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macfrog · 4 months

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sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

#*hits post*#*throws laptop from bridge*#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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scremogirl · 7 months

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✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★ ???

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞

Yandere Student Council Pres x Nonchalant reader

I’m not sure if I should retitle this to Yandere! Childhood friend x reader or not. There’s not a lot of the fact he’s the SCP shown in the story. I felt like I went a little off track. I got so consumed in writing😭. I already have a post like that on my page so I didn’t want to make it confusing. I don’t know if I should’ve said unemotional reader either. Idk let me know what you think. Have fun reading!

He was at the top of the food chain. Good grades, teachers liked him, students feared him, rich, good looking, and most importantly; the student council president. With that being said, why wouldn’t he leave you alone?

Takenya was a stuck up priss in your opinion. Always lecturing you about things you could do in order of improvement. You weren’t popular but you weren’t one of those weird Naruto kids that sat in the back of the class and ate crayons either. You just existed. Someone so average at everything somehow attracted the most “perfect” guy in school. Your grades were fine; a straight A-B student with the occasional C here and there. Your attendance on the other hand… well maybe he’s not so wrong about that, but who actually wants to be at school anyways?

“I don’t understand why you don’t try harder? You could easily surpass most of our class,”

“You need to come to school. This behavior would never pass in the real world. What would your employer think of you just not showing up?”

“Chocolate for lunch…really? If you want to stay healthy you’ll need to-“

Why does he care so much anyways? Sure, you used to be friends in like what, fifth grade? You used to get bullied in school for being different. You just didn’t like the things that kids your age were supposed to like. But… it never bothered you. You weren’t emotionless per se, it’s just, why care what others have to think?

Mellisa Grey. The girliest of all girls. She used to have it out for you when you were younger. Calling you names and bumping your shoulder whenever you walked by. You put up with it until the end of the year; fifth grade graduation. That evening she and her crew thought it’d be funny to pour milk on the shy little nerdy boy in your class. Some spilled on your dress, that you didn’t mind, but the tears of the boy next to you made you. Something inside of you just snapped. You shot up from your seat grabbing a first full of her hair and slammed her head onto the wooden table. Not stopping until you saw the wire of her pink, sparkly braces fly out her mouth. Well, that was what you wanted to do; the teachers came too early for you to inflict any further damage. The most you got was a broken nose and a lawsuit. She transferred schools after that, and you got the whoopin of a lifetime. You didn’t care. You didn’t feel bad at all. If anything you felt elated seeing her in pain and the rage on her parents faces as the cussed child you out. You didn’t cry or yell when your parents picked you up. You weren’t phased by the belt or the palm of your mothers hand striking you. You didn’t feel anything. So why were you so upset on someone else's behalf anyways?

You knew this kid. I mean, how couldn’t you when he would follow you around 24/7.

“H-Hi… my names Takenya” you just blankly stared. His sheepish gaze barely meets yours from behind his big fat glasses.

“…Do I know you?”

“Well…no. But I know you!”

“Good for you I guess.” You continued to go back and forth on the swing, not acknowledging the boy's existence at all. The swing he sat on remained stationary, never once dropping his gaze from you.

“Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for yesterday,” Hm? What was he talking about? He saw the confusion in your face when you turned around to ask and beat you to the point.

“You probably don’t know me. We’re not in the same class,” Right. So why is he talking to you? Again, before you could ask he cut you off.

“The other day when recess started you helped me pick up all of my stuff after Carter pushed me down; remember? I-I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me” Ohhh, you do remember him now. He was that shy little rich kid that transferred here at the end of fourth grade. He didn’t have many friends, let alone any at all. Everyone had grown up with each other and formed friend groups at this poin. He was a little late to the party so he didn’t fit in. He wasn’t worried about the next episode of Ninjago and didn’t find humor in looking up the words penis and vagina in the dictionary at the school library when the teacher wasn’t looking. His hair long, tied back into a neat ponytail and not buzzed into a Mohawk like half the boys in your grade. He had glasses that almost covered the entirety of his upper face. He always ate his pb&js on whole wheat instead of white and preferred celery sticks over fruit snacks. So, just like you, he got bullied just because he was different.

“Oh yea. I remember you now. You’re welcome by the way,” he grinned. The first time you saw him smile ever since he came to your school.

That marked the day of a long friendship.

That was until you went to middle school. You think puberty had something to do with it. He grew into his face more and sized down those jellyfishing glasses. His scrawny figure gained slightly more bulk and dressed in a more modern fashion. His hair remained the same; a bit shorter than before but still longer than most guys. You’ve always liked his hair. He would let you braid it sometimes when he was too distracted playing on his DS. He didn’t get acne like many of the other kids your grade either, skin smooth and clear. All the girls found him to die for. Your nonchalant behavior rubbed off on him and he became more confident in himself. Not letting his elementary school self be reflected into now. He became a bit too obsessed with his studies for a middle schooler; pushing all his ways on you. He would always follow you around blabbing about not attending gym class. He even started hanging around the same snotty rich kids he would complain to you about. You became annoyed. So you cut him off. Just like that. Stopped talking to him, answering his texts, not sitting with him at lunch or in class. Even after all the rejection at his advances, he came running back to you. Not willing to let you go so easily.

The school bell rings signaling the end of 4th pd and beginning of lunch. You were planning to go off campus today and not come back. Keys in hand you make your way to the student parking lot. However, someone’s blocking the exit. He’s gotten taller, about 6’2-6’3; sleeper build accommodating his height. Glasses thinner and sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Hair as long as ever, tyed back with that same white ribbon you gave him years ago; revealing an undercut. He fixes the collar of his button up and readjusts his tie and vest.

“And exactly…just where do you think your going?”

“To lunch,”

“The cafeteria is that way,” he points with a slender finger, decorated by a diamond ring. It shimers under the lights above reflecting against his matching earrings.

“Off campus,” he raises his eyebrow, folding his arms.

“Knowing you, you won’t come back. You do realize your request for a half day schedule is still pending right? You also recognize that I’m the one who assists the principal in granting them as well?” You don’t answer him, already knowing we're going with this.

“As I said before, your attendance needs improving before I-… we can grant it,” what a pain in the ass this guy is. You try to walk past him but he stops you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t eat school lunch. I’ll be back after,” he gives you an unamused look. Hand gripping your shoulder a little tighter as you try to take another step.

“You know I can’t let you do that. Not unless you don’t want a new schedule,” he pauses.

“Not unless I come with you,” you look up.

“You’re paying?” His eyes widened slightly, shocked at your willingness. But he can’t be too surprised, he knows you don’t care about anything unless you get what you want.

“Of course I am. You need to spend your money on other priorities; like a new math textbook,” you ignore the subtle jab and walk to his car. No need to ask where as he parks next to you everyday to make sure he knows you’ve actually show up. Definitely not because your the first thing he wants to see in the morning.

“I don’t understand why you come to McDonald’s of all places,” he lets out a sigh, handing his card to the drive through worker. He drives up to the next window waiting for the food.

“It’s not healthy. You seriously should consider my offer in taking you to that new place down the street,”. He looks over when he doesn’t get a response; noticing the music blasting from your headphones as you look at the door. He sighs again before taking the food from the workers hand and grabbing your headphones. You turn your head to look at him but your gaze shifts to the bag in his hand. You reach over and grab a fry out of the bag and he s his eyes. Pulling into the parking lot, he silently watches you eat. This brings him so much nostalgia. He misses eating lunch with you everyday. Ranting while you just sit there and chew. He misses having someone listening to him about something that’s not related to school. After you stopped *attempted* talking to him in the beginning of 7th grade, his heart felt like it got ripped out of his chest.

He’s never felt anything his whole life. His father would tell him that one day he’ll find someone who makes him feel everything, makes life worth it. He’d seen the love shared between his parents everyday. He always wanted that. In the fourth grade all of that came true. He saw you getting off the bus making your way to school. He saw the way you helped up Michael Lemitzki, a dorky little boy, after Conner pushed him down. Shaggy hair, braces lining his teeth, comic books all on the floor. How pathetic. You weren’t scared of Conner at all. He was bigger than you and more popular than you, but you didn’t care. You kept a straight face as he threatened you and held your composure. No emotion showing whatsoever.

He thought you were beautiful. It was love at first sight. He was too busy staring at you to hear his father calling out to him. He followed his son's gaze to you. He looked back down at the small boy and gave a knowing smile. Takenya just stared at the other boy hugging you with tears down his face. Why is he touching you like that? Push him away already! That day he purposely made himself a target to the bullying of Melissa and Conner. Hoping that one day, you’ll save him the same way you did Jacob. He got bigger glasses, grew his hair out, and started dressing like the typical “nerd”. He would leave candies in your cubby, prized limited edition Pokémon cards in your backpack, brand new color pencils and markers showed up around you. He started to lose hope though. Why haven’t you noticed him yet!? Sure he’s never actually talked to you.. but still! Could you not see his effort?! Did you not care? He sat alone at recess that fateful day. He was randomly pushed down, papers and crayons flying out his small hands. He wasn’t in the mood for Connors teasing today. To caught up on the fact that the love of his life may never see him they way he’s dreamed of. Oh the dramatic mind of a fifth grader. He clutched the safety scissors that flew out of his pencil pouch watching the dick of an elementary schooler turn around. He was about to get up but stopped as he saw someone bend down beside him. It was you! You helped gather all his things and placed them into his arms. His heart pounded in his chest and the blush on his face spread like wildfire. Before he could say anything you walked away. Taking your place on the swing set. He hurriedly put all his things away before trying to build up the courage to come talk to you. He took to long, however, as the teacher soon yelled for everyone to make their way into the line back to their respective class.

As he reminisces on the past, an alarm rings. Telling him that it’s time to make his way back to school. You’ve already finished all your food and somehow managed to take your headphones back.

“What?” You say snapping him out of his trance. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“Nothing,”

You make your way back to the school and go your separate ways. He walks you to class ensuring that you get there. Out the corner of his eye he sees someone wave to you. Lemitzki. His hairs more well kept, ditched the glasses for contacts showing of his green eyes. He’s taller and has more muscles now. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the jagged line that makes it’s way across his right cheek, interfering with his dimple as he smiles. It’s been awhile, the scar healed well. The once clutzy boy looks at the door and freezes, hand dropping and going pale. There’s a silent stare off between the two before the late bell rings. Takenya makes his way to class, a slight smile on his face at a sudden memory.

Watching him walk away, a fist tightens. Little does he know someone was planning on getting their revenge.

Hi loves! I hope you guys enjoyed. Take is an OC of mine I’ve had for a while just never had a name for him until now. Like his concept was in my head foreverrrr. He might be a reoccurring character. I really like him. But I did put one shot so I’m not sure. Lemme know what y’all want. Check out this post below for a little more context. Hope you enjoyed.

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere childhood friend #yandere student council president

3K notes · View notes

minnieminshi · 2 months

Text

Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family (it's minor and only mentioned like once)

Word Count: 9.9K (I was possessed lol)

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao.

Author's Note: this fic made me realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol. Also if I only count the days I actually sat down to write this fic it only took me 3 days lol, but I had 3 tests this week and had to be productive so that nerfed me. This is also the first fic I'm posting in this app so bare with me lol and in honor of Scoups and Jeonghan getting cleared to return to activities, I present the beginning of this series

Sporteen Masterlist

Sitting in the school’s library, all your chemistry notes laid out, you began to rethink agreeing to tutor the school’s hockey captain, Choi Seungcheol. With another glance to your phone, you sighed, ten minutes passed what the two of you agreed to meet at. If you didn’t like your chemistry teacher as much as you do, you would have never agreed to do this.

He’s a sweet guy, I’m sure he won’t give you any problems!

But it’s only ten minutes and sometimes things come up. Maybe he’d walk in after a few more minutes and then you two could finally start.

Except those ten minutes slowly morphed into thirty minutes, forty five minutes, and now suddenly it’s an hour and not a single word from Choi Seungcheol about where the hell he’s at.

And while having to wait an hour for someone to show up to something they needed sucked, that’s not what pissed you off. What pissed you off was the fact that after this tutoring session, you had a date with Changkyun, set up by your friend Somin, but thanks to the no show Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush home, get your little brother ready for the evening and get ready for your date. And while you could hypothetically get everything done in time, you would prefer it if you didn’t have to rush. Your little brother’s probably gonna complain about his quick dinner of chicken nuggets and macaroni after you promised him yesterday you’d make him what he called an “actual meal.” You reminded him that he was twelve and fully capable of cooking for himself and suddenly the quick meal was the best thing he’s ever eaten.

So he could survive a rushed meal, however getting ready for your date was a different story. Rushing to get ready in the morning for school was one thing. You could halfass an outfit and get your brother out the door in fifteen minutes flat if your mom was already at work, but you needed a little more time to actually look good enough for someone who wasn’t related to you or hasn’t seen you slumped over your desk with textbooks and notes sprawled all over the floor.

Now, because of Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush, something you wished wouldn’t happen.

“Sweet guy my ass,” you mutter under your breath as you begin shoving your things into your backpack. Just as you finished shoving the last textbook into your backpack, a deep voice caught you off guard before you rolled your eyes.

“Where’re you going princess, aren’t you gonna tutor me?”

Oh?

Letting out a low chuckle, you turn to face the captain who you wished you could smack that smirk off his face and crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned against the table. “Tutor you? I agreed to tutor you an hour ago, and since that’s passed, I’m heading home to go enjoy my evening.”

As you turned around to grab your backpack and go home, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see him holding onto you, a hesitant look in his eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shook his hand off.

“Look, I’m sorry about being late, but something came up.” He muttered, his hand falling to his side as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. You scoffed as you shouldered your bag. “Too busy to send a heads up?”

You look up to see a light blush dust his cheeks as he looks away from you, and if you weren’t so pissed at him, you’d find him kinda cute.

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed as you glance at the clock on the wall, and with a sigh, you turn to the hockey player. “Look, I have plans so I can give you 45 minutes.”

“Forty five minutes? That’s barely any time to learn anything,” he complained with a small pout on his lips as you rolled your eyes. “Take it or leave it Choi, you’re the one who was late.”

He let out a small huff before agreeing to the terms, pulling out a chair as you pulled out your phone, setting an alarm for exactly 45 minutes. Thankfully tutoring him wasn’t terrible, he actually seemed to listen to you and he even took notes while you explained the most recent lesson to him. Maybe if he was kind enough to send a message earlier you might actually feel bad about leaving, but alas that wasn’t the case.

With the default alarm ringing, you began packing up your things once again, this time, really just throwing everything with no regard as to how things landed in your bag. With a little speeding you should be able to make it home in about fifteen minutes which gives you about ten minutes to make your brother’s dinner and have about thirty minutes to get ready for your date. Perfect timing as long as you leave right now.

Just as you begin to walk away, pulling up your little brother’s contact to tell him you’re on your way, Seungcheol calls you out. “Are we still good for next week?” You freeze, slowly turning to look at him as your phone rings. “Next week? Listen Choi, I think it’s best if you find someone else to tutor you.”

Before he can say anything, you cut him off. “Listen, I have things to take care of after school and I can’t wait for over an hour, wondering if you’ll show up. I’ll tell Ms. Park to find someone else and we don’t have to worry about seeing each other again.” With that, you walk out the library, your little brother having finally picked up and making things easier for you as he grabbed all the food you told him to.

Looks like things will be going back to normal after today, no more having to worry about Choi Seungcheol.

Or so you thought.

What you didn’t expect to see when coming to pick up your little brother from his little hockey club practice is Choi Seungcheol out on the ice, with your little brother excitedly talking to him about who knows what.

You internally groan, why, just why did he have to be the one to coach your little brother’s team. And why did you have to say you’d never see him again, it’s like you were asking for the universe to play a cruel prank on you by making sure this would happen to you.

Weeks ago, when your little brother asked you if you could start taking him to a hockey club he joined every Saturday, you didn’t see any issue with it initially. As long as he had the proper gear (that your guys’ mom provided) you thought it was great he found a sport he enjoyed after he burned through basketball, soccer, tennis, and baseball in a matter of a few years. Plus it meant you could have Saturday to yourself for a few hours while everyone else was out of the house. So a win-win in your book.

Or so it was a win before you were left in disbelief, standing off to the side as you watched him talk to Seungcheol. You shook your head, calling out his name as you made your way to the plexiglass wall, wanting to go home. You made the rookie mistake of walking into the rink with no jacket, thinking it would be a quick run of picking him up and going back home. How foolish of you to think things would work out for you.

You let out a small gasp as you made eye contact with your little brother, holding it for a few seconds, only to have him ignore you and continue to talk to his coach, who you knew was aware of your presence. You groan, grounding the heels of your palms into your eyes. Oh how you wished you were an only child in moments like this. Instead you were cursed to be a big sister to a little brother who made your life oh so difficult.

Calling out his name one more time, he finally looked over at you and started to make his way off the rink. You sighed, thankful you weren’t going to have to resort to actually going out on the ice to drag him out.

“Took you long enough, I’m freezing over here,” you said once he was at the wall, carefully stepping onto the non-frozen ground with his skates. “That’s on you for not bringing a jacket into the rink.”

“And that’s on you when all you get for dinner is a slice of bread,” you say when you hand him his sneakers that he had put on the seats before practice had started, and where his backpack was. “Can’t believe you feed me like I’m some paperboy from the 1900s,” he grumbled, but he took the shoes.

Before you could shoot back a reply, Seungcheol skates up to the wall, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes, wishing he’d go back to doing figure eights or whatever the hell he does on the ice. He calls out your name but you choose to pretend you don’t hear him, instead leaning down to grab your brother’s backpack, a small groan leaving your lips from the sheer weight in his bag. It’s like he carries rocks in this thing, you complain as you shoulder the bag. He shoots you a look as if asking why are you carrying my backpack, but he doesn’t question it, you know the whole gift horse saying.

Just as he finishes tying his shoe, Seungcheol crosses the threshold, leaning against the door as he eyes you. You could feel your eye twitching as you watched him what looked like inspect you, and you fight back a groan when he smirks at you.

“What happened to never seeing each other again prin-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you grit out, hoping your little brother could help you if he truly cared about you. You glance over at him, and just from the look in his eyes, you know he’s not helping you out. It’s like his eyes are shining with awe just from being near Seungcheol and you wonder what your little brother sees in him.

He can’t be that great, you still– well hate’s not the word, that’s too strong, it’s more so you greatly dislike him for what he did a week ago. You still think it was shitty of him to not tell you anything about being late. And of course his cocky personality is really starting to get on your nerves, especially when he calls you princess, as if you two are that close. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times and yet he calls you a petname as if you’ve known each other for ages. It just makes your skin crawl.

“You know each other?” Your brother asks, poking his head into the conversation as he looks between the two of you. Before you could say anything, Seungcheol butts in, “she tutors me.”

Your jaw drops as he smiles, as if he didn’t just lie to your little brother. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he finds a new way to piss you off. You dryly chuckle as you grab your brother’s shoulder, trying to guide him away so you can leave. “I don’t, now come on, I gotta start prepping dinner.”

“But it’s Saturday, we usually eat out today,” he says and you give him a tightlipped smile. “I just feel like cooking today so why don’t we go home now.”

At that, it seems like your brother finally puts the pieces together, and nods his head. Just as the two of you are about to leave the rink, Seungcheol calls out your name once again. Already knowing what he’s going to ask you shake your head. “I’ll tell Ms. Park on Monday to find someone else to help you.”

And with that, you’re gone and Seungcheol’s on his own again, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to get his chemistry grade up without your help.

“Do you hate Scoups hyung?” Your brother asks once you pull out of the parking lot, your car currently playing I’ll Make a Man Out of You as you let out a confused sound. “Scoups? Is that what you guys call him,” you chuckle, finding the nickname a little silly.

“He said he doesn’t like people calling him his full name,” he explains with a shrug. “Now, do you hate him?”

Wow, he’s really not letting this go.

You sigh as you look over to your right. He’s looking at you expectantly, as if there’s this great and terrible backstory to explain why you wanted to leave the rink as soon as the hockey player approached you. When you tell your brother what happened a few days ago between the two of you, he just rolls his eyes. Yes rolls his eyes, as if being forced to wait an hour for someone to show up isn’t a good enough reason to dislike a person.

“He apologized, what’s the big deal?” He asks, and it’s moments like this when you're reminded your brother is just a boy. “It’s the fact he made me wait an hour with no heads up that I’m still upset about.” Your brother looks over at you, a small smile on his face. “I think he’s a good guy, I’m sure he had a reason why he was late. I don’t think he meant to blow you off like that.”

You blink, letting his words sink in for a moment before shaking your head, focusing back on the road. “Let’s stop talking about Choi and focus back on planning your essay that you have due on Monday.”

He groans, throwing his head back onto the headrest, complaining about why his teacher needed them to write about an important person in their life. “I’m going to write about our dog,” he mutters once the two of you pull up into the parking lot of your apartment. You chuckle, locking the car as he holds open the elevator for you. “We don’t even have a dog.”

“Ms. Kang doesn’t know that.” He shrugs and sometimes you wonder how your brother’s made it this far. “Whatever you say Frosty, but that essay better be done by tomorrow since mom wants us to go out to eat for dinner.”

“Hey Frosty’s a pretty good name for a dog, you think I could use it for a husky?”

“You know what, go crazy dude.”

The last thing you expect when you were walking to the parking lot, heading over to the middle school to go pick up your brother, was to be pinned against a wall in the science building, much less to see Choi Seungcheol, on his knees, begging for you to not talk to Ms. Park.

You could only blink, wondering what the hell has gotten into him. Did he hit his head too hard from a fall on the ice or something? Feeling a little embarrassed, you try getting him back on his feet before anyone walks down the hall. Thankfully he gets up, but unfortunately he keeps you pinned to the wall, towering over you.

“Choi, what the fuck’s gotten into you,” you mutter, trying to push him slightly away from you, putting some breathing space between the two of you.

“Please don’t talk to Ms. Park to find a replacement tutor.” He quietly says and you could feel your jaw drop. No fucking way he’s still on this. You put your hands on his shoulders, effectively getting him to look at you. “You can’t be serious.”

He groans as he closes his eyes, as if he was thinking of what the best thing to say is. One of your eyebrows raise as you wait to see what he says, and what looks like great reluctance from him, he finally confesses his woes.

“There’s a big tournament coming up in a month and if I wanna play, I need to get my chem grade up.”

You stare at him for a few seconds. That’s it? Why would this concern you? Feeling a little nice, you don’t voice out your thoughts and instead ask, “so what does that have to do with me? You can just find another tutor.”

He shakes his head and you tilt your head to the side, now intrigued on what he could possibly say.

“You’re the only person who actually makes chemistry make sense so if I want a chance to pass this class,” he looks up and your breath hitches when you look into his eyes. You never noticed how pretty his eyes are, or how fucking long his eyelashes are. Shaking those thoughts away, you notice what looks like hope in his eyes, and you realize he really thinks you’ll help him. “I need your help.”

You blink, trying to weigh your options. While you still hold a grudge against him for the first tutoring session, this tournament’s important to him. The two of you are seniors, and depending on his plans for after graduation, this may be the last time he gets to play the sport. Then of course, you can’t stop thinking about what your brother said the other day, and unfortunately for you, you trust your brother’s judgment. And if Seungcheol’s ineligible to play, you really don’t want that to affect your brother’s team. He’s grown to love the sport in the weeks he’s played and you really don’t want him to lose his growing passion.

You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall. “Fine, I won’t talk to her.” He smiles and before he could thank you, you cut him off. “But just know I’m doing this for my brother, he really seems to like you and I don’t want you failing to affect your coaching.”

“I’ll take it as long as you’re agreeing to keep tutoring me,” he smiles and you’re stunned into silence for a few seconds when you see dimples dot his cheeks. You shake out of it and wiggle out of his grasp. “Yeah, just make sure you’re not late without a heads up, Choi.”

The next few weeks are filled with Choi Seungcheol, and you’re not sure how you feel about that statement just yet. In the beginning, you were still a bit reluctant, still fearing he’d be late with no excuse, but at your first tutoring session, he had arrived at the library before you. You were walking to some of the tables at the back of the library when you heard someone call your name, only to see it was Seungcheol, who had reserved a study room for the two of you and already had all of his notes out.

You felt a little bad even though you arrived on time. You had to drop your brother at home so you couldn’t meet right after school, but you did your best to get there as soon as possible.

He was very attentive while you explained everything to him and you wondered how he was failing chemistry in the first place when it seemed like he knew all the topics. It was when the two of you got to the practice problems did you see where the problems were coming from.

Your teacher, Ms. Park, has the tendency to make half of your homework situational problems, where you had to apply the basic knowledge that, on its own, was quite simple, but once put in a non-laboratory setting became a lot more difficult if one didn’t have a complete grasp on the concept. And that’s what you suspect is happening to Seungcheol, and the reason he was failing the class. Good thing you caught on in the beginning of these sessions and you could plan accordingly.

It was another tutoring session when your phone started ringing, you grabbed your phone, confused on who was calling you when you excused yourself, leaving him to work on a problem on his own while you stepped out into the study room next door to take the call.

Your eyes widen when you hear your little brother’s quiet voice on the other end, hoarse as he asks if you could come back home. You tell him you’re on your way before hanging up the call, and rushing into the study room you were just in.

Seungcheol jumped at your sudden intrusion, but before he could complain about you scaring him, you started to throw your things into your bag, grabbing your keys. “I’m sorry but my little brother’s sick so I gotta go take care of him.”

You were halfway through the door when you turned to look at him, “I’ll make it up to when he’s all better!” And just like that, you were out the door, apologizing to the little kid you almost bulldozed down in your rush to your car.

You make it back home in a new record, most definitely going past the speed limits as you skid into the parking spot in the parking garage, haphazardly raising your hand with your keys in hand in the air as you run towards the elevator, not double checking to see if you actually locked your car. If you didn’t live on the fifth floor, you’d actually consider taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, but alas, not even the haze of trying to get to your little brother was enough for you to suddenly have an increase in stamina.

Thankfully the elevator didn’t take long and you were able to make it to your apartment, throwing open the door as you tossed your backpack down the hallway. You rush into the living room to see your little brother laying across the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. He’s really out of it if he didn’t even bother to look up at all the noise you made trying to get in. You sigh before heading to the bathroom, looking for a thermometer and to check if there was anything you could give him over the counter.

Tsking at the 100.4° on the small screen, you wiped a damp towel over his forehead, wondering how he got this bad in the span of the 45 minutes that you were gone. He didn’t look too bad when you had picked him up from school, tired sure, but not knocking on death’s door like he is now. You were about to give him the medicine you found when there was a knock at the door. Not knowing who it could be, you quickly gave your brother the medicine and headed to the door.

You check through the peephole and take a step back, your jaw slacking as you realize who’s on the other side of your door.

Choi Seungcheol.

How the fuck did he figure out where you live? You don’t remember telling him and last time you checked, your address wasn’t public knowledge. Shaking off the initial shock, you open the door, now curious as to why he’s here. Before he could explain his sudden visit, you beat him to the punch. “How the hell do you know where I live?”

He pointed to the floor above you. “Jeonghan told me, plus it was listed on the emergency contacts your brother filled out.” You blinked at him, wondering why your upstairs neighbor would rat you out like that, or how he knew your exact unit number. Whatever, what’s done is done. You point at the convenience store bag in his hand, asking about what he has.

He brings his free hand to scratch the back on his neck, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips, avoiding eye contact. “I- uh got kinda worried and wanted to check up on you guys.” He brings the bag up, “I don’t know what he’s sick with so I just got the generic stuff and I brought snacks.”

You stare at him for a few moments before chuckling, thanking him as you take the bag from him and gesture for him to follow you into the apartment. He hesitates for a second before you nod at him, assuring him that it’s okay. He slips his shoes off and sets them down next to yours, following you into the apartment.

Your little brother looks a little better, actually looking up when the two of you walk into the living room (it’s only a few steps past the little entryway). He looks at the two of you for a second before laying back down. He shoots back up, as if wondering if Seungcheol is actually in your guys’ apartment.

“Real or am I hallucinating?”

You laugh as you adjust the towel over his forehead, “as crazy as it looks, he’s real. Now you should lie back down while I make you a porridge to eat.” He nods his head, laying back down as he adjusts the towel to sit over his eyes. You expected Seungcheol to stay in the living room with your brother, you didn’t expect him to follow you into the kitchen, asking if he could help you. Getting over the initial shock, something that keeps happening whenever you’re around him apparently, and start telling him to grab everything that you need.

It was funny to see him panic everytime you left him on his own to check on your brother, his eyes wide as his head kept snapping from the stove to you. Who knew the tough hockey captain could get so nervous by being left alone in the kitchen?

Thankfully it didn’t take long for the porridge to be made, and once you confirmed that your brother was able to keep his food down, you went back into the kitchen. “How do you like your ramen Choi?”

You turn to see him pouting and for some reason you feel the urge to poke his cheeks. Weird.

“Why do you keep calling me Choi?” He complains, leaning against the counter as he watches you take out another pot and two packages of your favorite ramen brand. You look over your shoulder, closing the cabinet before standing back up. “Would you prefer me calling you by your full name?” You tease, smiling as you see his cheeks turn the softest shade of pink. He stumbles over his words before you hear him mutter a quiet no, and you just laugh.

“I just don’t get why you call me by my last name instead of what everyone else calls me,” he says, handing you an egg when you ask for one. You shrug, “it started when you blew me off the first tutoring session and it kinda stuck.”

“What do I have to do for you to call me something other than my last name,” he begs, and you laugh at how serious this is for him. You didn’t think his name would be this sore spot for him, but it is amusing to see him so stressed over something so small. You look over at him while the water’s boiling, biting your lip as you pretend to think it over. “Get over a 90 on our next chem test and I might consider it.”

His jaw drops as he stands there frozen for a few seconds before groaning. “A 90? Listen, you're a great tutor but our next test is in literally three days and the best I’m getting is probably a mid 70.”

“Then Choi it is,” you reply, grabbing two bowls. At least he believes he can pass this next test, that’s some progress. Before he can start complaining, you both freeze when you hear your little brother yell out, “can you two stop flirting and get me another bowl of porridge,” and before you can yell at him for even saying that he throws in a little “please” at the end. Wow, how polite of him.

“We’re not flirting!” You say, walking into the living room to take his bowl, and as much as you want to tackle him to the ground for even suggesting you’re flirting with the hockey player, you decide to take pity on him, this time. He’s lucky his body failed him today.

Once your sickly brother is content with his second bowl of porridge, you take your and Seuncheol’s bowls to your small dining table. He follows and you go back for utensils, asking what he’d like to drink. Once everything is set on the table, the two of you start eating in a comfortable silence, the show your brother was watching filling the otherwise silent apartment. Your eyes fall to his backpack that was by the door and you swallow what’s in your mouth before motioning to his bag.

“Wanna continue with where we left off? I really think if we can get past this topic you can definitely score somewhere in the 80s.” His eyes follow at what you’re pointing at, and he nods, finishing his bowl before getting up to grab his backpack, and even getting your backpack that you had thrown earlier.

The two of you pick up where you left off, occasionally taking breaks when your little brother claims he needs your assistance with what he calls “surviving” when in all actuality it was just him wanting another refill of his water.

It was nearing 8 o’clock when the two of you were done for the day. As he was gathering his things, your brother got enough strength to get off the couch, heading to his room before waving bye to Seungcheol, telling him he’d definitely be good to go to practice on Saturday. The hockey player laughs as he leans over the table to fist bump him, telling him he better keep his word. You smile at the exchange, happy to see your brother doing better.

“Come on, I’ll see you down,” you say when he’s gotten all his things. Before he can argue with you about it being unnecessary, you wave him off, saying how it’s the least you could do after he came all the way over to check up on the two of you.

The two of you are in the elevator when he finally speaks again.

“Is it usually the two of you this late into the evening?” He asks, his eyes hesitantly flitting from your face to the wall next to your head. You hum, leaning against the railing with your eyes closed, “our mom works late at the hospital and…” You trail off, opening your eyes to see Seungcheol watching you, something in his eyes that makes you look away, the floor suddenly a lot more interesting to look at. Why does he look at you with so much care?

“Our dad left when my brother was a couple of months old so it's just been us three,” you say, not quite believing you're actually telling him this about yourself. Hell, you don’t even know if he has siblings and yet you’re out here telling him your family life. Crazy what some dimples and pretty brown eyes can do to a girl.

“Oh.”

Ah, probably should’ve lied about your absent father. Something about him working late should’ve been excuse enough. Well, too late for that you internally groan at. Before you can apologize for making things awkward, he interrupts you.

“Can we move our tutoring sessions to your place?”

Your jaw drops for a few seconds before you snap out of it, blinking to try to get your brain caught up to speed. “Why?”

He sighs, turning away to face the elevator doors and you’ve never been more thankful for someone to stop looking at you. “I kinda hate the idea of your little brother waiting at home by himself while you’re tutoring me.”

“He’s twelve, but as long as you don’t mind coming over here,” you say, glancing over at him, “then okay, we can move to our apartment.” He smiles and you feel this weird pang in your chest. The last time you felt this excited over a person was when you were getting ready for your date with Changkyun the other day. Does that mean you’re starting to actually enjoy Seungcheol’s company?

Bound to happen considering you spend your Monday and Wednesday afternoons with the guy. It’s just, it feels different than what you felt with Changkyun and part of you just wants to bury that thought away and focus on anything else. Thankfully the elevator ride didn’t last too long and you walked Seungcheol to his car, your chest feeling a little bit tighter as you watched him drive away.

It’s Saturday and you’re back at the rink to pick up your brother from practice. He’d gotten better and while you were hesitant to drop him off at practice, he insisted that he was all good to practice. You let him go, but not without texting Seungcheol before heading over to practice, asking him to keep an eye on your brother. This was the first time you texted him about something other than about your tutoring sessions and while your hands were shaking just thinking about talking to him about something other than chemistry, thankfully he agreed to keep an eye on your brother.

You grab a jacket from the backseat, not wanting to freeze while you wait for your brother. He always manages to be the last one out of the rink, always talking to Seungcheol while everyone else skates towards the door to change out of their skates and into their shoes.

And just like the past couple of weeks, your brother was still out on the ice, except instead of the two standing to the side talking about their practice, the two were skating over across the ice, the small black puck gliding between the two of them as they pass the puck amongst themselves. If you squint, you can see what you assumed is Seungcheol giving your brother tips because soon he nods and adjusts his hold on his stick.

Then, catching the two of you off guard, he steals the puck from the hockey player, successfully scoring a goal on the unguarded net. Your mouth falls open before cheering for your brother. Sure it wasn't a game changing play, but you were still proud of him. Upon hearing your cheering, your brother skates to the wall where you’re standing, the short wall and the plexiglass the only thing separating the two of you.

“Did you see that! I totally got him good!” He excitedly told you and you smiled. “Sure did dude, next time I think you should go for his knees, then you’d have no one stopping you,” you joke, smiling as your little brother laughs, complaining how that’s “not very good sportsmanship” but winks at you when Seungcheol skates over to the two of you, wiping off some of the ice shavings off his pants.

“I can’t believe you’re telling your brother to kill me, princess,” he pouts and you roll your eyes, glad it’s so cold in the rink you can’t tell if your face is burning from the petname or from the freezing temperatures. You roll your eyes, pulling the collar of your jacket higher in an effort to cover your face. “Isn’t that part of the sport Choi, pushing and shoving each other?”

He shrugs, a smile on his face. “Glad to see you know something about the sport, I see Frosty over has been teaching you.” Your brother groans when he hears his coach use the nickname you gave him once he started hockey. It started off as a small joke that somehow morphed to having the whole team only ever calling him Frosty. Hey, at least he’s already got a marketable name, you told him one day when you were driving back home after practice a few weeks ago.

You shrug, tugging your jacket tighter. In all actuality your brother hadn’t explained the sport all that much besides the occasional “you don’t do that” or “that’s a good thing” or other vague explanations when you ask him questions. Instead, after a tutoring session with Seungcheol, and as a way to procrastinate an essay you had to work on, you decided to look into the sport. It wasn’t much, just a quick google search about the rules that had you clicking off the site after a few paragraphs and instead watching a couple of matches on youtube. You had half the mind to ask Seungcheol but decided against it. You were just supposed to be tutoring him in chemistry and you thought learning more about the sport he put years in was a little much for you. (And the thought of him in his full uniform was starting to make your heart ache just a little much.)

“Might as well since I come here once a week,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles, and you wish he didn’t have such a cute smile. His gummy smile is going to be the death of you, you think as you look over to see if your brother’s got his shoes on.

You don’t know when you started to see Seungcheol in a different light. Probably around the time your brother got sick since that was the first time you got to see him not in a school setting. Or to be more exact, the moment he asked if your tutoring sessions could be moved to your apartment so you could watch over your brother. Whenever it was, you wished it didn’t happen.

After the results of the chemistry test the two of you have a week, your tutoring sessions would be over since by then you’d know whether or not he’d be good to compete in the tournament. While a part of you was sad to think about not being with him every Monday and Wednesday with him, you’re at least happy about the fact his grade’s would be doing better. And sure, at first you were helping him out reluctantly, but after spending so much time with him, you realized he was nothing like you originally thought he was like.

Your first meeting really was just a fluke, and he was just a nice guy. You actually had asked him after a few sessions why he was so late to the first tutoring session and you can remember the cute blush that grew on his face as he explained how he was planning the youth hockey team’s practice and lost track of the time. He looked so cute, his cheeks a rosy pink and a small pout on his lips, and that’s when you thought, yeah, he’s not that bad of a guy.

“Okay, I’m good to go,” your brother says, and you blink, snapping out of your thoughts. You nod, extending your hand to help him carry some of his gear. Noticing your empty motions, Seungcheol takes a step towards you but you shake your head. “I’ll see you on Monday Choi.”

“Yeah… see you later, princess.”

You’re really, truly fucked, you come to realize as you stare at your phone. Why, just why did you have to send that text?

Your friend, who was under the impression you still hated Seungcheol for blowing you off the first tutoring session, asked if there was a way you could set her up with him for a date. And you, still not wanting to admit the fact that you’ve definitely started catching feelings for the captain, agreed to set the two up. And trying to convince yourself that the warm feeling you get in your chest from just seeing him smile meant nothing, you sent a text wondering if he was down to meet with your friend over the weekend.

And now you’re waiting for a response, hoping that he won’t agree to the date. Hell, you’re on your knees hoping that even if he does say yes, that it goes horrible so they don’t keep meeting. Terrible, yes, but your heart can’t handle the idea of someone who isn’t you by his side. And yet you still won’t admit that you have a crush on him. (Denial is one hell of a drug.)

When you hear your phone go off from a notification, you push yourself off the floor, where you’ve made home the past couple of minutes. With a shaky hand, you flip your phone over, clicking on the notification.

Choi 🏒: tell her sorry, I’m not interested in dating right now 🫤

Oh.

He’s not interested in dating right now? For some reason that hurts more than if he said he is interested in the date. With a shaky inhale you text him back, letting him know you’ll let her know and you toss your phone away, burying your face against your knees.

Okay so maybe you do have a crush on Seungcheol, big fucking hurray.

You’re walking back to your car when you hear someone calling out your name. You recognize the voice and freeze, wondering what Seungcheol wants with you and wishing he’d just leave you alone. Despite him doing nothing wrong, you really don’t want to see him right now, especially since you were going to use the drive back home to prepare yourself for your tutoring session with him.

He runs up to you, a smile on his face as he blocks you from opening the driver’s side. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “What’s up Choi?”

“I came by to tell you that I can’t make it to today’s session.” He explains and you notice how his cheeks are tinted pink. Just how far was he running from? You give him a look as you lean against your car. “So why didn’t you just text me then?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Your eyes widen as you turn to face him fully. You feel your face burn as you try unsuccessfully to say something in return. He smiles and you want nothing more than to wipe his adorable smile off his face. The fact he doesn’t even know the emotional turmoil he’s putting you through is insane and you wish he didn’t have this much power over you. You try coughing, covering your face as you look away from him. “Yeah, whatever, is that all you have to say?”

He nods and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats and still with that frustratingly cute smile, his stupid dimples on full display, “I’m still good for Wednesday though, I want to celebrate our last session before the test Friday.” You nod, a tight lipped smile on display as you wave him goodbye.

Once in the comfort of your car, you groan, dropping your head on the steering wheel, wishing you weren’t so crushed over this. Things come up all the time, it’s not a big deal he can’t make it today. If anything you can just use this time to get your homework done for the week so you don’t have to worry about it later. Maybe instead of groveling over a guy you could actually be productive for once.

Wednesday rolls around and you don’t think you’ve given yourself a chance to think about Seungcheol. How could you when you’ve been busy doing your homework, planning what you’d cover in today’s session, helping your brother with his homework, doing all the chores around the apartment, and if you weren’t busy with all that you had your headphones on, not even giving yourself the chance to think. Who needs to think when you’ve been so busy?

You pull out of the parking lot of the middle school, your little brother grabbing your phone to change the song that was playing. Sticking to a song that you hoped wouldn’t show up on your spotify wrapped, you keep driving, your thoughts starting to drift off to Seungcheol. Catching yourself, you will yourself to listen to the song your brother chose, and you wonder which was worse for your mental health.

Once in the comfort of your apartment, your little brother heads off to his room claiming how he doesn’t want to watch his older sister flirt with his hockey coach while he does his homework. At first you’d argue that you weren’t but as of late you knew there was no saving yourself and didn’t even try to fight back anymore, only groaning as you started to set the table.

A few minutes later you hear someone at the door and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to get through your last session and as a way to prepare your heart for the inevitable. Seungcheol smiles as he steps inside, slipping off his shoes as he places them next to yours. You turn around and your eyes widen as your face heats up as you take in his appearance. He was just wearing a pair of sweats and a black shirt and yet you could feel your heartbeat race at the sight. You quickly turn around, pretending to adjust your notebook as you try to calm your beating heart. He’s worn that outfit combo tons of times and yet now your heart decides to give you trouble.

If he notices your internal struggle, he doesn’t say anything. He takes his seat at the table, taking out his things as you finally look at him to start. Hopefully your heart can take the next few hours, if not, thankfully your mom’s a registered nurse.

“Hey princess,” he starts and you, against your better judgment, smile at the petname, “can I ask you something.” You put your pencil down, turning to face him as he put his pencil down, the problem you had given him to work on an afterthought. “Sure, go ahead.”

“If I ace this test will you come watch me play in my tournament?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with hope and you find yourself leaning against your hand to cover your mouth so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face. “When you say ace, how high of a score are we talking here,” you tease. You don’t know where this sudden confidence came from but if it helps you from burning away in your seat, you’ll take it.

He smirks, leaning close to you and your breath hitches, freezing in your seat. “I say at least a mid 90.” You chuckle, leaning in close as you internally scream at yourself to back the fuck away from him. “Sure, you got yourself a deal, but I’m expecting the best from you Choi.” You say, beginning to turn away so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face.

“Of course, can't disappoint my princess, can I?” His pointer finger and thumb gently hold your chin, making you look at him and his stupid smug face that you so desperately want to kiss.

Oh yeah, your heart’s definitely going to explode.

You think you mutter something along the lines of “in your dreams Choi” but at this point you’re not even sure you can still rangle up enough brain cells to formulate a coherent thought. Heat floods your cheeks as he still holds your face and you swear you see his eyes fall to your lips, or at least you think they do. You’re too busy staring at his lips to really be too sure.

Somehow your one brain cell manages to scramble enough thoughts to control your body, except it makes you lean in closer to him, close enough you can feel his breath hover over your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and just when you think everything is going great you hear your little brother yell your name from his room and that’s enough to snap the two of you out of the daze you’re in. You clear your throat, excusing yourself as you push out your chair and head to your brother’s room, wondering what the hell he needs that he just needs you right now.

“What do you want?” You hiss out, leaning against the doorframe of his room. He looks up from his desk, papers scattered across the wooden surface as he turns his swivel chair to face you. He shrugs, “I felt this weird disturbance in the force and called you over here.”

It takes everything in you to not throw him across his room. You sigh, “yeah that disturbance was born twelve years ago.”

“Hey!” He throws a pokemon plushie, piplup if you remember correctly, at you. You duck and the plushie hits your bedroom door behind you. You turn around to pick it up, only to immediately throw it back at him, and successfully manage to hit him in the head with it. He stumbles back in his chair and you laugh at him. He glares at you for a moment before breaking out into laughter as well. “Okay fine good aim, I’ll give it to you,” he acknowledges with a surrender of his hands, the plushie back on his shelves, joining the rest of his collection. “Now go back to tutoring Scoups hyung so you can make dinner.”

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You can always make dinner, you should probably start now since I’ll be going off to coll-”

“Don’t say the c word!” He interrupts, a new pokemon plushie in hand. His eyes are wide and your smile softens before it’s turning into a small pout. The past year you’ve been trying to teach your brother how to take care of things around the apartment since soon it’ll just be him waiting for your mom to come home, but each time he always changes the subject, or even resorting to throwing his plushies to stop the conversation. In that moment you don’t see your twelve year old brother who loves to get on your nerves, instead you see your baby brother who never left your side for anything. Your other half despite the six year difference between the two of you.

Before you know it, your throat tightens up as you watch him lower the plushie, turned away so he’s not looking at you. “Um… you should probably go back to Scoups hyung.” His voice is small, like if speaks any louder and he might start crying.

You nod, slowly backing out of his room, “yeah, just let me know if you need anything.” You turn to walk out when you turn back to face him, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight.” His head perks up and you smile at him, to which he returns.

You make it back to the living room to see Seungcheol working on the problems you had left him. You let out a small chuckle, and he looks up, smiling when he notices your back. “Everything okay?”

You nod, “he’s fine, he was just a little bored.” He smiles and the two of you get back to your homework. Soon enough, the two of you finish, even with the practice you gave him to really prepare him for your upcoming test, and you relax in your seat, a smile on your face. Seungcheol faces you, his smile growing as he looks from his papers to you. “Thank you, I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”

You wave his compliment off, your smile perpetually stuck on your face when you're around him. “Nope, it’s all you Choi, I’m simply here to help you. Now you’ve gotta ace this test so I can go watch you win this tournament.” He smiles and you don’t think you’d ever find dimples this cute on another person in your life.

“Anything for you, princess.”

You’re walking out of your last period class when you hear Seungcheol call your name out. You turn around, already smiling since you know what this is going to be about, and judging by his voice, it’s going to be good news.

He runs up to you, stapled papers in hand and you just know it’s his chemistry test. He makes it infront of you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders in an effort to stabilize himself, his test pressing against your shoulder. “I got my results back!”

You laugh, your hands coming up to rest over his, smiling and feeling heat begin to creep up your face at the close proximity. “I can tell, but come on I’m dying to know what you got Choi.” A light blush grows on his face as his smile grows, his hands moving away from your shoulders as he straightens up his test since it had gotten crumpled during everything.

Once it was straightened out, he flipped it over, handing the test to you. You take the test and your eyes widen when you see the large 100 written next to his name. You look up to see him smiling and in your excitement, you pull him into a hug. “Oh my god! I knew you could do it, this is amazing!” He tightens his hold on you, picking you off the ground to spin you in a hug. You’re laughing as he gently sets you down, you’re smiling so much your cheeks are starting to hurt but you don’t even care right now. You’re just so happy for Seungcheol, happy that this means he gets to play in his tournament.

He pulls you into another hug, muttering into your hair, “thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” You pull him closer, “of course Cheol.”

The day of the tournament arrived and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. Seungcheol and the team have been doing great all day, moving farther and farther up the rackets, and yet you’re still nervous. It probably has to deal with the fact neither of you really discussed what happened last week, the whole really intimate hug in the middle of the hallway and all that. You two actually were texting back and forth the past week, and yet neither of you dared to talk about the hallway incident.

Just like how neither one of you spoke about the almost kiss back in your apartment.

So your nerves are most definitely tied to whatever you got going on with the captain of the hockey, the very same captain who’s leading his team to victory. This is the first time you’re seeing Seungcheol in his full uniform and damn, he looks good in his uniform. Something about how it makes him look larger just makes your heart beat faster every time he skates by where you’re sitting.

The first time he skated by, you watched as he did a double-take before smiling his gummy smile, dimples on full display and waving at you and your brother, who insisted on coming along. (You weren’t going to tell him no, of course you’re going to bring him along.) Occasionally, he’d shoot you a look, smiling at you and you’d wave at him, feeling your face burn up every time.

It’s the final match of the day, and you don’t think you’ve screamed this much in your life. You always make sure to cheer for Seungcheol every time he makes a goal, and halfway through the day, it turns into a competition between you and your brother on who could cheer the loudest for him. And you’re not about to lose against your brother.

Somehow the match had gone into overtime due to the teams being tied and you’re at the edge of your seat, your little brother in the same position. At some point he grabbed your gloved hand, squeezing tight as they entered the sudden death overtime. (Why the hell is it called that?) You squeeze his hand as you watch Seungcheol go head to head against someone on the other team and you hold your breath watching as the two try to steal the puck from the other.

Just when it looks like the other guy’s about to steal the puck, Seungcheol finds an opening, sending the puck into the unguarded goal, making the winning shot.

You and your brother shoot up in your seats, and you pull him into a hug as you both jump in excitement and happiness. Seungcheol gets affectionately tackled by his teammates as they swarm him, and you can hear them chanting their captain’s name as the announcer relays the winning team. You look over once you’ve calmed down a bit and somehow manage to make eye contact with him. You smile and you mouth “I’m so proud of you," hoping he’d be able to understand you.

It seems like he does because soon enough it looks like he mouths something along the lines of, “all for you, princess.”

The tournament’s over now and you’re waiting for your little brother to finish in the restroom before you two head back home. A part of you wishes you’d get to see Seungcheol before leaving but he’s probably busy with after game things and celebrating that you’ll just settle with talking to him some other time.

You’re about to text your brother to ask him where he’s at when you feel someone come up from behind you, spinning you around. You shriek, holding your phone close to your chest, about to curse out whoever it was when you hear the person laughing and you immediately soften, knowing exactly who it is.

He sets you back down, turning you to face him. You smile and before you can even open your mouth to congratulate him on winning his senior tournament, he cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen at the contact before they flutter shut, your own hands coming up to rest over his. His hands are freezing but you don’t mind, not when your face is burning up enough you’re sure you could warm up his hands in minutes. Your hands drift from his to rest over his shoulders, pulling him closer as you lean slightly back, with him following. He pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, causing you to chase after his lips, already missing the pillowy feeling of them on your own. He chuckles before dipping down to kiss you again when someone clears their throat.

You groan, already knowing who it is, dreading whatever comment he has to say. You look over your shoulder, only to see your little brother smiling. You definitely expected him to be pulling some disgusted face to make fun of you. Instead he was smiling, smiling so big you would think he just won a year’s supply of his favorite food.

“If you’re done making out with your boyfriend, do you wanna ask him if he wants to join us for dinner?”

Seungcheol's hand slips into your own, squeezing your gloved hand as you look up at him. His smile is so big and his cheeks are a pretty pink blush. “I really like the sound of that, what do you think princess?”

You like that a lot, you think, squeezing his hand as you drag him to follow you and your brother, laughing when you hear his teammates cheering for their captain, for finally getting his girl.

Maybe tutoring the captain wasn’t so bad after all.

538 notes · View notes

coryosmin · 4 months

Text

Feel Better - Coryo x GN!Reader

Coryo x GN!reader

warnings: sick coriolanus, reader taking care of coriolanus, no nsfw, ooc coriolanus probably, reader notices that coriolanus has an itty bitty cold and they just want to be there for him. oh and reader and coriolanus are best friends with romantic feelings for one another. this is definitely fluff.

AN: there’s just something about vulnerable Coriolanus Snow that just makes me swoon. All terms in here should lead to a gender neutral reader but if there’s any indicators I might’ve accidentally put otherwise, please let me know! Sometimes I make mistakes and miss them 😭😭

2,000 words

Coriolanus had woken up feeling groggy. His throat was parched, his nose was a bit stuffy, and his head hurt a little bit. He didn’t think too much of it. The apartment, being so old, was prone to giving Coriolanus allergies. He was probably experiencing post-nasal drip from the dust and mold. He sit up in bed, clearing his throat. With his head hurting, he forced himself to get out of bed, grab his clothes, and head to the shower. A hot shower should help clear things up, right?

Wrong.

It didn’t help. It gave a sense of relief while in the shower but as soon as he finished and got himself dressed, he was back to feeling all groggy. Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror, noticing the paleness in his face and the small circles under his eyes. He rolled his eyes to himself. Of course he just had to get sick. Coriolanus has a cold. It’s no surprise really. He should’ve seen it coming.

It was winter and many students at the Academy had been getting sick lately. Livia Cardew had been sneezing and coughing all day yesterday without even having the decency to cover her mouth and nose while doing so. Begrudgingly, Coriolanus walked out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom to put his socks and shoes on, grabbing his satchel as well.

Even if he wasn’t feeling well, he had to go to school. How could he land on top if he missed a day? It would be no good for him and his future plans to be the President.

Coriolanus walked out to the main room, the cabbage soup already boiling on the stove. Tigris was standing there, sipping a cup of tea as she waited for the soup to finish. She looked up at Coriolanus, seeing his pale complexion and the bags under his eyes. “Oh, Coryo,” Tigris said, placing her tea down. “You look ill.” She said, walking over to him. She felt his cheeks and forehead, pursing her lips. “No fever though.”

“I’m fine,” Coriolanus muttered, his voice certainly hoarse. It hurt a bit to talk.

“Are you sure?” Tigris asked, concerned for her cousin. She walked back into the kitchen, pouring some warm tea for Coriolanus. She handed him the mug. “Drink.”

Coriolanus grabbed the tea cup, taking a sip. It definitely helped to soothe his throat. But it was just regular black tea which ultimately, he knew, didn’t help sore throats at all. “I can rest when I get home from school,” Coriolanus replied, looking at Tigris. “I’ll be fine.” He gave a small smile to soothe Tigris’ worries.

“If you say so, Coryo.” Tigris replied, serving Coriolanus a bowl of cabbage soup.

Coriolanus began to eat the soup, though he didn’t have much of an appetite. He forced himself to eat it because something is better than nothing and if he were to survive the day, he needs as much energy as possible. He ate as much as he could stomach before stopping. He drank the rest of his tea before standing up. “I’ll see you later, Tigris.” He said, getting ready to head out the door.

“Take care of yourself, Coryo. If you start to feel worse, please come home and rest.” Tigris said, looking at her cousin.

And with a simple nod, Coriolanus left the apartment and began his walk to school in the cold weather. He sniffled as he walked to the Academy, the cold temperature making his nose run.

Coriolanus arrived at the Academy, seeking refuge in the warm building. The cold helped to at least clear his head from the fogginess. As Coriolanus walked through the hallway to get to his class, he felt someone take hold of his arm, interlocking it with theirs. He looked down to see you with a smile on your face.

“Good morning,” You greeted, looking at at Coriolanus.

“Morning,” Came the sound of his voice, hoarse and stuffy.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at Coriolanus, stopping in your tracks with him. Though you didn’t remove your arm from his. “Are you feeling okay?” You asked softly, looking up into Coriolanus’ blue eyes. You could see the bags under his eyes and the more pale complexion that was outside of his normal pale complexion.

Coriolanus simply nodded his head. “It’s just a stupid cold,” He said, reassuring his friend. “It’ll go away quickly.”

You hummed in response. “Just don’t overwork yourself, Coryo.”

The two of them walked to class together, sitting down at their desks.

As the day went on, Coryo’s symptoms got worse. Coriolanus tried his hardest to pay attention in his classes. The fogginess from this morning was coming back and he began to feel hot but cold at the same time. His throat was hurting more than it had been earlier. He sniffled every few minutes. He even began to develop a small cough! Which unlike Livia Cardew, he covered because he actually had the decency to try not to spread his germs. He was even going to the bathroom frequently to wash his hands, thank you very much.

And as he tried to get through the day, you noticed how bad he was starting to feel. By lunch time, Coriolanus had grabbed his food and sat down. But hardly had the appetite to eat it. And usually, Coriolanus would munch down his food immediately. You sighed to yourself as you looked at your friend. You cared about him a lot and didn’t like seeing him so ill. He used to get colds a lot when the two of you were kids and it was always you who would take care of him as you had the financial means to do so.

“Coryo,” came the soft tone of your voice as you put a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it’s time you go home and rest?”

Coriolanus shook his head no in stubbornness. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please don’t fret about me.” His voice was so hoarse and he sounded so nasally, you couldn’t help but pout in sympathy. “Just trying to get through the day.”

“Sleeping would help.” You said, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. Your other hand moved to his face, feeling his forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetheart.”

Coriolanus leaned into your touch, the coolness of your hand providing a relief that he didn’t realize he needed. “I don’t want to go home though.” He said softly, closing his eyes for a moment.

You gave a small smile. “Then let me bring you to mine.” You replied in the same tone. “I’ll take care of you.”

And with that, Coriolanus couldn’t deny you. He knew he couldn’t focus on anything else. His body was on fire while also being so cold. He felt miserable and wanted nothing more than to sleep. “Okay,” He agreed, opening his eyes to look at you. “You’re probably going to get sick though too.”

“And I’ll have you to take care of me.” You smiled, looking at Coriolanus.

So, the two of you left the Academy early. You had told Sejanus to let the professors know that you had taken Coriolanus home due to him not feeling well. You and Coriolanus arrived to your high end apartment after a bit of walking. Coriolanus looked as miserable as he felt. As you walked into the apartment, you were grateful that your father was working and your mom was out and about.

Coriolanus took his shoes off at the entrance, just as he usually does. You did as well. “Go lay down in my bed. You need to rest.” You said softly, looking at Coriolanus. He simply nodded and didn’t say anything else, walking to your bedroom. He took his uniform jacket off before crawling into your bed, covering himself with your lush blankets. Your bed was so soft and welcoming. Coriolanus couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as he closed his eyes and eventually, sleep consumed him.

Coriolanus awoke awhile later, still feeling relatively the same. Except when he awoke, you were sat right next to him with a cold cloth on his forehead. You smiled as you saw his blue eyes open. “Hey.” You said, smiling. “I had one of the maids make you some chicken noodle soup.” You spoke in a soft tone. “Would you like some?”

Coriolanus gave a small smile, unable to help himself. He nodded his head slightly, sitting up in the bed. The maid walked over, placing a tray in Coriolanus’ lap. He looked at the soup, remembering the times when you and him were kids and that time the both of you got sick. Your mother decided to take it upon herself to take care of both you and Coriolanus, ensuring that you both got the nutrients and medications necessary. Chicken noodle soup had become one of his favorite things because whenever he saw it, he thought of you.

“Thank you.” He whispered to you before eating the soup. He relished in the taste as he hadn’t had it in a long awhile. Coriolanus couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten sick like this. It must’ve been years ago. Really only four years but who’s counting? So yeah, Coriolanus might’ve actually been counting. But to be fair, it’s really good soup.

You simply smiled as you grabbed the cold cloth off of his forehead. “You’re welcome, Coryo.” You whispered back. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Coriolanus couldn’t help the burning in his cheeks. He was grateful that his cheeks were already flushed from the fever otherwise, it definitely would’ve been obvious that he was blushing. He cleared his throat and continued to eat the soup.

When he finished eating, you reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a glass of water and some pills for Coriolanus. “Here. A fever reducer and some anti congestion medication.” You said, smiling softly at Coriolanus. “It’ll definitely help relieve some symptoms.”

Coriolanus grabbed the glass of water and took the pills, swallowing them before drinking the water. He handed the glass back to you. The maid came back to grab the tray from Coriolanus’ lap. “Now lay down, Coryo. Get some more rest. I’ll let my mom know when she gets home that you’ll be spending the night.”

“Will she be okay with it?” Coriolanus asked.

You simply smiled and nodded your head. “Of course, sweetheart.” That nickname always made Coriolanus’ heart flutter. “You know she cares about you as much as she cares for me.”

And with that, Coriolanus smiled a small smile before laying back down. “Stay with me?” He asked, getting himself comfortable.

You nodded your head. “Always, Coryo.” You whispered to him, your e/c eyes looking into his blue orbs.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and holding it to his chest before closing his eyes. He was laying on his side, facing you. He was almost asleep when he heard, “I love you, Coryo. I hope you feel better soon.” Your tone had been so quiet and soft, as though you didn’t want to disturb him. And Coryo couldn’t help the small curl of his lips as he drifted off to sleep again.

So, maybe getting sick wasnt so bad. Especially because he had you to take care of him.

And a few days later when he felt much better and you had come down with a cold? He stayed with you at your house to help take care of you. Because Coriolanus loves you too.

#fanfic #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #academy corio #sickfic #pls I only wrote this because I wanted to write fluff #isn’t it so cute

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 13 days

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #atlantis #atlanteans #good parent bruce wayne #arthur curry #bruce wayne is bad at feelings

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Silence - Hangman

Words: 5.4k+ Type: Smut & Fluff Summary: After a fight, Jake invades your morning routine. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Mentions of fighting and it is a petty fight that escalated. Silent treatment. Some childish behaviors from both characters. SMUT {shower sex, piv sex, no protection}. from this request by @barbiegirlbaby

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

You love your boyfriend. Love him more than anything on this Earth. And that is why you can say that he can be the most infuriating person you’ve ever met.

You two fight like any other couple. It’s never too many fights but they do happen, just whenever you two disagree on something strongly or when something goes slightly wrong and neither of you wants to admit your fault in the matter. Sometimes the fights can be big but, most of the time, they’re quite small. The two of you are good to go on the next morning, usually.

The argument you had yesterday night... it's debatable. You two argued over something extremely small. The argument became so ridiculous that even Jake started laughing at one point. It was a small thing that escalated to more because the both of you hadn’t had a good day at work and came home tired. If you knew you were to finish a night in that way, you would’ve slept in the car.

It was followed by the silent treatment. Jake started it by walking off and, when he came back to ask you for something, you decided to be petty and leave him in the silence for at least some minutes. When going to sleep, the two of you faced opposite sides and drifted off to the world of dreams eventually.

Jake woke up this morning earlier than you, as he usually does to work out in the morning. He saw you asleep and facing him this time, and he simply stared at you for quite a while. He knows that everything will be sorted by the first hour of either of you being awake, yet, still, he stayed in bed for just a little longer.

When you woke up, ready to go to work for the last day of the week, you can’t exactly say you were in a bad mood. You had the same plans as Jake: you wanted to make up. But something came up. You started with your usual morning routine. Started off by turning on the coffee machine so you have coffee to have with breakfast and to take to work, sort out your clothes, and much more.

But all of your plans of following your morning routine perfectly are ruined when you walk to the bathroom.

You’re just now standing in the doorway, hearing the shower running at full strength, and, obviously, occupied. Sure, you could use the other shower in the guest’s room, but you still need to grab your essentials inside this same shower to do it.

Your plans to make up with Jake disappeared from your mind for these exact seconds. Why is he still in the shower? By this time, he should’ve been more than done with the post-workout shower and already in the living room or something.

You walk inside the bathroom, looking at yourself in the just small fog that is appearing at the corners of the mirror. He probably didn’t start showering that long ago since the room doesn’t even feel hot yet. You let a sigh out loud and begin to undress.

You have to take a shower. You don’t have much time before work, and today also wouldn’t be the first time you’d do it with Jake with you. So, no problem at all.

Your shirt (originally Jake’s) is thrown into the laundry basket and so is your underwear, and, with only two steps, you’re standing by the shower. Jake doesn’t even react when you pull the curtain open. Yet, what he does not expect is to hear you get in behind him and close it back up. Something in his chest flourishes at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’re going to talk to one another and be okay as always. But your silence continues.

Jake does consciously give you some space to stand in the shower too, even when he’s deep in his own mind, but when your eyes meet, that grin appears on his face. It’s this cocky grin that he does a lot, and you know it’s just to tease you.

“Good morning.” He tells you.

Your silence and look of no readable expression are enough to confirm Jake’s suspicions. You’re still mad.

You stand in front of him as he gives you space under the showerhead, and you turn your back to him, letting the hot water cascade down your body. Your silence continues as Jake stares at you as if you’ve grown 2 more heads, and he still lets his eyes look you up and down. You shut off the water and reach in for the product you need.

Jake hasn’t lost hope, in fact, this exact moment is fueling his mind with ideas. He leans in closer to you as you begin to scrub your arms with the soap, and you pause at the feeling of a pair of warm lips laying a kiss on your shoulder.

Your body likes to behave in ways you don’t want it to when it comes to your boyfriend, but, thankfully, you get back to washing yourself as before. Jake doesn’t stop when you go back to what you were doing. His kisses begin to move up your shoulder to the crook of your neck and eventually your neck. You try to ignore the chills running down your body. His kisses are simple against your skin. They're wet and loud in the silent shower. You can feel him stand mere inches behind you, and you can only swallow in dry and keep on going.

Jake then puts two and two together to understand that you’re trying to ignore him completely, not just his words. You’ve done this before, and it ended in a way he’s very proud to say was 5 minutes later. He can always try and see if he can make it faster.

He nips at the skin of your neck, and you almost flinch, so, he changes to your other side. The kisses are soft, and you’re constantly fighting your own body as your eyes want to close and force you to enjoy it. You can’t let them. Jake takes a step closer and lays a kiss on your head as well. You continue on with the soap, moving on to your chest and stomach, as well as ignoring him as best as you can.

“Still mad at me?” He whispers right into your ear, and he doesn’t get any sort of answer, “Because when I woke up to see you all cuddled up with me, I thought we were okay.”

You don’t let his words get to your head but you do almost gasp (again) when you feel his hands lay over your hips. You focus on keeping your breathing steady and seemingly unaffected and keep working the soap throughout your body. Jake pulls you back and closer to him, and you feel his chest against your back. You still don’t react, but you do put down the soap to just work the product with your hands.

Jake watches as you do it, his hands still by your hips and his head just beside yours. He watches as you spread the soap all throughout your naked body and continue to ignore his presence. One of his hands lifts and starts working the soap on your skin slowly. His hand is bigger than yours and harsher than yours, but it moves slowly and softly. No touch is harsh. His other hand eventually joins in, and you try to be petty to the point of washing over his hands, acting if they’re not there, but he doesn’t let you. He holds your hands as soon as they try to move over his. His arms still hold you, and he pulls you closer to him.

You don’t try to pull your hands away from his, but when he places a kiss on your cheek, you look at him. Jake is surprised to see you finally do it, but the look you're giving him is so unaffected at first, that it almost scares him. That is only until he notices that small little bit of defiance in your glance. After all, you’re playing as much as he is.

He lets go of your hands and, as you don’t move at first, his hands do and they continue to wash you. His palms and fingers spread the soap further, not hesitating into moving to your breasts. You don’t stop him. His skin works against yours as if with no problem. He does know every little inch of your skin as if it’s his, he has touched it, seen it, and tasted it many times before.

It’s when his hand begins to move over closer to your chest that you finally move. You grab the soap back to try to continue to wash the rest of your body, and Jake snatches it from your hand. You, now empty-handed, follow to see how the soap is taken into his hand and disappears behind you. You almost let yourself laugh when you feel the soap against your back. One of his hands lays the soap and the other one spreads it. You let him do it, and then, you stop feeling it.

You wait for only a few more seconds, acting as if you're still washing the already scrubbed skin, and finally turn around to look for your soap. You’re faced with Jake using your soap across his hairy chest, from both of his pecks to his abs, and you try to disconnect the part belonging to your petty brain from your horny brain for a little bit. He does the same thing he did to your back, one hand on the soap, and another one on his skin.

You watch him, trying to act as unbothered as possible, and wait to have your soap back. You look at his chest, forcing yourself to never get the urge to touch him or anything of the sort. When he’s done, even with his arms and shoulders - which you forced yourself not to stare at for too long -, you reach to get the soap back. But, unsurprisingly, Jake doesn’t let you take it.

“Do you want it?” He asks you as you just stare at the soap, “That comes with a price.”

You could not hold yourself for giving him a glare. He smiles at your annoyed expression and pretends to offer you the soap, but when you go to grab it, he pulls it away all over again. He leans closer to you and puts his hand (and the soap) behind his back. You look up at his face and wait for him to speak.

“You gotta ask.” He tells you, “First if you can have it, and, secondly… If I forgive you.”

Your glare was not held back yet again.

“Are you going to do it?” He asks you.

“Just give me the soap.”

He smiles down at you with his perfectly white straight teeth and leans his head closer to yours. He expects you, since you are mad, to pull back or away from him when he does it, but you do not move a muscle. Your noses are almost touching, and he still smiles down at your frowning face.

“Are you still mad over yesterday?” He asks you in a whisper.

The silence in the tiled bathroom almost makes his voice appear louder than it really is, and his words haunt your brain.

You continue to stare at him, from his smile to his eyes. You notice how his smile subsides a little and it’s substituted by his grin instead. His eyes continuously stare back into yours.

“Give me the soap.” You say very slowly while tilting your head a little higher.

His hand appears from behind his back, but you don’t take it just yet. You stare back up to see he hasn’t moved much, and his eyes appear softer now.

“Are you going to let me take it?” You ask, just in case.

“Are you going to stop ignoring me?”

“Are you going to apologize?”

Jake stays silent for just a little bit.

“Are you?” He asks in return.

You lean your head back just a bit to take a better look at his face and see how he just awaits your answer as much as you do his. He brings his face a little closer, and you let him. Your lips are almost touching and, under his breath, you hear him whisper.

“No deal, then.”

You bring your hand up and smack his pec, making the man laugh in your face and stand up straight once more. You turn around to look for an extra bar of soap, and Jake glues his body to yours right away. His arm is laid around your chest, and you try to ignore it as you keep looking.

He starts laying kisses on the side of your head now, then around your ear, your cheek, your temple, and your forehead. He takes his arm from around your chest and brings his hand with the soap back to your body. He washes your skin, moving down to your hips, ass, and thighs.

You let him do it. Why wouldn’t you? If you’re going to be late to work for sure at this rate, might as well go in knowing that you can make your boyfriend your servant every morning. Jake becomes so invested that he even turns you around to keep on going.

You watch him as he does everything with such a concentrated stare. Something inside of you made you forget what you were just doing seconds ago, noticing how soft and tender he’s being after being so terribly annoying.

“You missed a spot.” You say, eyeing your knee.

Jake can’t help but laugh at what you say, and you lift your leg to point at the so-identified ‘unwashed’ spot. Jake does as told. When the soaping is done, you watch as he throws the little bar over to its usual spot and begins to use his hands to work all through your body. He eventually comes back up and pulls you flush against him.

“Any more spots I missed?” He asks you.

That shouldn’t have made you laugh, or smile even, but it did. A small chuckle, one carried with an exhale, escapes your mouth, and Jake swears that he has never been prouder than in that exact moment. His slippery hands continue to hold you against him, and your hands move over to his forearms, planning on pushing him away.

You still don’t talk to him. God, you don’t even open your mouth to do so. Jake stares at you and swears that if he has to hold you in place and wait an hour for some sort of response, he will do it. Oh, and he would do it in a heartbeat.

You notice his need for your answer. Your boyfriend has always been determined to get what he wants, and that is why you open your mouth to speak. Words do not come out, though. Not a thing does. But you do lift your hand from his arm and turn on the water above you, surprisingly startling the pilot glued to you.

His hard work, all of the scrubbing and soaping around is washed with the water cascading the both of you, and you still haven’t said a word to him. So, even under the water, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel it. You look up at him and, when noticing that it’s easier said than done to stare into his eyes, you distract yourself by bringing water to his chest with your hand and letting the water wash away the soap.

It’s out of nowhere but, suddenly, Jake leans down and kisses you. It’s a peck, a simple kiss, just lips on top of lips for a few seconds.

The warm water is now hitting his shoulder and shielding you from the spray, and he begins to part his lips. You shouldn’t have kept on going with him. You should’ve stood your ground as the determined woman that you are. You have responsibilities for this morning, such as your work and the coffee machine in the kitchen. You know that. But Jake will always be hard to say ‘no’ to.

The kiss never becomes wild or desperate but does evolve into making out. One of your hands stays on his pec and the other one comes to hold the back of his head. Kissing made you forget your worries and your childish ways to fix real-life problems, and, deep down, you know you need to have him close to you all over again.

Jake is the one that breaks the kiss, and that leaves the two of you to stare at one another. He lifts a hand off your body and turns off the water, leaving the two of you in awful pure silence once more. His hand comes back to your body as you continue to stare at him, and Jake’s mind continues to try to remind him of his plan.

“I will still need an apology to continue on.” He whispers.

That breaks the bubble you were just in, but you don’t let him notice it.

“So do I.” You tell him too.

Jake squeezes you close to his body, and you swear that your torsos have never been this close, there is not an inch of skin that isn’t touching. He moves and takes a step closer to you, only to force you to take one step back due to the lack of space.

A clear gasp escapes your lips when your back hits the cold wall and, before you even have time to complain or send some sort of threatening glare at your boyfriend, he kisses you yet again. This time, it takes you way less time to kiss back.

The wall begins to warm up with your own temperature, and you feel one of Jake’s hands let go of you. Your fingers cling onto the wet strands of hair at the back of his head and even move further up to grab the longest ones. You only pull him to bring his mouth closer to yours - if that is even possible - and a groan leaves Jake’s lips, vibrating against your own.

He separates his lips from yours and begins to leave down a trail of kisses all the way over to your neck. It’s the kisses on your neck that almost make you melt and become one with the surface behind you. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the sensation of his tongue. All of it just to leave a trail of so desperately good kisses on your skin.

Jake’s vacant hand comes back to you, smoothing over your skin in the meantime. He palms at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that he can get a hold of. This was his plan to make you speak your sorrows and forgiveness, but he swears that it’s beginning to backfire.

He brings his lips back to yours, and you let out a small moan against his lips. Jake swears that sound alone is sacred, something carved from the world’s best, and it all reaches his ears simply because he is making you feel good while not doing much at all. He would be stupid to not consider himself lucky to have you.

The sounds of making out fill the empty bathroom, they appear louder and that only motivates the two of you to subconsciously deepen the kiss and grip each other more tightly. It doesn’t make sense how it works. It’s some sort of hypnosis that you give one another with just each other’s presence.

Before Jake can get lost in his plan even further, he pulls away from the kiss. He can feel the way your hand grips onto his hair to pull him back to it, but he doesn’t do it, he just stares at you. Your hand slides from the top of his head to the back yet again, and your touch almost makes him forget everything. He seriously needs to concentrate.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper innocently.

He leans in closer to you, acting as if he’s going to kiss you again, but he doesn’t do it.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” You whisper back to his mouth. Your mind has gone foggy after what just happened.

“Your apology.”

Your body goes rigid, snapped awake from your dreamland. You two are too close up to have this conversation, you can’t even look at his face right. Lack of patience grants you your next move. Your fingers cling onto his hair, and you push him away from your face by the strands. You look angry, angry at him.

“You really like to ruin things, don’t you?” You ask him, making his smirk reappear.

He doesn’t answer, he just grins proudly at himself.

You pull at his hair, and he inhales sharply at that. Your hold on his hair relaxes once he's distant enough, but he brings his face closer to yours again, unaffected by your actions. He looks at your angry face and pecks your lips just one time. The two of you can’t stay mad even if your life depended on it, so, Jake likes to abuse that theory.

“I’m not saying it until you agree to say it too.” You tell him before receiving another kiss on your lips.

Jake’s hand on your body begins to work the path it was making during your long kiss, and it squeezes and explores your flesh while the two of you stay silent.

“Say it.” He whispers against your lips.

His hand moves downwards and grabs onto your thigh. He grabs it and holds it to his hip. You let him do it, already feeling the flame awake at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Say it.” He repeats. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Some sort of warm shiver works through you, and you bring your mouth closer to his. He pulls back, giving you the same space as before. He presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth and brings his mouth to hover back over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you anymore.

“Say it with me, then.” You whisper back at him, trying not to smile at him. “We can say it at the same time, and it all will be done.”

Jake analyzes your face for a while, and nothing suspicious is noticed. You want to laugh at your plan or smile at the very least but you can’t. You need to focus. You work your fingers through his hair and remember how he was the one that was in your shower at this time of the morning. Exactly when he should’ve been out and about by then.

You need to remember the cause.

“On 3?” You ask him with a tiny smile.

Jake, still unaware of your plan, actually agrees to it, and you swore that it made your heart squeeze at it. Poor thing.

“One…” You whisper against his lips before pressing a kiss on his lips, so short yet so loving at the same time, “Two…” You do it again, yet this time Jake almost chases you, “Three…” There’s a beat of silence, “I’m so…”

You don’t finish your words, but Jake does.

“I’m sorry.”

By the time he gets to the last letter, he notices. He didn’t get or act mad at you, he chuckles against your mouth and pulls you in closer to him.

“Oh, you’re in trouble, now.” He says against your mouth, louder than a whisper.

You giggle when he attaches his mouth to yours, and he lets go of your body to grab onto your other thigh. It’s risky to do such a thing in the shower, but you seriously have much else to focus on.

You disconnect from the kiss to jump into his lap and wrap your legs around Jake, propping you up higher on the wall. You laugh your way up and then look down at your boyfriend. He still looks surprised that he was defeated after trying out his plan, but, right as you cradle his face close to you to kiss him, he forgets it.

His hands squeeze and hold you by the back of your thighs, your bodies are wet and glued to one another.

Midway through the kiss, he moves his hips against you, making you let out one of those heavenly sounds all over again. He’s hard against you, he has been for a while now. You deepen the kiss when he lifts one of his hands and begins to move his body to somewhat create a distance between you.

You can feel the tip of his cock between your folds in a space of a second, and you sigh into the kiss. You’re wet and have been ever since he was spreading the soap throughout your body. It’s with ease that he slides right in.

“Fuck.” He grunts when the two of you have to forcefully separate your kiss to breathe.

You move your hands to his shoulders and close your eyes while leaning your head on the wall. Jake is stretching you like he always does, and it feels way too good. Your walls squeeze his cock tightly, and your boyfriend breathes heavily at it.

You bring your lips back to his before your hips completely attach, and the two of you freely moan against each other’s mouths when it happens. Jake stays in place for just a second, giving you time to adjust to him.

Your entire body feels like it’s going to implode with how much you can feel and how much you missed every bit of this. When Jake begins to move his hips against yours, you cling to him and separate from the kiss to gasp for breath. He presses you against the wall and, sensing the low temperature of the tile, you gasp as another sort of shiver runs through you.

Jake begins to really move and his cock begins to easily slide back and forth inside of you. His hands on your thighs grip them forcefully. He watches as he slides in and out of you, his length collecting your slick and moving with such ease inside of you. Your walls grip him each time, and the sight of your naked wet body before him is just another reason for his body to burn under his skin.

The two of you try to kiss but it’s a lost effort. The pleasure is too high. It's some kind of turmoil in your stomach, tightening and twisting at every movement each of you moves. Every time you bring your moths together for a kiss, it's a plan lost. Your minds are going blank and blind to your objectives, completely lost in the pleasure.

You begin to move your hips as well, and Jake can only hold you tighter to him. Even the feeling of your wet torsos sliding on one another seems stimulating. Your boobs squished into his hairy chest, your stomach against his abs, his hands digging into your soft thighs. Everything feels too good.

“Jake” You moan his name right after you moved your own body to meet his thrusts. Your boyfriend groans into your skin, feeling your soaked warm walls squeeze his cock as he watches your face just above his. Your face frowned with pleasure while sweet sounds come out of your mouth time and time again.

“So good, baby. So good.” He whispers into the skin of your chest.

The sound of your skin slapping together is heard in the bathroom from time to time during the deeper thrusts. The bathroom is so silent and so echoey that you can hear everything. When you’re able to kiss, you can hear your lips connecting and disconnecting. You can also hear your breathing against one another’s mouths. You hear the wet noises of his cock going in and out of you. Everything.

Your hands move all throughout the skin that you can reach. You go from Jake’s hair to his neck, shoulders, and chest. Everything feels like him, everything feels exactly how you want it to feel. Your breasts move with each of Jake’s thrusts when you lean back on the wall, and your head falls back onto the tiles each time he brings his mouth to your skin.

The two of you aren’t sure why everything feels so good. It could be from not talking to one another. Going from not receiving any attention or touch to feeling all of it. Jake loves to feel your hands on him, and he loves to move his own around every inch of you. He swears that sometimes he holds you a little tighter because he can’t believe you’re even real, let alone his.

“Don’t stop, Jake, please, don’t sto-” You whisper breathlessly into his mouth, cutting yourself off with a moan.

He’s able to let go of one of your legs as it alone squeezes him closer to you, and he lets that same hand explore you. He holds your waist, your hips, your breasts… Even your face. Your kisses keep on going, sometimes being able to last a little longer than before as you're able to concentrate even when the pleasure keeps on building up.

You moan loudly against his mouth as soon as Jake's vacant hand finds your clit. His fingers move over the small nub time and time again. You move your body just as a mere reaction to his touch. There wouldn’t be a way that your own hands could ever compare to his, and you swear that he knows your body better than you do. He knows where and when to touch, where to kiss, where to squeeze, how to thrust, how to pinch, how to do everything.

Your orgasm approaches much sooner than you expect. The burning never really stops exploring your body and running through you from every artery and then every vein. Your body glues itself to Jake’s, wanting more of him attached to you. You whine into his kiss when you can’t exactly have that, and Jake just wraps his arm around you and squeezes you to him. He will always know what you need.

You detach from the kiss, letting out a moan of what seems more like a sob, and Jake keeps doing everything that you need. Even when his hand isn’t over your clit anymore, everything else is enough. His mouth on your neck, his hand digging on your thigh, and the way his thrusts just get more and more precise to exactly where you need him the most. It only takes him one more thrust, and you come absolutely undone around him.

The orgasm is so powerful, that your ears ring, and your vision goes white. Your body tenses up and relaxes in various ways and moves exactly like it did not too long ago. Your walls squeeze Jake’s cock and wet him to the point of the sounds becoming nastier and more addicting to listen to. And he cums right after you.

The two of you ride your highs together, bringing your lips to one another even if it's just to have that extra bit of skin touching. When done, you two kiss, and you can only lean onto Jake.

When you put your first foot down, Jake is still supporting most of your weight, yet you can still feel your leg shaking. That makes you chuckle, and Jake notices it just like you do, helping you stand when he lets go of your other leg.

You wrap your arms around his neck when both feet are on the ground, and his arms wrap around you securely. You look at one another for a few seconds, trying to be back to a normal heartbeat and breathing rhythm.

“I’m sorry.” You finally decide (and remember) to say it back to him.

Jake’s face washes in confusion.

“For what?”

You smile at him and shake your head as you begin to laugh. It takes the blonde a great bit of time to understand what you could possibly be apologizing for and, by the time he does it, you’re shamelessly giggling at him while leaning your face into his chest.

When he chuckles with you, you look back up at him and bring your hand to the back of his head to pull him into a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He tells you with a smile.

“I am.” You answer back with a smile of your own.

Before he could say anything, you turn back the water and let it practically hit Jake straight in the face. Your giggles fill the bathroom once more, and, all of a sudden, your laughter is broken with a gasp as Jake is able to reach in and turn the water to cold while you’re right in range.

Your laughter eventually comes back and it is then muffled with a kiss, making you melt onto him.

Hope you liked this!! Feedback is always appreciated <3

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koosbabygrl · 2 years

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hunger ↠ kth

↠ genre: smut, angst, yandere ↠ summary: taehyung’s kept you captive for months and he’ll do anything to taste you ↠ pairing: yandere!taehyung x reader ↠ tw: yandere, non-con, obsession, non-sexual slapping, kidnapping, oral sex (female receiving), manipulation, starvation, blackmail, shame, guilt, forced orgasm (sorta), pussy smacking, fingering, name-calling, degradation, humiliation

this is dark yandere. please do not read if these things trigger you. i do not condone or support these acts. my writing is purely fictional and does not truly represent any member.

please don’t copy, steal, plagiarize, re-post, or otherwise use without permission

Your stomach was rumbling as you lay on the bed. You hadn’t eaten anything all day and you were practically starving. It was times like this you hated Taehyung the most. You hated how he made you rely on him. How you hated him but he made you need him.

Taehyung had lured you here, to his house, months ago and had never let you leave. You’d taken a job as a cleaner, absolutely desperate for money after COVID had closed down your place of work. This particular listing paid extremely well, almost twice the average wage of the other listings and you’d have been a fool not to apply.

Things that seem too good to be true usually are, and you learned this quickly when you showed up at Taehyung’s, your newly purchased cleaning supplies in tow. You probably should’ve been suspicious when you got the job with no prior cleaning experience and a very brief interview. But you didn’t think too much of it. The meagre balance of your bank account didn’t exactly allow you to be choosy about your employment.

So now here you were, waiting for him in this room that he hadn’t let you out of for months. Honestly, it wasn’t like him to leave you in here all day without food. He’d usually come in a few times a day, with meals, snacks, or other treats like books or games to keep you occupied while you were in here with nothing to do. He liked to talk to you, have conversations about his day. He’d attempt to touch you, but you had never let anything get past awkward cuddles, and you didn’t think you ever would.

The fact that he’d just completely ghosted you had you a little worried. What if he had abandoned you? Left you in this room to rot? It wasn’t as though you could do anything about it. You’d starve to death alone, without anybody you loved knowing where you were.

As your thoughts began to spin to darker and darker places, you heard footsteps approaching your door from the outside. Relief flooded you as you heard the door unlock and saw Taehyung’s tall figure step through. The undeniably handsome man had made it clear on multiple occasions that you were to stay away from the door when he was entering and the consequences for not doing so would be severe.

“Hey,” you said, sitting up straighter on the bed. You saw that he wasn’t carrying anything in his hands, which was odd. Surely he should have brought you something to eat now. Had he simply forgotten?

“Hi baby, how’re you holding up?” Taehyung asked, sweetly. Something was off about his tone, you knew him well enough by now to sense it right away. He was up to something and you didn’t like it.

“I’m alright,” you replied, carefully. Navigating Taehyung’s moods was another thing you’d had to learn to do. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday though. I’m pretty hungry,” You pouted, hoping to elicit some sympathy from your captor.

He smiled and you didn’t like it, “Yeah I bet.”

Taehyung sat down beside you and placed one of his large hands on your inner thigh. You were mostly used to things like this now. Taehyung liked to be affectionate and it always made you uncomfortable, but you’d been conditioned to hide your displeasure. Angering him never ended well.

Taehyung had never forced himself on you, not in that way, at least, and you hoped that if you allowed him these little things, putting his hand on your thigh, stroking your hair, cuddling you as you both went to sleep, that he never would. Maybe it was naive to believe that you could keep him satisfied like this but what other choice did you have?

“Baby, I’m hungry too,” he said to you.

“Well, okay...so we should eat? Did you order something?” You asked him, somewhat confused.

“No, I’m not hungry for food,” he said, devilishly. “I’m hungry for this.”

“Huh?”

Taehyung moved his hand up your inner thigh, up your dress, brushing your skin with his delicate fingers, all the way up until he got to your clothed cunt.

“This. I want - I need to taste you.”

His words made your blood run cold. You tried to push his hand off of your centre but he was much too strong for you, and all you succeeded in was irritating him. He grabbed you by the back of the neck with his other hand and whispered menacingly, “Don’t. Fight. Me.”

Your eyes filled with tears and you shook your head and squeezed your legs together as best you could, “No, please. Please, I don’t want, I can’t…” you trailed off, sobs replacing your desperate pleas. It had been so many months of living in fear of this and as much as you had tried to prepare yourself for the inevitability of it, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to.

“Baby...I just want to eat your pussy, okay? That’s all,” Taehyung said, soothingly, trying to calm you down, “I promise, you’ll like it. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You kept on shaking your head no, barely able to speak at this point. Everything he was saying was just making it worse, you thought you were going to have a panic attack. You couldn’t do this. The thought of it disgusted you and it only made you sob harder.

Suddenly, Taehyung got up off the bed and stood in front of you. His looming figure was as intimidating as he meant it to be and you shriveled into yourself even more than you already were.

“I’m not that bad, am I?” Taehyung asked, gruffly, looking down at you. You couldn’t believe he’d ask you such an insane question. He was holding you captive, for fuck’s sake.

“You’re worse,” you spat back, venomously.

You paid for your second of bravery. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and smacked you hard across the face. It was strong enough to knock you over on the bed. When you tried to get up, he smacked your other chee. He then turned around and began walking to the door.

“Taehyung, wait, please! I’m sorry,” you called out, desperately. “Please...I need food. Is there any food?” You hated that you had to ask him, and that you had to apologize to him even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. But you were so damn hungry you couldn’t help it. “Please.”

“You’ll eat once I have,” Taehyung said, turning around to face you. The anger of a few seconds ago had dissipated and was now replaced with a diabolical smile. “It’s up to you.” And with that he left, leaving you hungry and alone.

***

The next few days passed by agonizingly slow. Taehyung visited you once each day, to bring you a single slice of bread each time and to ask you if you’d reconsidered his offer. You’d said you hadn’t, pathetically attempting to keep some semblance of dignity, even though you both knew you’d eventually cave. You had to.

And you did. Four days later, with only water and barely any food in your system, you cracked. You were tired, and delirious, and all you could think of was how you needed sustenance and that you were prepared to do anything to get it.

Taehyung, once again, showed up to your room with that damn slice of white bread and you broke. You got down on your knees in front of him and began to cry.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. Please, do whatever you want with me. Just...please feed me. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at him, expecting a smile but all you saw was a look of mock confusion on his face.

“Do what I want to you?” He asked, his brow furrowed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just meant...like...you can um, do stuff to me,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do what?” He pressed. The sadistic bastard was having fun with this.

Swallowing the scrap of pride you had left, you answered him, “You can eat me out.”

Silence hung heavily in the air for a second, and you wondered how much more of this you were going to have to take.

“Oh. Is that something you want?” Taehyung asked, still playing dumb.

“I...yes?” You said, carefully.

“Are you sure? I wanna make sure you want it. That you’re consenting. I’m not some rapist or something. I’d never force you to do anything. Tell me you want it.”

His words were like another slap in the face. It was one thing for him to force you to allow him to do this, it was quite another for him to force you to pretend that you wanted him to do this. It was cruel and it was humiliating, the ultimate power play. To force your consent and pretend that he hadn’t. There was a small part of you still that wanted to fight, to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, but the thought of another day without a proper meal was too much to bear.

“Yes. I want it,” you said, thoroughly defeated, and both of you knew it.

“You want what?” Taehyung prompted, his eyebrows raised.

“I want you to eat my pussy, please.”

“How bad?”

He wasn’t going to let this go easily and you hated him for it, “So badly, Tae. I need it.”

Taehyung smirked, “Of course, baby. Get on the bed.”

You got up on your shaky legs, weak from days of near starvation, making your way over to the bed and laying down on your back. You reached up the skirt of your dress and took off your panties, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible, putting your knees up and spreading your legs for him.

Taehyung got on the bed and knelt between your legs, getting to look at your pussy up close for the first time. He didn’t bother to ease you into this, like you thought he might. He didn’t kiss you up your inner thigh before making his way to your core. No, Taehyung dove right in, giving a long lick to your slit.

The feeling made you recoil, but you said nothing, you didn’t even make a sound. You were going to bear this, as awful as it was.

Taehyung then kissed your clit, tenderly, like one would do to a lover, before he wrapped his arms around your thighs, truly locking you in place. He began licking and sucking on your nub, his skilled lips and tongue working together. He wanted you to enjoy this. Nothing would make him happier than getting to taste you whilst humiliating you in the process.

You hated this. Him, yourself, everything. You hated his mouth between your legs, but you especially hated the tiny jolts of pleasure that indicated how your body was betraying you. You tried to resist against the way you could feel yourself responding to him. You could feel yourself becoming wet as he kept on working. He slid his tongue down to dip into your cunt while thumbing your clit and to your shame, you felt yourself clench around him.

Taehyung snickered against your pussy. He raised his head up to make eye contact and you looked down at him, his mouth coated with a mixture of his own saliva as well as your arousal. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No,” you replied pathetically, and Taehyung gave your cunt a hard smack, making you let out a tiny shriek.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you little slut,” he said, although he sounded more amused than angry. He took two fingers and pushed them into your pussy, pumping them a few times. “My fingers are sliding in and out of your cunt so easily,” he continued. “You’re soaking wet.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the sounds of pleasure threatening to escape you. Seeing this, Taehyung curled his fingers, finding your sweet spot with such such ease that you might’ve thought he’d done this with you before. You let out a moan despite yourself and that of course encouraged Taehyung further. He latched his lips around your clit while his lithe fingers worked you from the inside.

There was no holding back now, you couldn’t stop the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. His hunger for you felt palpable. His lips and tongue were moving even faster now, getting sloppier, as though he really was a man starved. Your whines and whimpers were fueling him. Your hips were bucking in turn, you’d completely forgotten about how much you hated him. He used a forearm to hold you down so he could properly continue his assault on your pussy. The undeniable feeling of your orgasm was rushing up on you, and you didn’t think you could hold back now.

Taehyung must’ve realised how close you were because he stopped abruptly, moving his head up, although his two fingers were still lodged deep in you. He scissored them, making you squeak a little, before he said, “Are you going to cum on my tongue, you fucking whore?”

You nodded, and Taehyung attached himself to your clit again, growling against it. It didn’t take long for you to become undone. “Oh, god, yes, Tae,” you mewled, unable to help it. You let go, allowing your orgasm to wrack your body, cumming all over Taehyung’s mouth. He licked it all up, unable to get enough of you.

Your post-orgasm haze had you feeling more relaxed than you had in days, despite what you’d just gone through. You blinked sleepily at Taehyung. The thought of eating something and going to bed was a pleasant one.

“Tae, can I have something to eat now?”

Taehyung looked at you malevolently as he began to unbutton his pants. “Of course baby, I think you’ve finally earned a good meal.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts x reader #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts au #taehyung au #bts imagines

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baddiecarl · 9 months

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Streamer! Carl Grimes x Streamer! reader

Like Chandler Riggs, Carl Grimes in a normal world would also totally be a streamer. Here’s a peek into what it might be like to be his streamer crush! (Also I’m pushing a slight resident evil agenda in this, I grew up watching my dad and brother play them and waited with bated breath to actually be able to play them myself! It’s my favorite video game series of all time if you can’t tell lol)

For maximum enjoyment, please watch the clip I put right under this because I referenced it in this story!

“Do I know who (your screen name) is?” Carl says, reading his chat. “No, I’ve never heard of them, gimme a second.” He picks his phone up off his desk and types the name into google, coming up with endless pictures of you playing video games, doing cooking and baking streams, making art, reacting to the memes people made for you, all the things your streams are widely loved for. Realizing he was quiet for longer than he probably should’ve been, he speaks up. “Oh yeah I’ve seen her before, she does awesome resident evil speedruns! I didn’t recognize the name at first, but yeah, I know who she is!”

“Omg he’s blushing!”

“Is bro blushing rn?”

“Looks like no one’s immune to the charms of (y/s/n) lmfao”

The teasing comments poured in while Carl did his best to play it cool and laugh them off, “yeah she’s pretty cute,” he admits through a soft smile as he focuses on the game he was streaming before he looked you up. Teasing chats trickled in every once in a while, but for the most part, the topic was changed completely and by the time the stream was over he had almost forgotten about the situation entirely.

Little did he know that the next day your viewers would also ask you if you knew Carl. Having been a streamer for quite some time you’ve seen a lot of clips of other streamers and you immediately recognized the name Carl. “Oh my god, is that the dude who sucks at fall guys?” You joked as you pulled up the clip of him failing epically at fall guys. “If you get eliminated at this part then you don’t deserve a single win,” he said, seconds before getting eliminated on the exact part he was referring to. “He’s fucking hilarious,” you remarked as you smiled while you watched the video. Well, that didn’t go unnoticed by any of your viewers either.

“She’s straight up giggling and kicking her feet lol”

“He called you cute on his stream yesterday”

Man, did your fans come in clutch or what? Returning to your game, you saved that bit of information for later, knowing that it probably got clipped and posted by now. After you finished up your game and ended the stream you finally got to look up the clip. You couldn’t help but laugh while you watched him read the comments and grow more and more red with each one that came in. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute.” THERE IT IS! HE ACTUALLY SAID IT!! This was all you needed to want to reach out.

A couple of days later, Carl was streaming again as usual when he felt his phone vibrate. A DM from…(y/s/n)?? Holy shit, okay, play it cool. He tried to hide his shock and excitement as he opened the message but still, a goofy smile crept onto his face while he read it.

“Hey, Carl! It’s come to my attention that we have quite a bit of an overlapping fanbase so I thought it’d be a great idea to play a game together sometime! Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to play fall guys ;)”

By the time he was done reading your message, the grin had broken out into a full-blown smile and he hid his nervous and excited laughing behind his hand. To no avail, his viewers saw this immediately and began teasing him, asking if (y/s/n) was making him blush again. “No guys, that’s not it, don’t worry about it,” he said, still trying to hide his bashfulness. Yet, again clocked by his fans, they knew he was lying. But they weren't the only ones who knew he wasn't telling the truth, because you had joined the stream just before you sent your message. You wanted to see him blush just by the sheer mention of you one more time, so you arranged to send it while he was streaming. You were overjoyed to see him pick up his phone, and judging by his reaction you knew he had to have read it.

He’s quiet for a minute while he types on his phone and you watch the text bubble pop up on your phone.

“I’ve noticed the same thing haha! I think that’d be awesome, but for the record, we will be playing fall guys so I can prove I’m not ‘the guy who sucks at fall guys’”

You grinned at his message, not failing to see the humor in the fact that he did the exact thing you did, looking up the clip from your stream where the chat had brought him up. You respond to his message simply and sweetly.

“Fair enough! I get to pick the game we play next time we do it then!”

“Sounds like a deal!” Carl replies, his heart skipping a beat at the implication of you wanting to do a stream with him more than once. Carl’s voice coming from your computer removes your attention from your phone. “Alright sorry about the pause there guys, I had a very important message to respond to,” he says, refocusing on his game all while he's still being teased for his very obvious change in behavior since his phone buzzed. Giggling at him regarding your message as very important, you sat back and watched him play his game, cracking up at the jokes he made. After he wraps up his stream, you’re left sitting at your computer, alone with your thoughts and they’re all about Carl.

About three minutes into zoning out, you're startled by the buzzing of your phone. You unlock your phone to see another DM from Carl.

“Do you think I could have your discord or maybe your phone number if you don't have that? I just thought it might be easier to communicate that way if we’re going to be doing streams together.” How does his nervous dorky voice translate so well through text? It’s almost like you could hear him stammering over asking for your phone number. Doing your best to reassure him, you reply: “I do have discord! But you can have my number too! It’s ***-***-****!”

“Thanks (y/n), I’m really excited about collabing with you! I was kinda shocked to see that you messaged me, even though I’m pretty sure this was orchestrated by our followers lol”

What can you say? Your followers really do come in clutch!

Me again! I hope you guys like this while you wait on the next part of Carl Grimes x Dhampir! reader! Also I hope you enjoyed that clip of Chandler sucking at fall guys, I really wanted to include that in this fic lol

#carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #Streamer! Carl Grimes x Streamer! reader #my work

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moochalove · 4 months

Text

Last Nights Mistakes and New Beginnings (Part 4-5)(Final)

(yandere!kazuha x pregnant!reader x scaramouche)

Did you know they call me the yappinator? Anyways i’ve been meaning to finish it but i’ve been busy w school but now i have the time so i will be yapping away more (posting a little more)🗣️ Get cozy bcs this is long asf!

Reader is bi-icon! (+ trauma) If imma be fr, the beginning is a little off bcs i wrote it weeks ago (im lazy and i will not fix it🥶) ANYWAYS ILL STOP YAPPING! TY FOR READING 🤭 (if u do😡)

word count: Pretty fucking long ❤️

proofread: HELL NO! 😋 fill in the gaps/mistakes for me pls🫶

TW: Stockholm syndrome

Arriving at the mall you think about making a break for it but these heels prevent you from doing so. With enough for the heel would surely snap though… Noted. Reaching for the door handle you’re stopped and pulled into a kiss. It’s a little uncomfortable but you play it off with a smile, “Don’t worry Kazu, I’m not gonna run off~” “I know darling, but this is the start of our new life so allow me to take the lead. Don’t worry your pretty mind about anything.” With that, he places one last peck onto your face. Once again, he is opening the door for you and you guiding you to the some shops. Immediately you notice his firm grip on your waist, and it’s uncomfortable. He said you would be buying clothes but you now realize he meant he was picking clothes FOR you. You’re in the dressing room and he has you trying on all these cute coquette clothing. It feels a little uncomfortable but you try to get used to the feeling of the outfits. Some are loose, and some are tighter. In your mind, you already knew which ones you liked based on the texture, design, etc..

Whenever you came out to show off an outfit you felt like a real couple. Showing off your outfit and making comments, no matter what you wore he seemed to agree it looked good on you, even if you didn’t think so. Something feels wrong about this but you can’t help but smile when he looks at you so adoringly.

You guys go to about three more shops, all of them having a different theme. By the time you were done, it was mid-afternoon. Both of your feet were killing you… not to mention you were hungry… You both agree to stop and get something to eat.

You arrive at a very familiar restaurant… Weren’t you just here? When was that though? If it was important surely you’d remember!

•

Scaramouche was frantic, to say the least. You weren’t answering his messages… Has something happened? He needs to get to you asap, but how? What if you’ve been removed from your home? If it came to it he could ask his mother to track you down, since she had that kind of power.

Knocking on the door he’s anxious, and hoping he would be met with a bright smile and worried hushing telling him that you were okay. After about a minute he knocks on your room window… No reply. Should he wait around? No, that’ll take too long. After some contemplation, he decides to reach out to his mom.

They have a long talk before she eventually caves. It feels like it’s been forever since she’s seen her child and when he comes back he’s on an adventure trying to get his girlfriend back. She didn’t think situations like that existed but he’s shown her the possibilities are endless. The way he talked about you so dearly gave her the impression you were a thing. Since she’s such a good and caring mother, it’s the least she can do for her future daughter!

Maybe he should’ve emphasized that you were just friends even though he wished for more

From what some super normal and not shady people told him, you were last seen at that restaurant you both had visited yesterday. Why were you there? That didn’t matter right now! Furrowing his eyebrows he sat there and thought long and hard. How was he going to get to you? Kazuha would most likely be glued to your side so directly approaching was out of the question. Could he signal you to him from afar? No, that probably won’t work… Pounding his forehead slightly he couldn’t form a good plan.

“You seem troubled, Doll.” A sly finger guided itself through his short purple locks.

“What do you want, Miko? I’m busy and-“

“You know it’s nice to run away then come running back when you need help. Your mother was on edge for weeks. Spending whatever free time she had looking for her poor child. Always looking for you despite her own needs.”

“Did you come to ask me what’s wrong only to turn around and try to guilt trip me? You don’t change, do you?”

Without saying anything she placed a bag next to him and then made her way to the door. Peeking through the bad he looked back to her fleeting figure before shouting out, “Wait! What is this for? You really expect me to forgive you with this bag full of clothes?! Plus, this has girl stuff in it anyways-“ “Silly Kuni! This is to help you get your girl back!” “Excuse me?!” Miko sighed while shrugging, “And you say your moms are no help! C'mon, you have to think outside the box, silly!” Taking the bag back she pulled out the cutest dress you’ve ever seen along with tights and heels. “It’d be stupid to approach her directly. You have no idea what kind of mental state she’s in, she may not trust any other man or claim she’s fine with her captor.” Digging deeper into the bag she pulled out a long wig that happened to be the same shade as his own hair, “So you have to coax her out as someone willing to understand and help her out of the situation!” Before he knew it he was all dolled up, shifting uncomfortably in the dress and trying to adjust his posture and his footing, constantly brushing his much longer locks back while puckering and rolling his lips that had a gloss applied to them. Would this really work?

“Miko, I don’t think this is gonna work… I don’t make a very convincing girl….” he awkwardly fussed with his bangs before glancing over at her. Miko held her phone up and with a click and a flash the very image of… whatever this was… saved onto her phone and probably being backed up to her cloud. “Oh, you look just like your sister!” Placing her phone back in her bag she shooed him out of the car before, then rolled down the window offering a few words, courtesy of her never-ending-kindness! “Just be kind to her, her heart will surely realize who you are... Or don’t! Maybe she’ll see through all of this!” Scaramouche could only grit his teeth as she motioned her hand at him. “I’ll be waiting here so once she comes to her senses I won’t be far. Plus! Wouldn’t want you to try and be all hero-like only to trip and fall in those cuttteee heels of yours!”

•

Spoonful after spoonful you swallowed whatever food had been shoved into your face. Were you even hungry? Not that it matters. At this point, you’ve come to treat this as if it were a real date! Yet your heart doesn’t skip a beat when he cups your face. A couple of people do glance over at you both awkwardly but that smile of yours tells them you’re just a young couple in love. It goes on like this for a few more minutes before beautiful swaying locks catch your eye, it’s true you’ve been ignoring the faces of those who’ve been passing by, but this face is stunning. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet each other. Now something about all this feels familiar but you can’t quite pin it down just yet. Kazuha notices how your attention is drawn away from him and he immediately pulls your chin towards him, “Is something the matter my love? You seem distracted.” He bluntly states as his eyebrows furrow slightly in frustration. “A-ah, no, I just…” Perhaps you were scared or maybe still stunned by that girls beauty but you can’t seem to form a coherent thought. He shifts around in his seat a little, ever so slightly moving his chair to block your view of the girl. With a short ‘ahem’ you brush it off as just seeing someone you thought you recognized.

If you look past his intense gaze you can still kinda see her fussing with her long hair. A waiter shows her to her table that so happens to be next to yours. You bite your tongue to hide a giggle when you see her awkwardly try to walk in heels, maybe she’s not used to them? Once she sits down it’s obvious she’s not used to wearing such feminine clothes, the way she keeps lifting her feet off the ground and sliding them farther out, or how she pulls the hem of her dress down even though it’s past her knees. The way she covered her mouth and spoke in a quiet meek voice told you maybe she was shy. Kazuha glanced at you both, almost trying to understand the connection you guys had but signed in defeat, “I’m gonna use the restroom then pay for our food. Don’t go anywhere.” And with that, he was gone but surely it wouldn’t take him long to be back.

Scaramouche had to be quick about this. The least he could do is get you outside.

Trying to keep his ladylike demeanor he tried starting the conversation with something normal. Of course, this meant he would have to speak a little louder in order for you to hear in the louder environment. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t “practiced” his female voice.

“Isn’t the food here the best?”

Taken aback by how cute she sounded you cover your mouth slightly. “She even has a cute voice!”, you thought to yourself. Once again stunned you take a moment to respond.

“Y-yeah!” your response is a little fast-paced but she just smiles in response. “Haha, you seem a little nervous, what, too stunned by my looks?” Even though he was supposed to be portraying a meek, innocent girl, he couldn’t help but still be cocky. It’s as if you were on autopilot with the way your response was the same yeah…

Part of you felt like that’s something he would say. Who was he again?

“It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you agree? How about we get some fresh air?” The girl suggested so innocently that you’d completely “forgotten” what Kazuha told you NOT to do. As if you’d been under a spell you followed a girl you didn’t even know the name of out of the restaurant. Her name! You need her name! This can’t be the last time you see each other you need her contact info! You reach to where you would normally keep your phone only for your attention to be stolen away by her.

She handed you her phone that had a picture of a very certain cat. Your heart fastens as you start to recall some things, you couldn’t submit to someone who only half-loved you. No, you had to get home to your first baby. Tears threaten to spill as everything comes back faster than you can comprehend.

He didn’t love you, no, he never did. If he did he would’ve stayed the first night. He was just looking for something to sedate his own woes. You come to the realization that your delusions you made up to protect yourself were false. You haven’t been in love for years like your mind had told you, you don’t know what he really feels, you just filled in the blanks with lies your mind fed you. In reality, you’ve probably only really known each other for a couple of days, during those 4 months you spent pregnant and alone your brain spun a story as if you were real lovers. Hating yourself could come later but for now, you need to get a grip and get out of here. Suddenly you’re caught up to speed and all it feels like you’re gonna vomit, your clothes feel tighter and you can feel your own skin, every pore feels open and you hate every second of it. What feels like hours is only a matter of seconds.

A hand is gently wipes your tears away,

“It’s time to go, Y/n.”

“I cant.. I’m sacred. I-“

“Don’t be. I'm here now, and I’m not letting you go.” He looked so serious, although a little funny since he was still in his getup.

Reaching for your wrist he gently and slowly led you farther away from the establishment and closer to your getaway car.

Both of your steps got faster and faster. You didn’t want to look back, no, you shouldn’t.

A voice you’ve come to hate shouts out to you. Ears pound loudly and your heart skips several beats when you hear fastened footsteps approaching. A wave of pain crashes onto you when your lower back aches in pain. You stop even though you don’t want to and clutch your stomach in retaliation.

You have to move right now otherwise he’ll catch up. Scaramouche turns back around for you and effortlessly picks you up and carries you to the car. When he turned to place you in the car he’s sure Kazuha has seen his face. Crap… Not like it mattered right now. He rushes to the other side of the car but is pulled back by a hand that is placed on his back, it’s cold and uncomfortable. Almost as if it triggered something in him he shouts and pushes him back into the ground.

Once Scaramouche is in the car Miko doesn’t hesitate to slam on the gas pedal and get you both somewhere safe.

Final Part:

When you wake up you’re in a very comfy bed. Moving your legs a little you wince uncontrollably. Memories come flooding back and your eyes dart to where Scaramouche is sitting. A smile makes itself known on your face and you reach out to him. He melts into your touch but avoids looking at you. You know you messed up big time by not running away from Kazuha like you should have… But you were in a deranged state! Surely he won’t blame you completely. Breaking the silence you ask him what’s wrong.

“I know we kinda just met but I hope you know I love you…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. “I always have… It’s a shame you don’t remember me. If you did then I guess you could technically say we didn't just meet.”

Huh? You two knew each other? Maybe he’s got the wrong person. Innocently you ask, “Have we met somewhere before? I’m sorry but I don’t seem to ever recall-“ “Just take a good look at me and try to recall. We used to be playmates when we were little. Your parents were busy like mine so they would drop us off at that one daycare.” Your eyes squint as you take a good look at him, “And we went to school together for a little while- I tried stealing your pen-“ Eyes widening you can’t help but burst out laughing.

Now you remember him!

“It’s you! I- How could I forget? Oh my gosh, it seems work has made me forget my younger days!” Covering your mouth to hide a smile you can’t help but laugh a little louder. His face seems upset but eventually melts into a smiling one along with you. For a couple of moments you both laugh and exchange playful banter. Everything in the world is right at that moment.

But once again, your mistakes will catch up with you.

After the laughing dies down he squeezes your hand and places a handle on your stomach. This causes you to shift uncomfortably but you try to play it off as a cramp.

“When the Doctor came to relay your status he told me one bit of information that… you probably didn’t want me to know.”

Oh shit. Oh shit- Your heart fastens and you try to muster out a response but it hitches in your throat. “I-I canexplain p-please let me-“You fumble your words and tears pool up in your eyes.

With an affirmative squeeze to your hand he smiles softly, “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not- I messed up and now-“ You covered face with your hand, attempting to hide yourself away from him.

“And now- we can work this out, together. I promise I will do my best to be a good parent. If you’d just give me a chance- A chance to take care of you and your child. I would do anything to be with you once and for all. Please, Y/n, don’t leave me again.” His hand came up to yours pressed against your face, and slowly removed it from you.

A part of you feels raw, and exposed, yet, this time it’s different. Part of your brain tells you to run from his affection but the other part feels so defeated that you just want to cry into his chest and beg him to stay with you. Lucky for you he was willing to stay with you. Even if you were going to have your kidnapper's baby. Leaning into him you cried out all your sorrows that had been bottled up for the past couple of months. All he could do was rub your back and listen to you cry your heart out.

It felt good to finally tell someone how you truly felt. How much has been troubling you? Although you’re sure if you were to tell this to a professional you’d been locked up….

After you’re done crying you wipe your tears and take a deep breath. Your chest and shoulders feel lighter. The whiplash of everything could hit you later, you couldn’t care less right now. All you wanted to do was eat, stretch, and take a nap.

Scaramouche looked at you dead in the eye and you feared the worst. Was he joking? Did he actually hate you and never want to see you again? Did-

“Goddamit- I dropped my wig…”

You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing. “That’s a shame! You didn’t look half bad in it~” you joked. “Oh please- You were head over heels for me and you know it!” “Ah, you got me there! Who knew you’d make such a fine girl! If only you could say the same about you know-Ow!” he punched your shoulder gently, but considering your current state it hurt more than he intended. “I’m sorry, Y/n- I-“ He checked the area to see if it was bruised or anything but was immediately met with a flick to the forehead. “Ow-!” “Haha, got you!” “You little-“

Both of your bickering would soon die down as soon as his parents would enter the room. It was obvious how you both turned stiff as boards. Acting as if you weren’t pulling each other’s hair like you once had.

Ei placed some flowers on the bed stand and Miko would sit down on the bed with some sweets in hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Y/n.” Ei bowed politely, “I’m not sure if my son had mentioned us to you. If not it’s alright- But we are his parents.” Miko started feeding some cake with a fork as she nodded along. “I’m very happy to see you make my son happy. It used to worry me that my son would die alone-“she feigned a tear falling from her eye. “MOM.” Blush spread across Scaramouche’s face as he crossed his arms. “Ah, excuse me, that’s beside the point! What I mean to say is that you shouldn’t worry about the wedding founding- Your new moms will buy you everything you will need-“ “THATS NOT ANY BETTER!” He exclaimed even redder. She smiled so innocently all while still looking a little confused. Miko finally chimed in, “What she means to say is that she supports you both no matter what. Even if you don’t think she agrees with you,” she turned her head towards him, “she believes you both will make the right choice. We hope you both can treat this as a new beginning. As I like to say, carpe diem!” “You never say that.” Ei tilted her head with a soft smile. “Well, I do now!”

All four of you burst out laughing. You guys talk a little more before they leave for their business dinner. Once again you and Scara are alone.

“Are you really sure you’re okay with marrying a pregnant woman?” “Of course I’m fine with it, since it being you and all.” Rubbing the back of his head he laid his head down on the bed, “Are YOU sure you wanna get married right away? Just because my mom mistook us for dating already doesn’t mean we should skip that part… Plus, what if you don’t like who I am…” You pet his soft purple hair with a smile, “Well, as long as you promise not to be a complete asshole, then I suppose we’ll be just fine!” “You think I’m an asshole?” “Haha, anyways…. What kind of wedding cake should we have? I was thinking of a [favorite flavor] cake! Ooohh and we can look at the different types of venues! Ah, I guess after that we need to plan a baby shower!”

He’d completely tuned you out and just stared at you, lovingly. Your skin glowed perfectly from the artificial light, and that smile of yours was perfect. You no longer looked tired and stressed; instead, you looked happy and not so tired. He couldn’t blame his ex-friend for falling for you. Although he feels a little jealous that he’s seen parts of you that now belong to his eyes only now.

Fingers tap up and down on the bed as if he’s contemplating something. You take notice and tap his shoulder, you ask if he’s listening. Suddenly he gets up- His soft lips are placed against your slightly chapped ones. It’s warm. Your eyes widen in surprise as you slowly melt into the kiss.

Once he pulls away you’re both gasping for air. Out of embarrassment, he hides his face in your neck. He’s embarrassed- you are too. “A-a little warning would’ve been nice. I was talking yknow?” “Shut up before I kiss you again..” You knew he was too embarrassed to do it again so you teased, “Yeah, I think you’d like that-“ Instead of another passionate kiss he instead peppered kisses all over your face. “I hate you.” “I love you, Scara.”

•

The wedding went amazing since his parents had done most of the planning (of course you both directed them) And your baby shower went just as well! Initially, you were both worried a certain someone would catch wind of it- and you’re sure he did. Thankfully the place was heavily guarded (, courtesy of Miko) and was also in a secluded area, along with there being a very strict guest list. You both already knew the gender so the part just consisted of fun baby shower games and many gifts from your friends and families.

You had been getting intensive therapy for the rest of your pregnancy. Those couple of months left you with deeper wounds than you had thought. Of course, you still have trouble with going out on your own and you’ve completely dropped going out (since you’re a mother now ofc) When you do have to go out alone you wear your hair differently each time along with a mask and sunglasses. Whenever someone gets a little too close they happen to get stopped by someone. Your bad dreams usually consist of you trying to run away but your legs move slowly or trying to scream but nothing comes out, and other things you’d rather not discuss...

Your delivery went well and luckily you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Ei and Miko informed you that you had a week to name him. On the fifth day, you and Scara decided on [name], since you both liked the name and agreed on it. When both of the families came to see him you got the chance to meet Scara’s aunt and sister (who both happened to be named Makoto, although Scara called his sister Raiden since she was “scary”) The boy was blessed with your hair color (he has a red streak through it) but had his fathers eyes. At first, it scared you but with some affirming words from both sides of the family and your lover, you’ve grown to love them.

Some of your friends and family didn’t approve that Scara wasn’t the father, some even berating you and calling you names. The name-calling mostly came from Scara’s side of the family. Area

On your son's first birthday, he spoke his first words. “Mama!” You nearly cried tears of joy when he said that. Scaramouche frowned and pinched the boy's cheeks gently with a huff. Much to his surprise the boy spoke again, “Daddy!” Now both of you were crying tears of joy. You swaddled your boy in the softest blankets before you both cuddled him off to sleep. Both not believing you had been blessed with such a joy.

Once your son has gotten a little older he learned how to say the cat’s name, always gesturing his hands and babbling, “Meowmeow!” The now healthier cat would come to the boy and rub its head against your son accompanied by a purr.

Once he turned two years old you noticed how he started taking after his father, often mimicking him by making an angry face and huffing. All you could do was smile and kiss him while his father pouted behind you both. One time you had joked around with your young son by asking him, “What face does daddy make when he’s angry” and your son crossed his arms with a scowl on his face. You burst out laughing while your husband messed with his hair pretending to be upset.

You went back to work while Scara was a stay-at-home husband. On stressful days you would come home, sore and tired, but the moment your eyes laid on Scara’a resting figure along with your sons. Well, your heart simply melted into mush as you took about 30 pictures of them from all angles. You were convinced that all of the time you spent alone and suffering was worth it for this moment.

It felt like that person was a bad dream- but now, you’re wide awake and ready to face the future with your loving husband, and adorable son.

Gawdamn I don’t stop yapping🙏 If you read all of this ty pookie!! there will be a $10 mil block of gold under your pillow when you wake up 😍😋 I will be writing some hcs (maybe) and a scenario where u encounter kazuha w your kid soon!!! (i promise) Anyways i’m knocking tf out… BAI><!!

♡ taglist: @swivy123

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #fem!reader #genshin angst #kazuha x reader #pregnant!reader #scaramouche x fem!reader #angst to fluff #stockhom syndrome

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azureseacloud · 4 months

Text

Stage Lights

Ghost (Band)

Part 6

Swiss x Reader

Words: 2,110

Warnings: swearing

Well here it is, the final part!! I was trying to keep it around the same word count as the other parts but I kinda went way past that :)

I really hope you guys like it, I’m worried it gets a bit clunky at the start but I’ve rewritten that part like five times already (one of the reasons it took so long to post) and I don’t know if I’m just overthinking it so anywayyy

I’ll be working on a Christmas request next and Hidden Messages :)

Swiss was very much not over it.

It had been three days now, and he hadn’t said anything to you. He’d been avoiding you—not that you had been seeking him out. If he wasn’t going to talk, then you weren’t either.

Except that wasn’t up to you. Copia had pulled you aside yesterday, asking you to fix your issues with the multi ghoul before the next ritual. It was now half an hour before going on stage, and you were debating just how mad Copia would be if you didn’t.

Pacing around your room, that bubble of guilt rose up inside you as your thoughts turned back to Swiss. He hadn’t been his normal self, and you were worried about him. Even without Papa’s interference, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to go on stage without at least trying to get things back to normal with Swiss.

The unresolved tension was grating on you to the point that you couldn’t ignore it. Just like how you could no longer ignore the fact that you really fucking cared about Swiss.

But by Satan, he sure had a way of pissing you off.

Flipping on your helmet so you were ready for the show, you made your way out into the corridor and down towards Swiss’s dressing room.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked at the door, knowing full well that Swiss would have already sensed your presence. If he didn’t answer then you could at least tell Copia you tried.

He’s head over heels for you.

You pushed Aurora’s words out of your mind. You were only making things up with Swiss, not confessing anything. That was if he even opened—

The door swung open, revealing the multi ghoul, also fully dressed and ready for the ritual.

“Hey Swiss,” you greeted tentatively.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice friendly.

That was a good sign. He hadn’t slammed the door on you either—this was going a lot better than how you had imagined.

“Copia told me he doesn’t want us fighting during a ritual. And I’ve been worried about you Swiss,” you said the last part softly. As much as you wanted to be mad at him for the past three days, you found yourself missing him. Even his relentless teasing.

“Yeah, Copia said the same to me. I was just about to go see you.” Swiss braced one hand against the doorway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you after the ritual. What you and Dew did—I wasn’t expecting that.” He smiled sheepishly at the last part.

Relief surged through you at his words and you offered him a small smile back.

“I’m sorry too, for what we did, and for what I said after.”

Swiss shook his head. “It’s okay. I know it was Dew’s idea, he knew exactly what he was doing. I should’ve taken it out on him, not you.”

“Then you guys should probably sort your shit out too.”

“Already done.” Swiss smiled smugly. “If Aurora wasn’t there then he might have gotten more than just a black eye.”

You huffed a laugh. That explained the scratches on one of his forearms. Dew must have left those on him during their fight. You were almost disappointed you missed it.

“I take it Aurora broke you two up?” Though she was tiny compared to the other ghouls, that didn’t mean she couldn’t be intimidating when she needed to be.

Swiss nodded. “She practically dragged me off Dewdrop. Also helped clear some other things up as well.” He grimaced at that, pulling at his vest.

You tilted your head quizzically, wondering what had needed clearing up. He caught your look, sighing as an embarrassed smile crept across his face.

“I may have thought that you and Dewdrop...” he trailed off.

You frowned, before your mouth fell open.

“You thought Dew and I were—really Swiss?” Unholy shit he could not be serious right now.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “You two put on a pretty good performance. The little dickhead wouldn’t let go of you last night.”

“You’ve literally groped Dewdrop on stage,” you said, crossing your arms. “And I saw you kiss Phantom last month as well. To think I didn’t believe Dew when he said you would get jealous.”

Swiss sighed exasperatedly. “So he told me. You really thought all I wanted was the spotlight?” He mimed a hurt expression pressing a hand to his chest. How much had that fire ghoul told him?

“Yeah well apparently I’m the only one who didn’t realise you liked me,” you countered.

Swiss huffed, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You know, Dewdrop and Aurora also told me something very interesting earlier today,” he said cryptically. You shifted a foot as he stared you down.

Oh fuck.

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly, mentally cursing the traitorous ghoul and ghoulette. Of course Dew would. He’d been trying to get you to make up with Swiss since the ritual—or as he put it, “fuck and make up”. The short bastard had obviously thrown you under the bus after their little fight.

“When were you going to tell me you liked me?” Swiss asked smugly, folding his arms and taking a step forward that left the two of you almost touching.

“I don’t like you, actually. In fact, I fucking hate you,” you replied, but your voice had smoothed to a teasing lilt.

He made a disbelieving noise, and you glanced up defiantly at him. But your resolve was fading, and you knew that even your denial was not as strong as it usually was. You wanted him to know. Because you really did have feelings for Swiss. And a part of you had sorely missed his stupid smile and his teasing comments over the past few days.

He smiled and your eyes darted to his mouth as a wave of heat washed over your body. The two of you were still in the doorway—and here you were, thinking about kissing Swiss.

He slid his hand to the small of your back, heat flaring from the contact. You bit back a gasp, knowing he was very aware of how you were feeling right now, just as you could sense that he was very interested. You listened to his heartbeat as it raced, matching in time with yours.

“When I saw you on stage with Dewdrop,” Swiss murmured, his breath on your ear. “I wanted that to be me. I wanted to be the one that was holding you. I wanted to kiss you the way he did.”

Your breath caught and a pulse of desire hit you. Fuck it.

“Then do it,” you challenged, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. “Kiss me.”

Swiss stilled momentarily, as if taking a moment to register your words. Then his hand ran across the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his.

The kiss was hungry, the two of you pushing against each other, still fighting even now. One of your hands dipped to his vest, pushing him back into his room as you kicked the door shut with your boot. You kept going until he was against a wall as he pulled you closer by the hips.

You growled as your helmets knocked together uncomfortably, and without breaking the kiss you reached up and pushed his off, as he did the same to you.

Relinquishing your grip on his vest, you traced your hand up to his beautiful horns, running your fingers along them as Swiss gasped into your mouth.

He used his grip on your hips to spin you around until your lower back was pressed against the dressing table. He lifted you up, letting you sit atop it, moving to stand in between your legs.

You broke the kiss, taking in his wide pupils as he panted, lips parted in a way that set you on fire.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you whispered, watching him smile devilishly. He squeezed your thighs in his hands, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Is that so?” He whispered softly, a mischievous humour in his voice. “I thought you hated me?”

You huffed, dragging him back in for another kiss and locking your legs around his waist. The kiss was feverish, the two of you pressing as close as you could, as if you were trying to devour each other. His fingers stroked along your thighs as yours ran along his chest, fumbling with the buckles of his vest. You managed to get one off, moving on to the next one.

Swiss moved his mouth along your jaw, pressing kisses as he worked his way toward your throat. You tilted your head, giving him better access as he sucked and nipped at the skin.

“Fuck, Swiss.” You murmured blissfully, closing your eyes as a quiet purr built in your chest. Swiss smiled against your skin. He left a trail of kisses and bites along your neck, while you struggled to undo his buckles. Shivers were running down your spine at the mesmerising feeling of his lips on your skin.

“Having trouble?” He teased, looking down to where you had only just managed to undo his second buckle.

“No, I’m not,” you answered, flicking open the next one to prove your point. “It’s just harder when you’re distracting me.”

“Oh, like this?” He kissed along the other side of your neck, sucking hickeys and leaving bites. You tried to focus on your fingers and what they were doing but it was a losing battle. Since when was it this hard to undo a vest?

“Prick,” you mumbled, and you felt his chest shake with a silent laugh. His hands reached up to caress your own horns, sending shivers down your skin at the blissful feeling.

“Hey Swiss? We’re about to go on stage and Copia says—oh.” You look over Swiss’s shoulder as he pauses on your neck.

Phantom stands still in the doorway, helmet clutched in one hand and eyes wide as he takes in the two of you.

“Fuck off Phantom,” you say as you see the smirk growing on his face, Swiss laughing as he looks back at the quintessence ghoul.

Phantom points at his wrist. “You guys have three minutes to, uh, finish up whatever this is.” He shot you two a wink as he closed the door.

“He’s going to tell everyone isn’t he?”

Swiss laughed again, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “Of course he is. Which is good, because at least everyone will know you’re mine.”

You snorted, pulling his lips to yours in another bruising kiss. “I’m yours, huh?”

Swiss purred in response, kissing you back. You went to reach for his vest again but he stopped you.

“I don’t want to stop, but we should probably go,” he murmured against your lips. You sighed, eliciting a satisfied smirk from the multi ghoul.

He began to move away but you slipped a finger into one of the belt loops of his pants, pulling him back.

“There’s something I have to do first,” you whispered slyly. You moved your hand into his hair, tugging his head to the side as you pressed your teeth against the side of his neck. Swiss groaned, hands grabbing your thighs as you bit down.

Leaning back, you admired the indents of your teeth on his neck. You slid your hand to caress his cheek gently, Swiss’s eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“Payback’s a bitch,” you said, drawing a laugh out of the multi ghoul.

His hands were gliding up to your hips and then he was lifting you down from the counter.

“So, did you want to annoy Dewdrop tonight?” Swiss asked slyly, fixing up the buttons that you had managed to undo.

“I think it’s only fair that we wipe that smug attitude off. And you know how upset he gets when he screws up a solo.”

You grinned devilishly, already thinking of all the ways you could make Dew falter on stage. Being his best friend did have its perks. He should have thought of that before he went running to Swiss, even if it had gotten you the best make out session you’d had since you were summoned from the pit.

“Absolutely.” You kissed him again, handing him his helmet. “He’s about to have the worst ritual of his life.”

“Sounds like a perfect date,” Swiss said, slipping his hand into yours.

You smiled back. This was going to be a good night.

Well, not for Dew.

#ghost band #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #nameless ghouls x reader #dewdrop ghost #swiss ghost

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catslvrr · 6 months

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heaven sent — 00. prologue

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You were never the type to believe in superstitions.

But as you stared at the document you had open, completely blank (excluding your name) with the cursor blinking, as if mocking you, you started to seriously consider Minji’s suggestion.

(“Bro, you will not believe what happened to me today.”

“I’m not sure if I want to know,” you said, noisily slurping up your instant noodles.

“No, trust me, you do. So yesterday, I saw this post on Twitter that said if you write down a wish on a piece of paper three times, put it under your pillow, and then recite that wish at exactly 11:11, it’ll come true.”

You barely flinched as she slammed the table.

“I wished for a hundred bucks. And guess what?” She grinned smugly as she waved a bill in your face. “I found this lying on the floor before class.”

“So what?” You shrugged. “It’s just a lucky coincidence.”

“No, bro,” she whined. “It’s real. You should try it. Get yourself a girlfriend or something, you’re so grumpy all the time.”

“Even if it is true,” you glared at Minji as she reached over to eat some of your noodles. “Why would you wish for only a hundred bucks? You should’ve asked for a million dollars or something, dumbass.”

“I didn’t know it was real until today,” she puffed her cheeks, then proceeded to slam her head on the table. “I probably wasted my one wish.”

She looked up after a minute and pouted. “Can you please wish for it?”

“Find someone else to do it,” you waved your hand dismissively, making your way back to your room. “Enjoy the noodles, you scab. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Your loss!” She called out, mouth full of (your) noodles. “I’m the one a hundred bucks richer.”)

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, running your fingers through your hair.

I’m running on two hours of sleep, and I’m never gonna finish this essay anyway. What do I have to lose?

You ripped a piece of scrap from the DoorDash takeaway bag sitting on your desk. Uncapping a pen with your teeth, you thought about what to write.

What the hell do I wish for? My essay to magically write itself? Nah, that’d be a waste of a wish.

After a few minutes of pondering, you messily scribbled three lines: ‘I want to be happy. I want to be happy. I want to be happy.’

You glanced at your laptop. Huh, it’s 11pm. Perfect timing.

You slid the note under your pillow and flopped onto your bed, scrolling through TikTok to pass the time.

As soon as the clock hit 11:11, you sat up.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

You sighed, scratching your head before saying,

“I want to be happy.”

Your breath hitched in anticipation.

“...”

To no one’s surprise, absolutely nothing happened. You scoffed, falling back onto the bed, rubbing your face in frustration.

Of course nothing would happen. Why did I think it would work?

You shut your eyes, feeling exhaustion wash over you. Whatever happens to that essay is up to God now.

You lay still for a few minutes, eventually tossing and turning as you tried to sleep. But all you could think about was the stupid essay. You groaned as you sat up again, grabbing your laptop.

“Fuck uni.”

At least this is my last assignment before the break.

You ended up staying up all the way to five in the morning, downing an ungodly amount of energy drinks in a desperate attempt to finish off the essay.

You woke up to the sound of I Like to Move It from Madagascar blasting in your ear.

(Minji thought it would be funny to change your alarm ringtone to it, and you never bothered to change it back.)

You groaned, flipping over to check your phone to see no new notifications. You stared vacantly at your ceiling as you contemplated your life choices.

I got one hour of sleep. Why do 7am classes exist? Whoever came up with that idea should be tried for crimes against humanity.

Eyes half open, you shuffled your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth, passing Minji’s room on the way. Her door was left ajar and she was nowhere to be seen. I’ll never understand how she wakes up every morning to go on a run.

Just as you were about to enter the bathroom, you noticed a girl in your living room. She was focused on a bookshelf, a curious expression on her face.

Who the fuck is that?

You rubbed your eyes and squinted. She was still standing there, running her fingers along the spines of the books.

I must be seriously sleep-deprived if I’m hallucinating a very pretty girl. Yeah, no, not doing this today. It’s the last class of the semester anyway. That 7am class can shove a stick up its ass.

You briskly walked back to your room and face-planted on your bed, instantly knocking out.

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#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader

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meidnightrain · 6 months

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ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY - ei

❝ here you are now calling me up but i don’t know what to say. ❞

summary: even though you’ve been pushed away multiple times, you’re not backing down from getting the archon to open up to you

warnings: reader is gn, inazuma archon quest spoilers, raiden archon quest spoilers, slight hurt/comfort

notes: day 5 and a break from the angst finally! sorry this was supposed to be posted yesterday but something came up!

taglist (open): @staretes , @rynnlvrs , @sentifua , @i-probably-sleep-too-much , @reilly34 , @qqingque , @akutasoda , @mhiieee , @starryshinyskies , @rintosae , @kazemiya

“name.” not even a nickname, not even love, not even a greetings.

“almighty shogun.” not ei, not beloved, not even a hello back.

there’s a sort of heaviness in the air you breathed, you can smell the scent of petrichor though the sky was clear. but then again, the unorthodox would become reality when you were with the raiden shogun.

she’s different than when you last saw her centuries ago, more open and definitely not controlled by the husk of a puppet she hid her face behind. perhaps it was a good idea to have helped the traveler alongside miko. you huffed, shifting your feet as you locked eyes with the woman you once loved.

they were no longer cold and striking but instead hopeful and warm, a welcome change but a bit too late, centuries late. here she was calling you up, but you weren’t sure what to say. truth be told, you were still picking up the pieces of the left she made of you when she decided to end it all.

“you’ve been well,” ei tried to say with a smile though her comment came out as more of a question and her cheerful smile one of confusion.

“i suppose the traveler talked you out of staying your days in the plane of euthymia. i should’ve warned him not to get close to you, you were always good at manipulating those around you.” you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, not daring to look at your former lover.

“name…that’s not what…” she trailed off, her smile beginning to quiver at the cold look in your eyes.

“you know you had me in the palm of your hand, then why did you lock me out when i let you in. why are you even here, don’t beat around the bush. you never even bothered to visit me after you ended us,” you shook your head in disbelief, an exasperated expression on your face much to her dismay.

all the confidence she exuded had faltered, leaving behind her facade she put on in front of her people. how shocked the inazuman would be, to know that their almighty archon could be left speechless by just a few words. “i wanted to apologize. after makoto…i wasn’t thinking straight.”

“so you’re blaming this on makoto? are you serious?” you looked at her with a mixture of anger and sadness, crossing your arms.

ei waved her hands quickly, not wanting to fan the rising flames that had been mere sparks in your beating heart. “no that’s now that i meant! it’s just that, when i was in the plane of euthymia, all i thought about was you and how we ended. i regret it every day.”

you let out a small hum, nodding along with what she had to say. you weren’t sure if this was a worthy excuse to be sold by but then again, you did feel the same way. people like her always want back the love they pushed aside when they realise they didn’t have it anymore while people like you are gone forever when they said goodbye.

“let me remind you, this was what you wanted. you ended it.” you turned on your heels, walking away from her. despite being broken up for years, it seemed that both your hearts were still synchronised, beating like one even despite the fact she didn’t have one. and you felt her non-existent heart skip by just a few beats at your words.

is that what makes you stop in your tracks involuntarily? just because she broke your heart then doesn’t mean you had to return the favor, did you?

“you were all i wanted.” you sighed, your head hung low, your back facing her view of you. there are unspoken words, threatening to unravel from your tongue.

“but not like this.” you longed to say to her face, to hurt her like she hurt you but you couldn’t dare to. people like her always wanted back they love they gave away.

your feet moved on their own as you turned back to her, feeling what felt like hope blooming in your chest, hope that maybe this would work now. ei’s frown morphed into a warm smile though she tried to hide it, covering her mouth and looking away at you. you took her offered hand, intertwining your fingers, yours warm but hers cold. “so how do i know that you won’t make the same mistake twice?”

people like you want to believe her when she said that she changed. the more that you thought about it, the less you knew. all you knew was that she had driven you off the road and into the woods but now that you were in control of the wheel, you’d make sure that instead of crashing once more, you’d both make it through.

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#🕊️ - 1989 event #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #raiden shogun x reader #raiden shogun x you #ei x reader #ei x you #🗞️ - genshin impact fics #🪧 - event: 1989

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wikiangela · 3 months

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tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway.

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script.

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

#tease tidbit tuesday #death cast buddie au #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #angst #buddie angst #mcd #i don't know how yet but eddie will die in this one bc apparently ive been in the mood to break my own heart lmao #i wanted to say maybe i'd share smth happier tomorrow but i don't think i have any happy wips im actively working on rn???#there are happy wips in general but im not really in the mood/inspired for those rn #ran out of happy when i finished the natalia fic i guess lol #who even am i lmao what's with all the angst and sad im usually all about fluff 🤣#(gonna share some more of alive shannon tomorrow!)#btw if you haven't read the books and have questions hmu but also i'll try to make everything clear in the fic lol #but also SO recommend the books they're so good and so sad and I think about them like at least once a week (the prequel wrecked me)

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reinerispretty · 1 year

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best of luck. (satoru gojo x f!reader)

hiiii. i posted this on ao3 sometime last year, but i figured i’d bring it on over to tumblr, because all of the writing i have here is super old and i’m still proud of this one. hope you enjoy!

content: grumpy girl reader, shit eating grins, fluff

in which gojo satoru shows up unannounced, twice.

“You can’t bring them in here.”

It’s almost one p.m. on a sunny Tuesday, and you’re staring up at Gojo Satoru with all the malice you can muster. He’s staring back down at you (at least you think he is, you can’t really tell what goes on behind that blindfold), and his grin remains unwavering. You should’ve known—the word no and all of its synonyms don’t fit anywhere in Gojo’s vocabulary.

“I’m serious!” You say, hands on your hips as you stamp your foot down like a child. “I’m not letting kids in here.”

The trio peers from behind Gojo. You know one of them, Fushiguro Megumi, but the other two are strangers. You’ve heard enough gossip about what goes on at Jujutsu High to make the educated assumption that the other two are Kugisaki Nobara and the infamous Itadori Yuuji. All three have the unfortunate assignment of being under Gojo’s tutelage.

“Come on,” Gojo laughs, as if you’re playing with him. “I just wanted to introduce my prodigies to my favorite person in the world!”

You frown. “Nanami isn’t here.”

He smacks a hand against his chest, staggering. “You wound me.” In a swift movement, Gojo has his wingspan spread around his students, squishing them together. “They haven’t eaten lunch! You wouldn’t let poor, innocent children go hungry, would you?”

Your frown deepens. You don’t know what Gojo’s real motives are yet, but they must be rather stupid if he’s bringing three children to a bar on a school day. Never mind that it’s illegal for anyone under the age of twenty to be in such an establishment. Such pesky things like laws don’t stand in Gojo Satoru’s way.

You hear their stomachs grumble and at this point, you’re downright scowling. “I hate you,” You say defiantly, stepping to the side to let the group enter. “Quickly, now, before anyone sees you.”

Gojo passes you last, his winning smile stretching across his face. He leans down to give you a kiss and your hand pushes against his cheek, effectively shoving him away from you. “I hate you,” You repeat, locking the door and flipping the sign to CLOSED. He’s enough to deal with. You don’t need more customers on top of that.

They’d arrived at a perfect time. It’s typically slow in the early afternoon, which you know Gojo is aware of. He probably plotted this exactly, right down to the impeccably timed growling of their stomachs. With him, almost nothing is unintentional.

You duck behind the bar to grab a few menus, then join them at their table. They’ve chosen a large, circular booth. Gojo sits on the end, closest to where you stand. You pass the menus around, giving Gojo a whack on the head with his before setting it in his waiting hands.

You introduce yourself to the kids, since it’s likely they weren’t given any information as to why they were coming to a bar in broad daylight. “I graduated from Jujutsu High—“

“With me!” Gojo interjects, because it isn’t a story unless he’s a part of it. “Ten whole years ago, can you believe that? It feels like just yesterday we were walking the halls together.”

“Don’t go around revealing my age to people I don’t know!” You snip at him, ears flaring red-hot.

He quickly introduces his newest students as well as Megumi, who mumbles an, “I’ve already met her,” that Gojo ignores.

“See? Now we’re all thick as thieves.”

“Are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer too?” Yuuji asks, and you nod your confirmation. “Why do you work here?”

“How about you spend two more seconds thinking about it before asking stupid questions,” Nobara scoffs. “She works in a dive bar. You know who comes to dive bars?”

“Erm…” Yuuji rubs the back of his neck as he thinks. “People who like to drink?”

You smile as Nobara ridicules Yuuji once more, and you decide to put the kid out of his misery. “People come to bars for all sorts of reasons, but a pretty big one is to drown their sorrows. People drink because they want to forget, but while they’re in the process of forgetting, where do you think all of that negative energy goes?”

“Right here?” Yuuji guesses. You nod.

“Places like these are a hotbed for curses. Mostly lower-level ones, but they can develop into something really nasty if you don’t keep an eye on them.” You huff, realizing that you’d been tricked into being part of Gojo’s lesson for the day. “I own a few bars around Tokyo—I stop by each one every so often to keep things running smoothly.”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Beams Gojo, and the pride in his voice makes your cheeks flare. You clear your throat.

“Well? What can I get you guys?”

After taking their orders, you march back into the kitchen to start preparing the food. Normally, the only people who come into your establishments at times like this are real sad saps who want nothing more than the comfort of a bottle, so your chefs don’t come in until just before the rush starts. You usually never have to prepare food, but leave it to Gojo to ruin your perfectly crafted routine.

Your hands go through the motions of cooking as he (per usual) occupies your thoughts. You’re annoyed with him for dropping by unannounced, annoyed with him for bringing kids here when there are a million more important lessons he could be teaching them, and annoyed because your mood’s increased significantly, just because of his presence. Your day’s been off to a shit start, and despite your initial greeting, you can’t think of any of the bad stuff when he’s around. You don’t know how he does it, but Gojo Satoru always knows when you need to see him.

You appreciate that after over a decade of knowing each other, your harsh words don’t deter him. A therapist had told you once that they’re a defense mechanism, a way to keep people out so they don’t get the chance to hurt you. You hadn’t seen a problem with that, but she certainly did, based on the amount of scribbling done on her notepad.

But Gojo worms his way into places he shouldn’t be all the time, and you’re sure he enjoyed fitting himself into your life no matter how much you resisted. You’d met at the start of your first year—or was it a little before? You aren’t sure. You’d ask Gojo to clarify if he wouldn’t be so annoying about it. Were you reminiscing about me? You can see him asking, his grin so shit-eating that resisting the urge to knock his teeth out would be a Herculean feat.

Since then, he’d always been there, a task that you’d previously thought was difficult for others. He’d made it look easy, though, walking you to class, accompanying you on missions, sending you texts with elaborately designed emoticons. You pushed and Gojo pushed back even harder, demanding you make room for him in your life because he wasn’t leaving it anytime soon.

Some might say he wore you down, but really you started to enjoy him. He’s ridiculous and funny and irresponsible and a flirt, and it’s nice to have someone bring so much color into your life when you have difficulty making your own. He’s a lot , but you can’t say that whenever he’s around, you’re unhappy. Annoyed, sure, but never unhappy.

With the food started, you get their drinks in order. Thankfully, you sell beverages aside from alcohol, as pick-me-ups for the sober friends that get dragged inside. You place everything on a tray and walk back out into the main room. Gojo’s talking loudly, of course, and normally you’d chide him for his volume but the place is empty, anyway. The kids seem enthralled by the story, except Megumi, who’s probably heard it a million times.

“And right when they think they’re done for, because they’re surrounded and have completely drained themselves like the idiots they were—” You know this story. You’d lived it, actually.

In your third year at Jujutsu High, a few second years were incredibly eager to move up in rank. They’d sneaked into the principal’s office and stolen records on some of the most dangerous, un-exorcised curses in the area and stockpiled on cursed tools. Their thought process had been that if they were all together, it’d be easier to triumph over the curses, and their spots as Second Grade Jujutsu Sorcerers would be guaranteed.

People were always more likely to gossip around you if you kept to yourself, so you’d heard about it rather quickly when they set out to defeat those higher grade curses. You’d realized that if you took the time to tell someone, they’d be dead before any proper sorcerers could come to intervene. So you’d set off after them.

Now, you were nowhere near Gojo’s level of sorcery, but you’d been classified as a Second Grade during your first year. You’d been content with that. No point in pushing yourself harder and getting killed.

But you’d watched class numbers dwindle as Jujutsu Sorcerers met violent ends, and it didn’t sit right with you to do nothing. You’d called Gojo, frantic, but he’d been on a mission overseas and couldn’t answer. (Later, when he’d heard what you’d done, he’d vow never to miss any of your calls, for fear that he might miss seeing something like that again.)

As he’d said, the idiots had gotten themselves surrounded by higher grade curses. Their tools were broken. They were weak. One was already dead by the time you arrived.

You’d been angry at them, angry at yourself for being too late, and angry at this stupid profession for making kids want to put themselves at risk. You don’t really remember doing it, but you’d channeled all of that anger into cursed energy.

“The students likened it to a bomb,” Gojo finishes as he takes a sip of his soda. “She saved all of them and exorcised the curses, too. Was promoted to Grade One the very next day!”

Your face goes hot as he sings your praises, and the students are looking at you like you’re a marvel. You wave a hand, uncomfortable with all the attention. “It was a long time ago,” Is all you can think to say, before retreating into the kitchen.

That’s another thing about Gojo—he’ll never let you be. He’s always bragging about you. You don’t care for validation or admiration. You want to keep your head down and keep moving, but he won’t quit. He thinks you deserve it, since you’re “so powerful,” but you don’t view yourself that way.

Your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket, and you pull it out to read the caller ID. Nanami Kento. You know you haven’t done anything wrong, but you still feel like you’re in trouble as you press the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, (Y/N),” Nanami greets from the other end. He’s younger than you, but leagues more mature, and every conversation you have with him feels just slightly like talking to a parent. “Is Gojo with you?”

Oh. Thankfully, this isn’t about you. “Yeah, unfortunately,” You reply. “He brought the students, too.”

“To a bar?”

You smile, even though Nanami can’t see it. “I’ve already gone through the motions, don’t worry.”

“It’s always something with him,” He sighs, and you imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tell him he needs to get back to Jujutsu High immediately. He isn’t answering my phone calls.”

That’s probably due to the same reason Nanami is calling. “Alright. What d’you need him for?”

“He’s got a mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk and I will not be doing it for him. Tell him this isn’t high school and we aren’t partners. I will not take over in areas he’s lacking.”

“Paperwork and this isn’t high school,” You repeat, a slight smile on your face. “Got it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). Goodbye.”

“Bye, Nanami.”

The kitchen doors swing open as your call ends, and you watch as Gojo ducks to enter. He smiles at you, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Need help?” He offers.

“No,” You reply, mostly because Gojo is absolutely useless in the kitchen. When it comes to food, all he’s good for is picking up the tab. “Nanami’s mad at you.”

Gojo pouts, crossing the tile floor to stand at your side as you chop up vegetables for Nobara’s chicken salad. “What’d I do?”

“He said you’ve got to get back to Jujutsu High because of all the paperwork you have to do.”

Gojo laughs. “It’s probably driving him so crazy that he’s doing it for me right now.”

“He very specifically said that this isn’t high school and he wasn’t going to be doing it for you.” You point your knife at him. “If I hear you’re not being nice to Nanami one more time —”

“Fine, fine,” Gojo sighs. He moves to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle as he hunches over to rest his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll head straight back to Jujutsu High, I promise. Right after lunch.”

He’s always been…touchy like this, ever since you were teenagers. Always wanting to hold onto you, whether it be your hand or sleeve or the strap of your bag. As the two of you became more comfortable, he’d taken to throwing an arm around your shoulders or squeezing you into hugs. He’d press kisses to your cheeks and forehead that he’d swear were just “friendly” if you tried to squirm away.

“I can make these carry out, you know.”

“Absolutely not! You’ve got to sit with us. My students are very eager to learn from you.”

You frown, reaching for the spices, and Gojo moves with you. “I don’t see what I can teach them that you can’t.” You were a First Grade sorcerer, sure, but your powers paled in comparison to Gojo’s. That’s why he was a teacher and you weren’t. People could learn a lot from him.

“I’m trying to show them the different career options they have. Their life doesn’t have to be nearly as amazing as mine. They could be like you, stay in one area and make a living for themselves.”

It comes across a bit rude, but you know he doesn’t mean to be that way. Still, you pinch his arm, smiling as he hisses from the sharp pain. “Don’t say things like that to other people. You’re inferring that my life isn’t as amazing as yours.”

You can tell he’s thinking, working through the implications in his head. “That’s not—”

“I know,” You turn just slightly to look at him. Sometimes you like that he keeps his eyes covered. Gojo’s an intense person, and it makes things even moreso when you can see the bright blue of his irises. “Just a warning.”

You turn back to your task quickly, the kiss that Gojo was trying to sneak landing square on your cheek. Neither of you say anything. He simply watches as you prepare meals for his students.

You know that he’s in love with you. He has been for a very, very long time. And you know that you love him too, in the exact same way he wants. But Gojo Satoru is the type of person who enjoys thrills. What happens when the thrill of you being just out of his reach ends?

Does the affection end, too? Do you lose moments like these, with his arms wrapped around you in comfortable silence? Do you lose late night phone calls and screaming at him or with him and the feeling that no matter where you go, he’ll always be within reach?

Is it worth the risk of losing him? Who do you have after that? Who would you even want, if not him?

You exhale a deep breath as you finish cooking the last meal. “Get off, you sasquatch,” You say, but your nudge is gentle. “I need to get these plated before your students die of starvation.”

Gojo stands to his full height and smiles at you, but it’s pensive, as if he’s been thinking, too. His finger twists around a loose strand of your hair. You mind your business because you’re not sure if you want to know what’s bouncing around that head of his.

--- --- ---

Something is very wrong the next time you see him.

Gojo doesn’t stop by unannounced very often. Well, he does, but he’ll usually give you a call to let you know he’s waiting on your doorstep. Or a text with a house emoji, followed by an exclamation point. House emoji followed by a question mark is him asking if you’d like to come over to his.

Your door is still locked, but you can tell he’s there as soon as you enter. His shoes are by the threshold. His jacket is hung on the coat rack. He’s only been like this a handful of times, so you kick off your shoes and proceed with caution. Today is not the day for petty jabs.

He’s stretched out on your couch. You’d bought it with him in mind, extra long so he could be comfortable on the nights he ended up crashing on it. (You always left him on the couch, but in the middle of the night he’d come shuffling into your room, sleepily slipping beneath the covers.) His blindfold is tossed haphazardly on the coffee table and his eyes are closed. He’s asleep.

Quietly, you set your groceries on the counter. Something must have gone very wrong if he’s fallen asleep waiting for you to get back. Closing took longer than usual, due to a particularly nasty curse that had decided to take up residence in the women’s bathroom.

You shrug off your coat and lay it on one of the barstools. You’d forget it if you actually put it where it’s supposed to go. Making your way around the couch, you sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Satoru,” You whisper, placing a hand on his arm.

White eyelashes flutter and his bright blue eyes are opening. He tenses with the surprise from being woken up, but settles once he realizes it’s you. “Morning,” His voice is raspy. How long has he been asleep?

You don’t correct him, because technically he’s right. It is morning, almost three in the morning, in fact. Your brows furrow as you lean forward to brush the hair from his eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Gojo grunts as he sits up. Even seated, he towers over you. He rubs his eyes as he says, “The kid died.”

You feel a chill creep over you. You don’t need to ask him who. He’s told you enough about the situation that you know he’s talking about Itadori.

“How?”

Gojo looks at you. You’ve seen his eyes countless times, but their appearance never fails to take your breath away. Bright and depthless, blue had never been a favorite color of yours until you met him. “Higher ups sent me away on a mission, then had the first years go in to retrieve survivors from a Special Grade.”

Anger flashes through you. You share a lot of Gojo’s sentiments on the way things are run in your community. It’s tradition, yes, but sometimes tradition is garbage. Sometimes tradition gets people killed. It’s exactly why you stopped taking missions in the first place. People who haven’t been out in the field in years have no business ordering others around.

You squeeze Gojo’s hand. You only knew Itadori for about a month, but he was indeed a sweet kid, vessel or not. You can tell Gojo cared for him a lot. So his pain is your pain.

“I’m so sorry,” You tell him. You aren’t very good with words, but after so long, you know what helps. You switch places, tucking your legs beneath yourself as you sit beside him on the couch. Your arm wraps around his shoulders and you pull him down gently, so he can curl into you the way you know he needs to.

He holds you tight, tucking his face into your neck. He’s feeling the weight of responsibility, of regret, of shame. He thinks this is all his fault, because Gojo Satoru is the strongest. If he had been there, none of this would have happened.

You know it isn’t his fault, not in the slightest, but you also know that he’s not quite ready to hear that yet. It’s okay to sit with the sadness for a while. You rest your cheek against his head, carding his soft white hair through your fingers.

The two of you stay like that for a long time. He tells you more about what happened. You remain quiet, letting him talk through it.

Most people might think that he’s only upset because he’s lost the best chance the world has at getting rid of Sukuna once and for all. But most people don’t know Gojo the way you do. Most people can’t tell that he’s trying to hold back tears because a kid lost their life for no reason. A kid he was responsible for.

“There wasn’t anything you could have done,” You say softly, fingernails scratching gently against his back. “We’ll make this right, I promise. Itadori’s death won’t be in vain.”

“We will?” His voice is muffled against your chest, but you can tell what he’s asking. You nod.

“I’ll come back,” You tell him. “I’ll help you.”

“You hate Jujutsu High.”

“Yeah, but I don’t hate you.”

Gojo looks up at you, bright blue eyes boring deeply into yours. Your faces are close, your noses nearly touching. If you wanted to change everything, you could kiss him right now.

You reason that will just make things worse. So you smile at him and give him a nice, friendly pat on the cheek. “How about we go to bed, hm? I’ve still got a toothbrush here for you.”

You move out from under him, walking to the bathroom. Normally you’d shower as soon as you get home, but you’re too exhausted to even think about putting in any more effort than you have to. A few minutes later, Gojo joins you.

It’s painfully domestic, doing a nighttime routine with him. He uses your products to wash his face, brushes his teeth with his toothbrush that hasn’t moved from the cup you house them in.

Despite your bathroom being small, Gojo keeps close to you. A hand on your hip, or your shirt, or twirling in your hair. Any other day, you’d bat him away. Tonight, you decide to give him a little grace.

It’s pity that has you offering your bed instead of the couch, and definitely not the fact that you’re looking forward to cuddling up to him. He always crawls into your bed halfway through the night anyway, so the both of you might as well stop pretending it isn’t going to happen. Gojo grins at you, the first one you’ve seen all night, and you roll your eyes as you move to your closet to get the both of you pajamas.

Your choice is an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts, while you grab flannel pants for him. The first night he’d slept over, years ago, he’d argued that he prefers to sleep in the nude. You’d quickly countered that it wasn’t happening, so the two of you found a happy medium in him keeping his pants on but not having to wear a shirt. It made you blush madly, but you usually turned the lights off before he could see.

Once changed, you turn off your lamp and crawl into the paradise that is your bed. You’ve spent most of your money to make sure your home is nice, since it’s where you spend the majority of your time outside of work. You’ve splurged on many sets of sheets, but as you settle beneath the blanket, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

Gojo finds you in the darkness. An arm slips under your body, wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You fit easily into his side. You tangle yourself in him, wrapping a leg around his own and draping your arm across his abdomen as your head rests on his chest. His heartbeat is beneath your ear. It’s a reminder that even he is human.

You exhale, letting your eyes shut. You’re both pretending like this is normal. That this is something friends usually do. “Night, Gojo,” You murmur. He hums a response, already on the verge of sleep.

You wake the next morning in the same position. Your back feels stiff from not having moved the whole night. The stickiness on your cheek indicates that you probably drooled in your sleep. Embarrassing.

Blinking through the bright morning light, you lift your head, peering up at him. His face is turned away from you, but he’s still sound asleep. His lips are slightly parted as puffs of air pass between them. You think he looks prettiest like this. Very peaceful, with no irritating remarks making their way out of his mouth.

It’s a sight to wake up to. Would it be so bad, seeing it every day? No—still only once in a while, since work is troublesome for the both of you. Even in the best months, you only see Gojo a few times.

Still, you meant what you said the night before. You’ll be a stand-up Jujutsu Sorcerer for him if that’s what he needs. You’ll probably see him a lot more than you do now.

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest. You aren’t kids anymore. You’re not old, but lifespans are unpredictable. You don’t think there’s much that can kill Gojo, but there’s a lot that can kill you. You should take this leap. You know he feels the same, even if you act like you don’t.

You’ve wondered why Gojo hasn’t said anything regarding this limbo you’ve been in for years, but you know the truth. He wants you to be ready. Patience isn’t a word commonly associated with him, but when it comes to you, he’ll wait.

You aren’t the reckless sort. You don’t charge ahead blindly. You’re not very good at taking risks. Gojo knows this, and that’s why he keeps quiet. It’ll really mean something that way, whenever you decide to tell him. How incredibly vain of him.

“You’re watching me sleep,” He says, voice coming out in a song, and it startles you. How long has he been awake? You frown at his teasing and move to get out of his grasp, but his hold only tightens. He chuckles, turning on his side so you’re facing each other. “Did I look cute?”

You’re too close to him and your face burns, but there’s no escape. “I was trying to see if you had a booger in your nose,” You lie.

Gojo hums, opening his eyes. You’re the first thing he sees this morning, and his mouth is curling into a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” You reply. “You?”

“Fantastic. Can I steal these sheets? They’re really soft.”

“I can send you the link to the website. They’re expensive, though.” As if Gojo worries about that sort of thing.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you hungry?” He asks the question like he’s the host, not you.

“Maybe in a bit.” Truthfully, you don’t want to get out of bed. Gojo is warm, and his fingernails are scratching your scalp just behind your ear in a way that makes your eyelids flutter shut. “What time is it?” You’re starting to feel sleepy again.

“Hmm, eight?”

“Too early to be awake.” You huddle further into the covers, rest your forehead against his chest. You should get up and start your day. You’ve gotta start thinking about your affairs, after all, if you’re going to be a sorcerer full time again.

But the idea of leaving this moment physically pains you. You know Gojo will have to leave soon, will have to handle his responsibilities, but you want to keep him here for a little while longer. You sigh. It’s selfish of you to do this now, but he always tells you you’re not nearly selfish enough.

You pull away from him, looking up into his eyes once more. If you’re going to do this, you’re not going to cower away from it. You’re going to see the look on his face, dammit.

Right now, his eyes are half-open, staring down at you. You think he might be thinking of kissing you. You hope he is. Licking your lips, you say, “Satoru.”

His eyes widen, ever so slightly. If you’re using his name, you’re serious. White brows furrow, and there’s a slight pout to his mouth. He’s poised to protest whatever demand you have of him.

“I’m in love with you.”

He isn’t expecting it, and it almost makes you smirk to throw him off guard. His mouth falls open a bit in surprise. It seems like for once in his life, Gojo Satoru is speechless.

It lasts just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve made a big mistake, but then he’s speaking to you. “Say it again?”

You huff, frowning up at him as your already warm face grows even hotter. “Satoru—”

“Please?”

You swallow and oblige him. “I’m in love with you.”

His grin is wide. “Again!”

“No! I’ve said it twice now and you haven’t said anything— ” Gojo quiets you with a kiss, molding his lips against yours. He’s excited and so eager as he strokes his tongue into your mouth. He’s waited a long time, likely dreamed of this moment, and you smile against him.

“I knew it!” Gojo says as he pulls away. He shifts your bodies so he’s hovering over you, caging you beneath him. “Everyone said you’re too good for me, and you are, of course, but I knew.”

“Are you going to keep gloating?” You ask him. He nods, and he looks so happy your heart twists in your chest.

“First step is to gloat,” He kisses you again, and when he pulls away it’s like you’re both pained to separate. “Then I kiss you, and then I’ll tell you that I’ve loved you for twelve years.”

You scrunch your nose. “Only twelve? I’ve known you for thirteen.”

“You were rather mean to me at the beginning, there. Took me a while to figure out why I liked it so much.”

You laugh, loud and freely, and Gojo’s heart is so full it might burst. He kisses you again, and again, and again, until you’re both panting and questioning how fast a relationship that’s been in the works for over a decade should go.

Later in the day, Nanami Kento receives a call from Gojo. All the sorcerer says is, “I was right!” before hanging up. Gojo’s never been the vague sort, but Nanami smiles to himself. He has a feeling he knows what those three words are in reference to. He opens his text thread to you and types,

Best of luck.

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #writing

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