck. The only value Mr. Bear has is sentimental, so it’s not like anyone would or could take him. You would know if anyone had broken into your apartment, and it’s not like you could ever forget to lock it up when you leave. No – he’s definitely somewhere around your home, you just need a fresh pair of eyes to locate him.

“I can’t remember seeing him anywhere,” Heejun frowns, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor. "We have plans with Jaemin’s parents tomorrow, but I can come over and help you look on Monday?”

“I’m meeting up with Jungkook to finish up our paper that day, I’m not sure how long it’ll take,” You sigh.

“Black hoodie guy?” Heejun asks, a contemplative look crossing his face as he leans back against the couch.

“That’s him,” You nod.

“Who are you talking about?” Jaemin’s voice is filled with thinly veiled curiosity; eager to catch up on any gossip you haven’t told him about in the last few weeks.

You fill him in on what he missed with Jungkook and the paper you’re working on, carefully stepping around the strange vibes he gave off when you first met. He did make you feel a little weird back then, but he’s been really friendly and sweet in his texts ever since, so it doesn’t feel right to mention anything that might make him look bad when in reality he’s just painfully shy.

“Jeon Jungkook!” Heejun snaps his finger, the unexpected outburst making both you and Jaemin turn to look at him in confusion. “I can’t believe it took me so long to remember where I heard his name before! .. I must be getting old.”

You roll your eyes, lightly hitting his thigh to make sure he doesn’t go off on another tangent again. Heejun found his first gray hair a few months ago, and he hasn’t shut up about it since whenever age happens to get brought up in conversation.

“Rude,” Heejun murmurs, pouting as he rubs the spot you barely tapped with your palm. “There was this guy in my psychology class last year, Namjoon, that talked about Jungkook a few times. They seemed pretty close.”

“Namjoon?” You look at Heejun with wide eyes, ”Please tell me he isn’t tall, wears glasses and funky sweaters?”

There’s no way it’s the same person, the coincidence would just be too great.

“You just described Kim Namjoon perfectly,” Heejun says, pulling a face as he takes a swing of his beer. ”Where do you know him from? He only took a few classes last year and none of them were in your department.”

“Oh, the local library? I stopped by last week to, uh, see if they had a book I needed for my paper.” You say, hoping Heejun can’t pick up on the way your voice trembles over your lie. You know it’s bad to keep secrets when it involves your stalker, but that’s exactly why you can’t tell them. You know they’ll want to help you, but you have a feeling that’ll only make things worse.

“That makes sense,” Heejun shrugs. ”From what I can recall he did split his time between working at the campus library and the one downtown. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even need the class we took together, but each to their own. I guess it tracks that he would start working at the local library full-time once he graduated.”

You hum in agreement, muttering a thank you to Jaemin as he pops open the beer you’re still holding on to. You truly can’t remember ever seeing Namjoon at the campus library before, but then again, you don’t really tend to pay attention to the other students around you when you’re studying. It’s not like you've used the library that much anyway – not when you have a perfectly quiet apartment with a soft bed you can do your work in.

“So they’re close? Namjoon and Jungkook?” You ask.

“Namjoon talked about him enough that I think it’s safe to assume that they’re friends,” Heejun says, his voice growing a little more understanding as he adds, "He seemed concerned that Jungkook wouldn’t know many people on campus once he graduated, so I guess that might solve the mystery of why he took all of those random classes he didn’t really need.”

“That’s sweet.” Jaemin notes. Heejun nods in agreement, muttering out a quiet yeah.

It would be a really kind thing of Namjoon to do. You suppose it does track with what you know about Jungkook so far, too. You haven’t really seen him much around campus since your last class together, but when you’ve caught a glimpse of him he’s always been by himself.

You worry at your bottom lip, shifting the bottle in your hands around. Maybe you should make more of an effort to befriend Jungkook? You’re a bit of a social outcast yourself, so having another person to talk to besides just Heejun and Jaemin would probably do you good too. But, would that put Jungkook in danger? Your stalker hasn’t mentioned your friends before, but it’s not too far-fetched to assume that it’s because he knows Heejun and Jaemin are soulmates. They’ve never tried to hide how in love they are with each other, and if he has been following you around, then he must’ve seen it for himself. Jungkook though, would he be viewed as a rival – a threat? You don’t want an innocent bystander to get hurt just because someone can't differentiate their delusions from reality.

A loud smack next to your ear nearly makes you jump out of your skin, an undignified squeak leaving your lips as you collapse into Jaemin. You barely manage to keep your beer from spilling, Heejun offering you a sheepish smile as he rubs his reddening hands together.

“Frowning is banned tonight, I only want to see happy faces!” He points at you as he jumps to his feet. “That comedy movie you talked about a month ago is finally available to stream, so we’ll put a pause on our High School Musical re-watch to view that instead. You better appreciate my sacrifice and how much it pains me to have to wait another week before I get to see Ryan and Chad’s very gay baseball performance.”

“Fuck, you almost gave me a heart-attack,” You hiss, rubbing your chest. Jaemin snorts as you unsuccessfully try to fling a pillow at Heejun’s face, the plush material landing in front of his feet with a soft thud.

“Maybe you should cut back on the alcohol for a while.” Heejun laughs.

You narrow your eyes at the suggestion, holding his gaze as you stubbornly down the rest of your beer. Jaemin clicks his tongue at the childish behaviour, taking the bottle out of your hands before you can completely finish it. He’s up on his feet before you can protest, levelling you with a look that makes your mouth stay shut.

“I’ll grab the snacks.” Jaemin fondly ruffles your hair, ignoring your swatting hands until he’s pleased with the mess he’s made out of your locks. You can practically hear it crackling with static electricity when he’s done, strands sticking out in every direction.

They both refuse your offer to help get things ready, insisting that you should stay put on the couch since you’re a ‘guest.’ You’re not so sure where that logic suddenly came from considering you helped Heejun clean their bathroom a few weeks ago, but hey, you’ll take it.

A faint buzz grabs your attention. You pick your phone off the coffee table as it lights up with a new message, eyebrows rising as you glance at the name on the top of your screen.

Kim Seokjin.

You scan the text quickly, not daring to give yourself enough time to hope for good news. The content is similar to what he’s texted you a few times already – he still has no leads. It makes sense that there’s no progress from his side though, you haven’t received any roses since you visited his shop. You’re not quite sure if it’s a coincidence or not, especially since the other gifts and envelopes have been turning up as normal, but it’s definitely a little suspicious. It’s probably safe to assume that your stalker knows something about you trying to track him down; otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly break his routine. Of course – not unless he’s planning something else.

You swallow thickly, sending Seokjin a quick thank you before locking your phone. You can wallow in your fears when you get home, you don’t want to ruin tonight and one of the few chances you have at feeling normal by worrying about him.

But, it proves itself hard not to do. You find yourself distracted not even ten minutes into the movie once you’re all settled back on the couch, your thoughts straying far away from the light-hearted plot playing out on the TV. You can’t stop thinking about the gift you found in front of your door this morning – a bright yellow envelope attached to a flat square box. You had blanched when you unwrapped the box to find another expensive piece of jewellery inside, the brand making your mouth run dry. The dainty necklace could probably pay for four months of rent. The card inside of the yellow envelope was straightforward, nothing more than a simple, ”this reminded me of you”, scrawled out in messy handwriting. You had given the simplistic sun pendant another glance before closing the case, stashing it away with the building mountain of orange and blue boxes hidden in the back of your closet. Nothing felt off with the card or the gift, so why is he changing things up with the roses?

You let out an inaudible sigh, snuggling further into Heejun’s side. You rest your head on his shoulder, using the steady beat of his heart to block out the sounds of life outside of their apartment. Most of all though, you ignore the tiny voice that tries to tell you that you probably won’t like the answer to your question and that you won’t know why until it’s already too late.

You grumble under your breath, pressing yourself flat against a wall to avoid colliding with the student barrelling through the crowd. It still shocks you just how packed and loud the hallways get on Mondays. It’s like no one uses the weekend the way it was intended anymore – to get shitfaced drunk three days in a row.

You successfully manage to make your way through the crowded hallways without any more near incidents, breathing out a sigh of relief as you spot the door to the lecture hall. You're nearly there when a familiar person steps into your path, the bright blue suit stopping you in your tracks.

Ms. Eun flicks some of her sleek black hair over her shoulder as she steps closer, the harsh clack of her heels audible over the steady noise of the other students. She flashes you a bright smile, placing a gentle hand on your elbow as she says, ”Y/n! You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

"Oh, Ms. Eun! Good morning,” You smile, hoping it doesn’t show on your face just how confused you really are. What could Ms. Eun ever want with you? You’ve never spoken to her before so there’s no reason for her to know who you are, and it’s not like Ms. Eun only teaches one class. She probably sees fifty different faces every day, and you’ve never tried to make yourself stand out from the rest.

“How is your project going?” Ms. Eun asks sweetly.

“It’s, uhm, it’s going well!” You say, a little flustered. You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, the fangirl inside of you squealing under her undivided attention. She’s just so cool. ”I think we might finish it today actually, I’m meeting up with Jungkook later."

There’s a spark of amusement in Ms. Eun’s eyes at the mention of his name, her pink lips quirking. ”Ah. Is Jungkookie letting you do any work or did he try to complete it all by himself?”

You blink, your brain stuttering at how casually she utters the unexpected nickname. Jungkookie? Isn’t that a little too friendly?

“He tried.” You hesitantly admit, fidgeting under her gaze. “I convinced him to let me do the second draft though.”

“Oh, good!” She grins. She gives your elbow a squeeze, silky locks framing her face as she leans in and says, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jungkookie has a tendency to do all the work in hopes that it will make people like him more. He has a kind heart, so please be gentle with him.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” You nod; finding yourself a little speechless at the familiarity Ms. Eun seems to share with him. You clear your throat, your curiosity winning out as you tentatively ask, ”Has Jungkook taken a lot of your classes? You seem to know him well.”

“Oh no, that kid has tried to avoid my classes at all cost,” Ms. Eun rolls her eyes. She releases your elbow in favour of holding up her hand, showing off the silver band around her fourth finger.

”I’m actually engaged to his cousin. We’ve been together for about four years now, so I’ve grown to know Jungkookie pretty well. I can’t help but be a little protective of him.”

“That’s nice of you.” You faintly smile, forcing out an ooh as she presents the gemstone on her engagement ring for a closer look. You have to admit that you did not see that connection coming, your mind reeling with the new information.

“Don’t worry about your project though, I promise that my personal bias won't interfere with your grading! I’ve already asked one of my colleagues to evaluate it for me. I have to make sure that all of my students are graded fairly, family or not.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” You wince, offering a small bow in apology.

Ms. Eun waves you off with another bright smile. ”Of course it wasn’t, I’ll do anything for Jungkookie and his friends! Good luck on your project, I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve come up with. I didn’t mean to keep you, you should probably run along so that you’re not late to your lecture.”

“Thank you, Ms. Eun.”

“Oh please, call me Dasom! Ms. Eun makes me feel old,” She chuckles, straightening out her blazer. She’s only in her early thirties so you do understand where she’s coming from, but it’s not like you’ve earned the right to speak to her so informally. She’s still your professor, and you don’t share familial ties with her like Jungkook does.

“Okay, thank you again.” You stutter, flashing her another quick smile before you take off. You hear the slow fade of her heels against the floor as you rush to your lecture hall, slipping in through the door just as the professor goes to close it. You sink down into the first seat you see, feeling a little dumbstruck over the last five minutes.

Jungkook never mentioned his relation to Ms. Eun at any point during your conversations. Was he scared that you would react badly to it? That you would think he got special treatment?

You sigh. It’s not something he had to share, but now that you know, you might as well mention it to him. Maybe he’ll feel more comfortable with you if he knows that you don’t care about their connection.

You slow your steps as you near Jungkook’s hunched figure, catching your breath. Your lecture ended up running later than expected, and your sides ache from how fast you hurried across campus to make up for lost time. Jungkook has tucked himself away at one of the smaller tables near the back of the library, the sparser table arrangements there giving you some room to chat without disrupting the quiet for the other students. He looks like he’s been there for a while; books and papers scattered all around him on the round surface. You have to resist the urge to call out to him when you notice that he’s already bent over a small notebook, pen gliding hurriedly over the page as he writes. You had a feeling Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to finish your project on his own, especially after what Ms. Eun told you earlier, and you can't let him do that. It wouldn’t be fair when he's already done such a big portion by himself.

“You didn’t start without me, did you?” You smile, dropping your bag on the floor as you pull out a chair.

“Y-Y/n!” Jungkook’s head whips up at the sound of your voice, doe eyes jumping between you and the table as he tidies up the papers strewn around. He quickly clears up some space for you, his hands moving frantically as he shuffles everything over on one side.

You eye his notebook curiously as you take a seat across from him. It’s nearly impossible to make out any of his handwriting upside down, but judging by the formatting alone and the tight and messy scribbles decorating the pages, it surprisingly doesn’t seem like Jungkook was working on something related to your project at all.

A strangled noise leaves Jungkook's lips as he notices where your attention has drifted. He hastily grabs the small black book with clumsy fingers, smacking it shut before he stuffs it into the backpack resting by his feet. The strain of panic in his eyes gives you a strange sensation of déjà vu – the alarm on Jungkook’s face bleeding into Seokjin’s anxious expression from a few weeks ago.

“I didn’t! This is p-private, sorry.” Jungkook stutters through his words. He ducks his head as his cheeks take on a soft pink hue.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, feeling bad for peeking at Jungkook’s personal stuff. ”I’m the one that should be apologizing, not you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, my lecture ran later than expected.”

“I-It’s okay! I didn’t wait for very long.”

You nod; choosing not to comment on how it looks like Jungkook has been here for hours already, his things too strewn about for someone who just got there before you did.

Following Jungkook’s lead you get your laptop out of your bag, pulling up the second draft you finished a few days before. You already sent it to Jungkook yesterday for approval, so there’s really not much left for you to do but to add some sentences here and there to flesh out a few paragraphs you feel need it. You print out two versions of your paper once you both deem it finished, figuring it might be better to proof-check it on paper rather than the screen you’ve been staring at for the past hour.

You huff as you rummage through your bag, glaring at the dark fabric as you realize you left your last pen at home. Your lack of writing utensils is getting ridiculous; do you need to glue them to your bag to make sure that you won’t lose them? You honestly feel a bit embarrassed as you clear your throat, asking Jungkook if he has one extra to spare.

“Of course, take mine!”

Jungkook thrusts the one in his hand out before you can even blink, a timid smile on his lips as you reach across the table to take it.

“Are you sure? Do you …" You trail off as you turn the pen in your hand, eyebrows furrowing as your finger runs along the side of it. You’ve had quite a few of these pens yourself, it’s a rather popular brand, but this one in particular looks a lot like the last one to go missing. The ink is halfway gone and the chip you made in the plastic is right there, just below the clip from when it rolled down the stairs of Heejun and Jaemin’s apartment. There are even bite marks on the top of the barrel, ones you’re sure would match your teeth perfectly if you just–

You startle as Jungkook abruptly snatches the pen out of your hand, switching it out with another that was lying by his books. He firmly curls your fingers around the new pen, fingertips lingering for just a beat too long before he retreats his hand.

He avoids your bewildered eyes as he stuffs the first pen into the pocket of his hoodie. "Um, it was running low on ink? This one is better.” Jungkook gestures vaguely to the one you’re holding before he once again ducks his head, hunching over the final draft over your paper.

“If you say so,” You murmur. The new pen in your hand is smooth and unblemished, nothing like the previous one. You shake your head. Why would Jungkook have your old beat-up pen? It makes more sense that he would’ve thrown it away should he have found it somewhere. You know from experience how easily they break and chip, and it’s not like you’re the only person on campus who has a habit of chewing on their writing utensils. You spare Jungkook another glance, noting how he seems to already be underlining and crossing out words. Letting out a tiny sigh, you pull your final draft close. You shouldn’t be entertaining such stupid thoughts when you have more pressing things to attend to. With that in mind, you rest your head in the palm of your head – ready to get this project finished up as soon as possible.

You stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying pop releasing some of the tension in your back. The sun began to set through the window as you made the finishing touches to your paper, the sky a deep purple by the time you both finally deem it done. Truth be told, you probably wouldn’t have put this much effort into your project if you were doing this by yourself, but you can’t half-ass anything when Jungkook seems so eager to do well.

“The formatting looks okay. Should I submit it?” Jungkook asks. He finds your gaze through his messy bangs, brown eyes fleetingly holding on to yours before he looks away.

“Go for it,” You smile. Jungkook silently nods, clicking away on his laptop as he pulls up the right site.

You pick at your chipped nail polish, letting your gaze wander around the library as you wait for your paper to finish uploading. Most of the other students have already left, their warm apartments calling them home early now that the autumn chill has truly come to stay. Another student catches your attention as she walks past, her bright blue sweater and dark hair reminding you of Ms. Eun and the conversation you had earlier. Maybe now would be a good time to bring their connection up.

You look back at Jungkook, clearing your throat softly before you say, ”I talked to Ms. Eun today, she, well, she actually mentioned you.”

“What?” Jungkook’s fingers go still. He straightens in his seat, sharp eyes locking on to yours as his mouth twists. ”What did noona say? If it was anything weird then don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“No, it was nothing like that!” You quickly deny, the ferocity in Jungkook’s voice making you fumble for the right words. "She only mentioned that you’re family and that you’re diligent with your studies. I, um, I don’t know if this is even a concern for you, but I wanted to let you know that I don’t mind it – the fact that you’re family. You clearly work really hard despite any advantage you could have had, so I don’t want you to think that I think you’re being let off easy, that’s all.”

Jungkook’s shoulders deflate as you elaborate. The frown on his lips quickly disappears, his face smoothing out into some more neutral. ”Oh… Okay.”

The shyness seems to creeps back in as the air goes silent between the two of you, a flush spreading across Jungkook’s cheeks as his own outburst dawns on him. He ducks down behind his screen again, using his laptop for cover as he shakily resumes turning in your paper, his voice ever so soft as he murmurs, ”Thank you, that means a lot to me.”

“Of course, no problem.”

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes as you turn your face toward the ceiling. Your chat, if you can even call it that, didn’t exactly go as expected – you were wholly unprepared for such a strong reaction from Jungkook – but at least you got to somewhat clear the air?

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes burning behind your tired eyelids. Your lack of proper sleep over the last few weeks is finally starting to catch up with you. Something has just been feeling more off than usual ever since you began trying to track your stalker down and it makes it impossible to relax. Not even the comfort of your own home has been enough to properly let your guard down.

You make yourself as comfortable in the hard library chair as you can, replacing your thoughts with the rhythmic clicking of Jungkook’s laptop in hopes that you can make your mind shut off for a little while.

“Y/n … I-It's turned in.”

You blink away the sleepy haze weighting on your mind, shaking off the lingering exhaustion in your body. Did you just manage to nod of for a few seconds while sitting up? God. You really do need to get some rest.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Thank you.” You look at Jungkook through bleary eyes, stifling a yawn behind your hand.

He seems to hesitate as he slowly starts to gather up his things, his gaze firmly locked on to the table as he musters up the courage to ask, ”Are you okay? Why do you look so tired?”

“It’s a long story.” You grimace. You should tell Jungkook what’s going on just for his own safety, but – you don’t want to scare away the only person you might be able to befriend besides Heejun and Jaemin.

“I have time.” He pushes his hoodie further back on his head, showing off the earnest expression on his face; the gentle smile he gives you.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, a selfish part of yourself begging you to keep your mouth shut. It would be so nice to just have a friend that looks at you like you're normal, like you’re not being constantly stalked and harassed by an unknown person, but you know it wouldn’t be fair to Jungkook. Not when he’s just an innocent bystander to the mess you’re dealing with.

So, you tell him.

You keep a close watch on his face as you explain an abridged version of what you’ve been going through over the last year, leaving out some of the more intimate details of the gifts and letters you’ve received. He looks stunned, doe eyes wide with shock and lips parted in surprise as you re-tell everything. You rub the back of your neck once you finally begin to trail off, embarrassment and discomfort burning hot through your body as you admit how much it’s been affecting you, making you too scared to sleep.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as you grow quiet, his leg bouncing against the table as he thinks. ”So it’s not just letters … but gifts too.” He mumbles shakily, face turning pale.

You actually think he might throw up if he moves around. Perhaps telling him was a mistake. Regretful, you stand up to gather your things, mustering up a faint smile as you say, ”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. Please just forget about it, okay? I know it’s a lot.”

Jungkook jumps to his feet, his chair screeching against the linoleum floor as he grabs your wrist, stopping you from picking up your laptop. His hand is clammy around your skin, his eyes darting across your face as you suck in a surprised breath. ”It’s fine! L-Let me walk you home. It’s dark outside and I don’t want you to feel unsafe."

“Are you sure?” A quick glance to your side confirms that the streetlights have long since turned on, everything beyond the campus pathways shrouded in darkness. You don’t want to bother Jungkook, especially when he hasn’t really said anything about your, well, your predicament, yet.

“I’m sure, Y/n.” Jungkook gives your wrist a limp squeeze, withdrawing his hand just as quickly as he grabbed you. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of being around you even though you have a crazed stalker, and it would be nice to not have to look over your shoulder constantly on your way home. Sure, Jungkook can be a little odd, but you’d at least be safer walking with him than on your own.

“I’ll take you up on it, then. Thank you.”

You both make quick work of collecting your belongings, shoving all of the materials you used back in your bag. You find yourself outside in no time, keeping a brisk pace to combat the cold air. Jungkook matches your tempo easily with his long legs, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he tries to avoid bumping into other people. Most of your walk home is spent in silence, your attempts of small talk a little stilted with Jungkook’s tense replies. He seems too distracted to fully pay attention to what you’re saying, his gaze tracking every person you walk past. It’s only now, with him walking next to you, that you realize just how broad he really is. He always makes himself look so small that it’s easy to forget how fit and tall he actually is. You never expected you would feel a sense of protection from the same man who struggles to look you in the eye for too long.

Jungkook’s cautiousness only drops once you reach your building, his face inquisitive as he stares up at the high building. ”Oh, so this is where you live.”

“Yeah, this is me,” You titter. There’s something odd, calculating, in the way Jungkook is studying your home. ”Why? Have you been here before?”

“No!” Jungkook shakes his hands, taking a step back. ”My hyungs live the area so I’ve passed by here before. That’s all!”

“Okay,” You nod, scuffing your boot against the ground.

Jungkook’s voice fills the air just as you open your mouth to say goodbye. ”About what you told me earlier .. Have you told the police?” He sways slightly where he’s standing, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I have,” Jungkook’s eyes snap up to meet yours, wide and … afraid? ”They can’t help me.”

Jungkook releases a deep breath. He runs one hand through his hair before he readjusts his hoodie, the shadow hiding his eyes. ”I, ah, know someone in the police force that will believe you. Hyung is a great policeman; he’ll definitely help you if we ask. We can go there tomorrow if you want!”

“I don’t know..” You sigh. ”I’ve already tried twice.”

“Please? I promise he’ll be able to do something. He wouldn’t want my so– friend! to be scared.”

You mull it over for a few seconds, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. It’s not like it’ll hurt to try one more time, right? Maybe the officer Jungkook knows has more authority than the ones you’ve spoken to so far. Maybe he can help you.

You shrug, giving Jungkook a faint smile as you reluctantly agree to his offer. ”If you think he’ll be able to do something, then sure, why not."

The curves of Jungkook’s mouth pull up in the low light. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He’ll know exactly what to do.”

a/n: the yandere boys are back!! things are going to go down in the next chapter, i hope you’re ready .. 👀 please leave a comment if you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts, that would make me so happy!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

if you’d like to support lovesick or my writing in general, i would really appreciate an ko-fi! 💖

i hope you are all doing well and staying safe! (ps. i’m not doing taglists!)

#bts x reader #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts soulmate au #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere taehyung #bts au #yandere kpop

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Note

Hi Jo! Love the idea of #mmvalentinesevent! Could I please request Ghost x Rain, and specifically Rain freaking out because Ghost was reckless and risked his life for a USB? Was that when Ghost fell in love? Happy Valentines xx

retrieve it.

simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader (rain!reader)

an: a huge thank you to @ave661 for allowing me to use this beautiful image. i’d written the scene, seen the render, and it was like two worlds colliding in the most brilliant way. thank you, i adore you

wc: 1.6k | an: no warnings, little anxiety/worry. i changed the prompt a little, as i wanted to do them established already for v-day ♥️

It mirrors it. The mission that first made you realise you didn’t just admire him, but had feelings for your lieutenant.

It was the one that haunted your nightmares, more so now, than it had done at the time. The one which shattered your small world, making it hard to think of anything but him.

He almost became a ghost. A real one.

Something he knows, but won’t admit. Likely knowing there are more times than he can count where it’s been that close or worse.

And you should be listening as Price gives the rest of them a role, a part to play. You don’t hear him, don’t even take the file from the table. Everything was the same, anyway.

You’re with Soap. You’re the one staring down the scope—you’re the one protecting his six. You’re drowning, dazed…

Words are simply circling, but not sinking in. Your nose heightened to his deodorant suddenly, to the way his skin smells when you’re nose is pressed against his chest. You’re not even close to him. But your body reaches for him, clings to him—attempting to smother the building worry:

People aren’t that lucky.

He’d walked from it last time—fire whipping around him, scorch marks having kissed his clothes and exposed skin. It’s not that you ever focus on, but the minute that felt like an hour when he wasn’t responding. When his radio crackled, and you realised that you liked him—that you cared, that you—

You’re panicking a whole metre away from him. No way close enough for him to tell. But he does. His eyes lock with yours under the balaclava, digging his pupils into your skin: I’m here, I’m here.

But for how long?

They all tease Soap for being the first to rush into danger, to throw himself on the grenade. But, Simon isn’t that different. He’s more methodical, having likely come to a calculated conclusion rather than reactionary, but he still throws himself against danger. His isn’t to be a hero, but to pay a due—one he doesn’t even owe.

It’s why you keep replaying Price’s words from minutes ago—

We can’t fuck this. Ghost. You’ll b’going in alone, y’retrieve the USB…

Price knows he’ll do it. Knows without fucking question. It almost makes you a little mad at your captain.

Because Ghost will pull apart buildings, rip through people, and willingly throw himself into flames for the mission—for the cause.

It’s all you can think of. It’s all that plays in your mind. Untangling and tangling again, like a pair of headphones which have been in your pocket for too long.

“Meeting adjourn—“

You’re out of the room before anyone else. Your boots slamming and echoing down corridors, t-shirt suddenly too tight, belt too restrictive…

Panic.

That’s what you feel. It makes your arm throb, it makes the scars littered along your skin burn. It makes you want to claw—practically consuming you. Filling you from the ankles to your forehead, suffocating you, wrapping its hands around your heart and lungs as it squeezes and squeezes and—

You almost slam through the door. The one which leads to an empty room—a former office. A desk and a chair are all that remain as evidence that they belonged to someone once. A desk and chair you and Ghost have made use of when you truly need time alone—no interruptions, no risk of being caught.

You could seat yourself in the chair, but you slide onto the desk. Pushing your back against the jagged brick, letting your feet hang, moving them forwards and backwards.

Calming.

It works, sometimes. Roots you. You trying to keep yourself level-headed. Breathing in and out, trying to stuff it all down, and yet, you’re failing—badly. Mind tumbling, falling aimlessly through your neck, chest and stomach.

You can’t lose him.

It’s what builds inside of you, occasionally being drilled like a woodpecker against your skull. You had thought the same then, and didn’t—hadn’t. But, the helplessness never eased, even when he held you close. The emptiness you felt, when he entered the building, but took so long to come out.

That same emptiness has worsened over time, developed into something thicker and harder to ignore. It multiplies, in the same way, your feelings for him have.

Rain doesn’t wash away ghosts, but it falls similarly to how you have for him. Quickly, significantly. It sits on your chest when he stares at you in silence, when his calloused touch brushes over your cheek, softly, intimately.

None of them knows.

None of them would have even considered that you love him, and that he… feels something close to it. They don’t know. None of them understood the anger he felt when your arm was dislocated; none of them comprehended why anger had burst out of you when he was nearly shot because of shoddy intel.

They don’t know, because they don’t have it: a secret which erodes in your chest, one that makes it hard to think. You sigh, and then you hear it—footsteps, one’s which seem to slow your pulse back to a regular rhythm.

He always has that effect on you. The same as he always finds you.

It almost makes you wonder if he’s akin to a heat-seeking missile. Never missing, never too far away from locating you. You’d ask him, whether he had a sixth sense, but you’re not sure you can talk.

Ghost says nothing as he steps in, but he’s rolled his sleeves up. His ink and veins on show as he walks towards you in silence, the door meeting the frame the only thing to shatter the quiet.

Before he came to your home, Ghost stalked towards you. Since then, he walks. Each movement he does towards you is more rounded, less jagged.

“In and out.”

He says it so confidently you snort. He’s always confident—it’s Simon who isn’t.

Ghost is clinical, emotionless, and withdrawn—and rightly so, for the things he’s had to do. It’s Simon who can’t consider the possibility that someone is waiting for him—the former not allowing himself to consider he’s worth it.

“Rain.”

You lift your chin at your callsign, finding him standing in front of you. His bare hand slowly slid over your knee, your legs parting—just enough to let him move a little closer.

It’s gentle, almost confusingly so. The two of you rarely share these moments, the quiet ones, the ones where so much is said, but with eyes and softer gestures.

You focus on the scratch fabric of his trousers catching on your inner knees and thighs as he steps between your legs, nudging the desk you’re placed on.

He says nothing, and neither do you.

A flash of memories fluttering like the wings of butterflies: him at your one-person table, him in your bed—your sheets; him finding you in the showers, him bringing you a can of Coke… just because.

It’s his palm sliding up the outside of your thigh that makes you really meet his gaze. Not afraid or ashamed of the tears brewing in them, your lips parting, but the words don’t fall—don’t roll from your tongue…

I need you alive. I need you.

Your hands, though, take hold of his top—burning the words as hard as you can into the fabric, hoping he hears you. Not sure if you can spit them out. Even if your heart is bellowing it, furiously banging on your ribs to get him to hear you.

“It’s not like then.”

“No?” you murmur.

He shakes his head, silent, but direct.

“You’ll do anything to finish a mission.”

He nods, tracing a circle on your outer thigh, making your skin tingle. “I will.”

“You… you put yourself in danger, and… I admire it, fuck I love that about you, but…”

“I have you.”

You feel your brows furrow before you’re even sure you hear him. His words smothering the ones from Price—the ones which hadn’t dislodged for prayers or hopes. Only him.

He swallows, lifting his other hand to your cheek, holding your eyes on his. “I have you, and you like me alive.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, sharply. Nodding softly against his palm as he sighs.

“In and out.”

He gives a curt nod, slowly lowering his forehead against yours, fingers strumming your thigh and your cheek.

“Plus, your scope will b’on me,” he gruffly whispers.

“I-It will.”

He strokes his thumb over your chin. “Then I’ll be fine.”

You hate his confidence, the pressure which falls in flecks onto your shoulders.

“No one I trust more to have my back, Rain.”

“You’re just saying that—”

He lifts his head, tilting your chin up, staring down into your soul through the blacks of your eyes. “Not to you. I never say… not to you, alright?”

You nod, rolling your lips as you sigh. Unsure whether you should say it, let the words kiss the air, until they fall from your tongue all the same—

“I love you alive, Simon.”

His eyes widen at the chance in word. The noticeable difference from like to love.

Your hands balling up against his clothing, his hand gripping your thigh. Perfection. That’s what you think as you hold on for as long as you both can, making sure he knows you mean them. Your words.

Then you feel it, his heart hammering more purposefully against your wrist, as you clutch onto him a little tighter.

And then, he lifts the fabric from his chin, letting you see soft pink and stubble, before he kisses a reply against your lips, over and over again.

One which burns in all the right ways; one which you carry with you, as you make sure he’s safe as you stare down the scope.

#mmvalentinesevent #mm valentines event #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x rain #simon riley x reader #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 1 year

Text

A/n: Angst with fluff at the end cause I can’t do that to Cal.

It was easy to knock her out, it didn’t take much. Nor did it take long to ask Mirrian to bring her back to the Mantis.

“You can’t!-.”

“She is more important than I am…” you swallowed thickly. ‘More important to Cal’

Giving her a weak smile you stepped back pulling out your saber. “Go!”

“You come back to us.”Mirrian begged. “We need you…Cal needs you.”

Shaking your head you turned your back then took off running deep into the Archives, Mirrian’s words running in your ears.

“We need you…Cal needs you.”

You could feel tears streaming down your cheeks when you finally reached the room. The small device holding all the information in your finger tips though your heart dropped when a familiar figure entered the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Giving a smile on your face you pulled out the saber hiding the device. “I thought your ass drowned, now that’s a disappointment.”

“Still as arrogant as when he first met.”

You knew that would couldn’t last, wouldn’t last. Vader was stronger than you were, more skilled but it did not mean you would let him get to the ones you loved and soon you were jumping at you. You did your best to hold your own against the man.

But the room was burning, it was getting harder to breath thanks to the smoke. A pained cry escaping your lips when your back hit one of the stone beams, blood dripping past your lips you weakly held out your hand as Vader stalked towards you.

“Still weak.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You gasped out shoving him back against one of the bookshelves, the flames engulfing him as you weakly stood up. Nearly falling to your knees you stumbled out of the room before Vader could get up though it wasn’t until you were away from the burning archives, your back now pressed against the wall that you were bleeding.

‘When did he hit you? How did you not notice the pain?’

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you slid down the wall with your hand pressed against the wound praying the others had gotten to safety. Your vision growing hazy, blurry, your body starting to fall forward only to be caught in a pair of arms.

Your name frantically falling from a pair a lips, a voice you know so well.

“Cal?”

Holding you tightly, Cal pressed his hand over the wound across your belly. His heart racing, he had get something as he rushed back to the temple. A change in the force, he knew he had to get back to you.

You looked ill, like you were so close to death.Burying your face into your neck his hand stayed firmly against your wound. “You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be fine.” He whispered. “Please don’t leave me, pease. You’re important to me, you’ll always be most important to me.”

A weak chuckle escaped your lips as your placed your hand against his cheek. “It’s okay Cal.” You waited to die, at least you wouldn’t be alone.

Gritting his teeth, Cal kept his eyes closed praying something would happen.That anything would happen though he missed that you were healing, missed the blue glow on his finger tips as he held you against him.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling, the feeling of any bones that might have been broken heal, that deep wound closing.

All thanks to Cal.

“Cal….I’m feeling much better now.”

Pulling back, tears still on his eyes eyes the man looked back at you in confusion then looked down at your wound. “How.”

Shaking your head you let your thumb run across his cheek. “I’m not really sure what happened, maybe Cere knows but….did you really mean that…what you said?”

Cal looked at you in disbelief he then cupped your cheeks still rattled by what has happened. “Of course I did…I.”swallowing thickly he pressed his head against yours. “I love you.”

#drabbles #drabble #cal kestis jedi survivor #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #cal kestis fallen order #jedi survivor #Star Wars #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars jedi survivor

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box Series— Imagines Edition: Numb

request: “Can I get a blurb about sissy (y/n) smoking and coming home high and Quinn just asks why and y/n is like “I just wanted to numb the pain””

warnings: underage smoking, driving while high (implied, not explicitly said), cursing, crying, parental trauma

word count: 1.6k

General Series Masterlist

a/n i’m writing this high and major projecting so i made it a whole fic instead of a blurb :) i also cried writing sooo enjoy suffering <3

— — — — —

Smoking wasn’t all you and Cole did, but he was one of the only people you’d always be down to smoke with. He matched your high perfectly, no matter the mood. If you were chill, he was chill. If you were giggly, he would make sure you never stopped laughing.

Tonight was an exception. Tonight you were laying back in the passenger seat of his car, passing the blunt back and forth, with soft country music playing in the background. Tonight, you were trying to forget.

“I know you don’t want to right now, but you do know that you can talk to me, right?” Cole asked as he accepted the blunt from you.

“I know,” you whispered.

“And you know I can’t let you always smoke to drown out your thoughts, right?”

“I do. Are we done?”

Cole sighed, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stop. Jack did say he has a surprise for you at home, though. So as soon as this is out I need to take you back to my dorm to change and then home.”

You nodded and waited for the blunt to be passed back to you. You texted Jack that you’ll need to be covered for if Jim and Ellen were still awake.

You weren’t excited for whatever Jack’s surprise was going to be. He knows what tomorrow is. He knows there’s nothing that can help. But you weren’t going to blame him for trying. He always tries for you.

“Does Trevor know?” Cole asked you as you changed in his closet.

“He does,” you answered.

“Does he know how you’re reacting?” Cole urged you to open up.

“I don’t know.”

“Am I going to get anything out of you?”

You just came out and sat down in his desk chair instead of answering. Cole came over to hug you, so you wrapped your arms around his middle and leaned your head against his stomach and allowed him to stroke your hair.

“Let’s get you back to Jack. Maybe he can help more,” Cole said soft.

You stood up, but did not detach yourself from Cole’s side. Cole hugged you tight for a moment before separating so that he could drive you home.

“Drive slow,” you told him.

“I know, Y/N/N,” Cole said.

Jack was sitting on the front porch waiting for you when you arrived. He stood up when you opened the door and met you and Cole in the grass next to his car.

“You got her?” Cole asked Jack.

“I got her,” Jack nodded. “See you later, Cole. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Cole smiled. You all bid your I love you’s and goodbyes and then Cole got back in his car to drive away.

“I got something for you,” Jack said as you walked up the stairs.

“Jacky, thank you, but some item isn’t going to change what tomorrow is,” you said sadly.

Jack paused in front of you before he opened your bedroom door, “Good thing I didn’t get you an item then.”

You weren’t looking up at first when you stepped into your room, but when you did, you saw Quinn sitting on your bed against the headboard with a worried smile on his face. Your guard was immediately dropped and tears started to slowly fall at the sight of him. You sped over to him and collapsed into his arms. He wrapped you up in his lap and hugged you tight as he tucked your face into his collarbone.

“Why’d you do this, Sissy?” Quinn whispered.

“I don’t wanna feel anything,” you croaked. “I just wanna be numb.”

If you weren’t high, you’d be sobbing your eyes out. But your mission was to get so high that you’d forget how awful tomorrow is going to be. Quinn moved you down so that your head was on his thigh. He took his hand and placed his fingers between your eyebrows, and then spread out his fingers so that his thumb and pinky were lighting carding through your eyebrows, while the other trailed up and continued to lightly massage your forehead to add to your sense of calm.

“No you don’t,” Quinn said. “You don’t want to feel that again.”

You stayed silent for a moment. Quinn was grounding you, and the reasoning as to why you got high out of your mind with Cole tonight were resurfacing.

“Why didn’t they want me?” you squeaked out through the recent tears.

You sat back up to cling onto your best friend. You tucked your head back into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around it. Quinn’s arms slipped around your middle to cradle your head one hand.

“I don’t know,” Quinn whispered. “But I do know that the world is saving as many people to love you as possible to make up for the love your parents didn’t give you. You’ve already had me, and Rowdy, Moose, Mom, and Dad loving you. And now, you’ve got Trevor, Cole, and Alex. You’ll have been living with us for a year tomorrow. You don’t deserve what they put your through, but you do deserve what we’ve given you. A home. A loving home. One that wouldn’t be complete without you.”

You didn’t say anything to that; you couldn’t even if you tried. You were violently sobbing into him. Quinn just rubbed you back and occasionally placed a kiss to the top of your head as you cried.

You felt the bed dip on both sides and looked up to discover that Jack and Luke had come into the room. Jack got on the other side of you, and Luke got on the other side of Quinn. Jack laid down on the pillow next to you and cuddled up close, placing a hand on your back. Luke did the same on the other side and started to run his fingers through your hair.

You cried even harder at this. The fact that they cared so much about you, when your blood family never did, it fills you with such raw emotions that you don’t know what else to do with.

You loved how much all three of them cared, but you were grateful when Quinn had them remove their hands so only he was touching you. It was becoming a little too much for you.

When your sobs died down, you heard Quinn ask, “Is it ready?”

You didn’t hear if Jack or Luke made an answer, but suddenly everyone was getting up.

“I’m not done!” you cried out.

“Sissy, I’m not leaving you, I promise,” Quinn cooed. I sent them to set up something downstairs for all of us and they finished. So come on, I’m not carrying you down the stairs.”

“Pansy,” you muttered. Quinn laughed and tossed an arm around your shoulder, “There’s my girl.”

You and Quinn followed behind his two younger brothers to the living room to see what they set up. When you turned the corner from the staircase wall to see, a giant fort had been made in the middle of the living room.

“It’s just like when we were kids,” you said in awe. “Who’s idea was this?”

“We all—“

“It was all Quinn,” Jack cut his big brother off. “Don’t be modest.”

Quinn nudged you, “That’s your queue to bully him.”

“I didn’t even know you knew that word,” you said with a soft smile with your arms still glued to Quinn’s waist. Jack sent you two a glare in response.

Quinn urged you all to go into the fort to “see what the two bozos managed to do” to which you replied, “Who the fuck says bozo anymore?”

Turns out, the bozos did amazing. Inside were endless amounts of pillows and blankets, chocolate, popcorn, and other various candies, and Jack’s unreasonably large laptop to watch a movie on.

“The Hunger Games is already pulled up,” Luke said smiling. “But we can change it to Catching Fire, if you want.”

“No, no this is perfect,” you said quietly as you admired your brothers’ work. “It’s perfect.”

You all crawled into the fort. It was much bigger than it was when you were kids, for obvious reasons. Jack and Luke went all out for it. There were small lamps in the corners for light, and somehow Jack had stolen your favorite blanket from your room without you noticing.

“You deserve this,” Quinn whispered to you. “You don’t need them. But we need you, and hopefully that’s enough.”

You put your head on his shoulder as Like pressed play on the movie and Jack made sure everyone had a blanket before two of them settled on either side of you and Quinn.

“It’s more than enough. Thank you guys, truly,” you told them.

“You know we’d do anything for you, Sissy,” Jack said. “We love you.”

“We really do,” Luke added.

“You’re always gonna be my world,” Quinn said. “And I love you so much, I skipped a quiz to be here. Just don’t tell mom that.”

“If it wasn’t for Sissy, I would,” Jack stated.

“Good thing it’s for Sissy then,” Quinn said.

“Guys, thank you, and I love you all with my whole butt because it’s bigger than my heart, but Katniss is on the screen right now and I can’t hear,” you cut them all off.

“There’s my girl,” Quinn laughed.

You uncharacteristically fell asleep halfway through the movie. You weren’t even sure who you were cuddling with at this point being caught between Jack and Quinn. But they were there, and so was Luke, and that’s all you really needed.

#penalty box series: imagines #penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #luke hugh imagine #cole caufield imagine #quinn hughes #cole caufield #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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kendallroydefender · 3 months

Text

Somewhere only we know - Chapter 13 (Kendall Roy x Reader)

Masterlist

Series summary: You met Kendall when you were six years old. You have spent every summer together and now years later you and him are still just as close. This story follows Kendall and his best friend through their lives. Will they realize their feelings for each other before it’s too late?

Chapter summary: While the Roys are at their mothers wedding you get a phone call that is turning your world upside down. Following the events he makes a decision that could change his life for the better and yours too.

Authors Notes: We’re so so close to an confession!! I hope you like this chapter! Much love to everyone who’s still keeping up with the story! 🤍

Wordcount: 3.1K

You hear you’re phone ring. The caller ID says Connor wich makes you furrow your brows. Why would Connor call you from Caroline’s wedding? You accept the call, with a weird feeling spreading in your stomach, remembering last time you got a call from a Roy family member that wasn’t Kendall while they were out of the country.

”Hello?“ You ask slightly wary. He says your name in a somber tone before telling you ”Something happened.“ You take a deep breath the dark feeling starting to grow.

”It’s about Kendall. There was an accident and he, yeah, he almost drowned.“ He says and your breathing stops

”He fell off a pool float, he was drunk. We don’t know if it was an accident or..“ Tears gather in your eyes ”Is he..?“ You ask even if you’re afraid of the answer of how bad it is. If he died you don’t know how you would cope. ”He is stable, they’re keeping him til tomorrow.“ You close your eyes and exhale a shaky breath ”Can you send me the name of the hospital? I will be there as soon as possible.“ You ask him. ”Y/n you don’t have to-“

”No. Con, I need to.“

He mumbles an okay and take care, you tell him you’ll be in contact with him and if there’s any news about Kendall he should call or text you.

While organizing a jet you get a suitcase out and throw in anything you can catch. It feels like you’re almost in some kind of trance, you’re almost too calm. In less than 15 minutes you are out of your apartment and on the way to the airport.

You board your families jet, Connor has send you the name and address of the hospital Kendall was admitted to. You have also texted with Jess and Roman. You haven’t contacted Kendall himself, maybe you’re scared he will tell you not to come and because he was still not awake when Connor called you. You aren’t even sure if he knows that you’ve been told about what happened.

You know you should use the next hours to sleep but how are you supposed to when you don’t know what happened to your best friend, the man who you are in love with. You open your phone and go to the folder with all the pictures you have of him. There are funny ones of the two of you together and others where you attended galas and dinners together. You stop when you reach one where Kendall is sleeping. He looks so peaceful and carefree. You’ve taken it a year ago when he fell asleep on your couch while watching some movie. You wonder when it all went so wrong, you remember when he carried you all the way home on his back to your parents summer house after you cut your foot at the beach. Or when he rapped along to his new favorite song on your dorm bed. The way you two danced through the night in Shanghai’s clubs. All these memories rush through your head and you can’t stop yourself from crying.

You arrive at the hospital after an exhausting 10 hour flight and a taxi ride. You had slept for about an hour before waking again, too anxious to drift off again. You knew Kendall wasn’t doing well but you hadn’t thought it was this bad. You feel like you should have noticed how bad he was doing.

You ask to see Kendall but you really haven’t thought this through because you’re met with an ”I’m sorry signora, we can’t let unauthorized people to him. Only family.“ you nod, turning around contemplating what to do. Connor told you they weren’t going to the hospital but will see him after he’s released. You see Comfry on her phone. Jackpot.

You walk over to the blonde woman who smiles at you and gives a little wave. After she hangs up, she brings you to Kendall’s room. She stops outside to tell you about what happened, when and how he was found, that he’s mostly fine now but they kept him overnight to be sure.

You open the door to his room, he is resting on the bed, awake and looking out of the window. ”Kenny.“ you get out before tears come to your eyes. His head snaps towards you fast, he’s shocked to see you here. Who told you? Why did you come? It reminds him of the press conference where you appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He knows it was Roman who told you what was going on but still it feels like you always know when he needs you most by his side.

He says you name and you walk towards his bed, crushing him in a hug. He strokes your hair and after minutes you let him go. ”Sorry, sorry.“ you say wiping your tears. ”It’s okay, please don’t cry.“ he tells you cupping the side of your face. ”You shouldn’t have come, nothing happend. I’m fine, really.“ Kendall tells you to wich you shake your head. ”Kendall. No - of course.“ you tell him. Did he really thought you wouldn’t come after you heard what happened? ”Connor called me and I knew I had to get here. I just needed to see you.“

You don’t pry him about the situation knowing he will talk to you on his own terms. You just lay with him on the hospital bed. Pressing kisses onto his shaven head. ”My Dad- Uh, he won’t let me leave.“ Kendall says to you in a low distant sounding voice. ”What?“ you ask confused, since you’ve read the birthday card where he offered it. ”We had dinner yesterday. I wanted out but he- yeah, he said no.“ Kendall answers you and you feel like you swallowed a hot stone, you’re so mad at his father. Logan’s constant psychological abuse of his children. ”God. Kenny.“ is all you get out and just from that the man knows you’re mad. ”It’s okay.“ he assures you and you turn so you face him. ”No it’s really not. God i hate him so much.“ you can’t help yourself ”I’m so sorry Kendall. You don’t deserve being treated like that. You deserve so, so much better.“ he feels tears well up and he blinks fast, tries to swallow all these feelings again.

Instead he asks you if you’ll come with him to his mothers wedding and of course you say yes.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Comfry comes into the room a few hours later with one of the doctors, Kendall is being released. A car is already waiting outside.

You arrive at the house his family has rented. You catch Sophies eyes and give her a small wave and a smile. She smiles back, happy to see you. You eye Logan warily who sits next to the kids. Suddenly acting like a grandfather, you fight the urge to scoff. He looks at you but you avert your eyes quickly, turning toward the siblings who sit around a table playing monopoly. They make some jokes about Kendall’s accident slash attempt and you roll your eyes, wich Connor catches. But you don’t care, you’re here for Kendall. Connor sounded worried yesterday when he called you, you don’t understand how they can act like that now, not even a day later.

”Kids! Come on we’re leaving!“ Kendall shouts and you wrap your arm around Iverson. ”What are you doing here?“ Sophie asks with a mischievous grin. She’s not opposed to you and her father dating. She was old enough when her parents divorced to know it was better that way, she heard them fighting. Iverson took the break up harder and you can’t blame him. ”What? can’t I just go to the wedding of my best friend mother?“ you say to her jokingly.

”But you weren’t here yesterday?“ Iverson asks ”Y/n had a work thing she had to attend, that’s why she’s late.“ Kendall says quickly. He loves how well you get along with his kids, even if that means having Sophie asking him questions about you two later.

While Kendall is off to a meeting with his siblings, wich unbeknownst to you is an intervention, you and Comfry go to find you a dress to wear for the festivities. You have grown to like the woman even though your relationship with her is definitely not as deep as yours and Jess.

You buy a dress that fits you perfectly and is fitting for Carolines wedding.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You attend the wedding alongside Kendall. You give your congrats to Caroline and her soon to be husband, who’s name you already forgot. You’re sitting with Willa and Connor. Kendall wanted you to sit with him at the family table but you assured him you’re fine. He argued that you would be his plus one for this event but you declined. Your eyes find each other’s during the speeches multiple times, sending small smiles across the lawn.

When the eating part is over you and Kendall stay close to each other, holding hands the entire time, his arm around you. It just feels natural and you both just want to keep physical contact after everything that had happened who wouldn’t try to seek some comfort.

Maybe it’s the fact that he could have died but you just need him close to you, to feel that he’s alive. And he feels the same, he doesn’t want to get away from you. He doesn’t care about all the guest around, not really keen on striking up a conversation with anyone that isn’t his best friend.

You’re leaning into his shoulder while he smokes when Shiv and Roman come and ask to talk to him. He shrugs and tells them that he’s not interested but they are consistent and it seems like it’s urgent, so he relents and excuses himself from you for a moment. He kisses the side of your head goodbye and you hear Shiv ask ”So what? Are you together now?“ as they walk away.

The next time you’re hearing from Kendall is while you’re with Connor and he tells you about his upcoming campaign when you get an incoming call from Kendall. You excuse yourself for a moment and walk a bit away from the other guests before you answer the call. ”Y/n! We had to leave the party. We’re going to kill dad.“ he says and you furrow your brows ”Metaphorically speaking of course.“ he adds ”Wait- what? Who?“ you stammer, still confused on what is going on ”Me and the sibs.“ then he explains their plan before telling you, you can’t tell anyone about this but you wouldn’t anyway. Before hanging up he promises to call you as soon as he can and you promise him to stay with his kids until then. You stay at the ceremony, sitting with his children, you talk to Willa about her engagement and Connor reminisce about your childhood. You dance with Sophie and Iverson and briefly talk to Greg who tells you about his Comfry / Duchess dilemma and you laugh at his words. ”Nooo Greg, you can’t treat Comfry like that. She’s so nice to you“ you tell him honestly.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

”How did killing Logan went?“ you ask once Kendall comes back into the house he’s staying in. It’s late and Sophie and Iverson are already in bed. You had texted Rava earlier that you had taken the kids back to the house. You knew she was feeling better if you looked after them then when Logan did, after all he had hit iverson before. She had called to talk to the kids and you had spoken to her afterwards.

You’re sitting on the couch, skipping through the tv channels when he comes back. You glance at him as he steps into the living room and you can tell it didn’t went down smoothly. ”Tom fucked us.“ he says and your eyebrows shoot up „Are you serious?“ he sits down next to you, his head leaning back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling ”Yeah he told him about our plan.“ you would have not thought Tom would go like this against his wife. ”But the sibs and me, we’re gonna do our thing. Without dad.“ he tells you before saying ”I told them about uh, Shivs wedding.“ you know instantly what he’s referring to.

”It’s funny, Roman said the same thing you did.“ he says and you turn, so that you’re facing him ”It’s the truth Ken. It was an accident.“ you say and he looks at you, nodding a little, it’s really faint and you could have easily missed it.

”Are you hungry? The chefs already left but I got some leftovers in the fridge for you.“ he thinks then that he doesn’t deserve how much you care about him. You flew here as soon as you heard about what happened to him and now you make sure he eats. He loves you. More than a friend and he has known this for some months now. Your love is the purest most unconditional kind of love he has ever been given and he knows he needs you in his life, you make him a real person. You don’t see him as an extension of his Dad, or some famous douchebag, a Roy. You don’t see him as a killer. You see him. Kenny. Kendall. And he thinks he would like to come home to you every day. He wouldn’t dread his apartment anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that he could have died that day but he feels like he needs to get better and to confess his feelings to you finally. He can’t let this chance you two have go away again. Not if it could be everything he wanted for a long time.

"Thank you.“ he says then and you know that he’s not only talking about leftovers. "No need to, Kendall.“ you scratch his buzzed head. "I appreciate it, really. It uh it means a lot.“ he says and you answer him "Well you mean a lot to me.“ and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips. While you put the food into the microwave Kendall goes to say goodnight to his Kids. He eats on the couch next to you and after you watch some tv show you go to sleep. There are like thousand rooms in this house but it’s not a question that you are sharing a bed.

You’re laying on your side and Kendall rests on his back when he starts speaking

”I know things are difficult right now, uh with me and I know im putting a lot on you too.“ Kendall admits and you know this is hard for him. ”Its okay, Kendall. I know you’re going through some things at the moment and that’s not your fault.“ you tell him before adding

”And you don’t need to apologize, its beyond your control and of course im there for you. Like you’ve been with me when I was going through hard times.“

”Yeah but I feel like its my fault with the-“ he clears his throat ”With my relapse.“ He finally says and you swallow. Its progress that he can admit that he’s struggling again instead of telling you its fine.

”I feel like, I- I- am maybe at my breaking point.“

He turns on his side, facing you now.

”I think I need to, I need to get better. For my siblings. For you.“ you take his hand in yours ”For me, uh for me too.“ he says at last

”I think that’s a good plan, Ken.“

You whisper "I love you.“ as he drifts off to sleep and he lets himself feel a shimmer of hope that everything could get better.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You flip through the papers Jess had dropped off at Kendall’s earlier. They’re rehab facilities he could go to. Its a few days later and you’re glad he’s still planning to go.

”Do you already know wich one you’re going to?“ you ask

”I think the one in Denmark sounds good. It has an eight week programm.“ he answers and you flip to the clinic he meant.

Reading over the text it does sound nice and the pictures look good too.

”When will you go?“

”They have a spot in two days open.“ you nod

”Do you want me to come with you?“

”To Denmark? You don’t have to.“

You give him a smile ”Yeah, but that’s not what I’ve asked.“

He takes a breath looking at you sincerely

”Of course I would like you to come but I, uh, I can’t let you do that. You’ve already done so much for me.“

You shrug now

”When does the jet leave?“

••••••••••••••••••••••••

He takes his shirt you’ve worn the night before with him. It smells like you and he needs something that reminds him of you. He doesn’t tell you, but you’ve seen him put it in the suitcase. But you don’t care, you kept one of his too and there are still multiple ones around your apartment. And two months is a long time for you two to be apart.

”What happens to us if I go now?“ he asks when you’re in bed that night. His fingers drawing shapes onto your arm.

”We’ll have all the time in the world when you come back. But now you need to focus on yourself.“ you tell him cupping his face. It’s the truth but it’s also a promise. You are aware that whatever is going on between you isn’t purely platonic anymore and more than just a crush now. It’s seems like it’s always on the brink of spilling over. You hope that you can talk about it once he returns, but he needs to be clean for that so you can be sure it’s what he really wants.

”I’ll be right here.“ another promise, he won’t come back to find you in a relationship.

You’ve waited such a long time these few months won’t matter.

”I’ll be back soon.“ he says

”Take as much time as you need.“

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There are a few photographers and you’re glad for the darkened windows of the car. You arrived In Denmark yesterday evening and spent last night in a shared hotel room.

His hand is still in yours. Since it’s a private clinic with high privacy values you’re being driven through big gates that close behind you. You give him a long hug

”I’m really proud of you.“

He holds you a little tighter.

”I love you.“ he answers

”I love you too, Kenny. So much.“

”Thank you. For, uh for everything.“

”Always.“

You sit for a few more minutes holding each other before he knows it’s time to leave. He releases his arms from around you

”Goodbye Kendall.“

”Goodbye Y/n.“ he tells you and you press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

#kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fluff

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