#but I wanted to post it since I started it so. have them
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The Dork And The Nerd
Hello there!
I didn't post anything with Leah since like for ever, so there it is!
Please enjoy :)
TW : None I think, or please let me know :)
Looking around the room, you readjust the camera one last time before starting your stream. It’s your job, even if some people are still saying that it isn’t a real job and stupid things like that.
You were winning your life easily with it, living your dream. You always loved playing video games, you started alone because it wasn’t what your little sisters were loving to do. When you discovered online games it was a life changing for you. You started streaming when you were 18 years old, which was seven years ago now. It was hard at first to be honest, being a woman in this man world.
But you find some friends in popular streamers who took you under their wings and help you to be where you are now.
You have several thousand people who follow you to each of your live, four night each week. You still have some shit to deal with, like harassers, but you took a manager who is the one reading your mail. He takes on him to choose your different partnership and sometimes answer to the people sending you strange things.
You are openly gay, but that doesn’t make stop some of men to send you disturbing pictures. Thanks god it’s your agent who see them, but you are aware of it. Just like your girlfriend, though.
You start your stream like usual, saying hello to your followers and talking a little bit about actuality or what you did today. You have a white kitten, who you called Purrito, who is almost as famous as you are. He keeps coming when you are playing, sometimes lying on your hand, or trying to catch the mouse of your computer. You already have a lot of bloopers because of him, but you can’t be mad with him.
Lately, your passion for video games seems to have catch the attention of your girlfriend. She always was looking at you when you are streaming, when she can. You usually do it during the evening so she’s back from training or games.
When Leah asked you to learn to her how to play video games, at first you thought she was messing with you. But she was really serious and ask you one more time. And who are you to refuse something to your girlfriend?
At first it was just to have fun, but you soon have an idea, and you used your best puppy eyes to get your girlfriend agreed with it. You wanted to make her play with you, but without her showing her face in your screen.
You never talked about Leah being your girlfriend, even if you are together for two years now. The public know that you are in a relationship, you sometimes mention your girlfriend live. They just don’t know who she is.
You met Leah at a ceremony and Katie who is a fan of your job took Leah when she went to met you. You were happy to met Katie, but you find yourself thunderstruck by Leah. You don’t remember if you were really coherent that night, but Leah followed you back almost immediately when you did it on Instagram.
You waited the next Arsenal games to sent her a message, congratulating her for her performance. You even take a picture of you in the stand with your father (who really was surprised when you ask him to go with you to a women football game). Leah answered you that next time you come you have to tell her, so she could give you a better seat.
You didn’t know if she was serious or not, but she then asked you the next game in London if you are coming and she find you a seat in the friends and family area. After the game she offers you to go for a drink. You then had other dates, and the rest is history.
You got together one month before she did her ACL and even if it was a hard time, you both get stronger. You let Lia Wälti take the lead in Leah’s recovery, but you were always around to help too. When Lia return to her home, you were the one staying with Leah at night. And you kept taking her in her rehab and cooking for her.
The day Leah started to run again, you were at the training to watch her. This is the day where she officially asked you to move in with her now that she could do things alone again. Unless cooking maybe, but that’s another question.
You accepted of course and the blonde happily transformed one of her guest room in your studio of stream.
It’s where you are now, Leah peacefully setting on your living room, ready to go live with you.
“Oh, it looks like our guest is here” you smile when you see that Leah is connected too. “Hi Baby!”
You only said to your viewers that it was your girlfriend, without saying anything else. You are aware that maybe someone will recognize Leah’s voice, but it would be fun anyway.
“Hi Love” she answers.
You make a reminder of the game you were going to play, for her first live Leah chose a car games, Trackmania. It wasn’t your favorite game, but you were so happy that she said yes to you that you would have accept a Tetris game.
“How are you?” you ask her, while making the game ready.
“I’m fine. Happy to play with you tonight.”
“I am happy too” you smile before looking at the camera. “Let’s have her a good evening guys so she will accept to do it more often yeah?”
You hear Leah chuckle, and you can’t help but smile. You already are seeing comments saying that you look whipped, what makes you roll your eyes. It seems to you that Leah’s voice is a little different from what it is in reality, but maybe your mind is playing trick.
You play several runs with Leah, before switching to another game after talking with your chat who recommend to you to make Leah try an adventure RPG. When you look at the clock again, it’s past midnight.
“Oh wow I didn’t realize that it was already so late” you exclaimed yourself. “We are going to stop here guys, I’m sorry. Maybe next time we will try Minecraft or something else, I’ll let you know. I hope you had as fun as I had Babe.”
“It was really fun. Thank you for inviting me.”
You can hear Leah smile and you can’t wait to go to the living room for a cuddle and kiss session. When you played together until know, you were able to show each other or tease the other with kisses.
“You will be invited for more times” you smirk.
Leah left and you take the time to thanks your viewers a little more longer before logging off. You stretch, finishing your bottle of water before going to find Leah. You run on the stairs and Leah already knew you were coming before you jump on the couch next to her.
She laughs when you attack her with kisses all over her face, finishing on her lips.
“Did you really have fun?” you ask, looking at her with attention.
She nods, playing with your hair. She’s smiling and every time you look at her, you wonder how in the world you get so lucky. She’s perfect.
“I did” she smiles at you. “I’m not saying that I want to do that all the night every night, but it was great.”
“Mh I maybe have another idea for us to have fun all night” you smirk.
The tone of your voice is very obvious and if Leah had one doubt, she just has to look the way you are looking at her. Your fingers run on her tight and you kiss her one more time, before sucking slightly at her neck.
Leah gulp and just hums, tilting her head on the side for you to have a better access. You know what you are doing, after more than two years, you know Leah’s body and reactions like the back of your hand.
“Let’s go to bed” Leah decides several seconds after, taking your hand before dragging you in your bedroom on the first floor.
********
“It was a great session.”
You smile at Leah who came to your studio after you played together again. You were still sitting when she entered the room, and she passed her hand around your shoulder from behind to kiss your cheek.
“It was” you smile before turning your chair to face Leah.
She sits on your lap, and you pass your arms around her. It wasn’t the second time that you are playing together while you are streaming, today you chose Fifa and it was very fun. You made the pact not to play with Arsenal or England, but it was still very funny. Leah is a very bad looser, so you play several games in the same team too.
“People are starting to have some suspicion though” Leah says.
She was right, you saw on social media some things about your girlfriend being Leah. But it wasn’t the only name coming.
“Yeah, they said I will make a great couple with some of your teammates too” you shrug, before counting on your fingers “They are talking about Sabrina, Alessia, Kyra and Lia.”
Leah frown, not really liking the picture who comes in her mind.
“Nah. You’re mine.” she answers possessively.
“Do you want to tell people?”
Leah looks at you, thinking for several seconds before answering. This is lasting for some weeks now and you know that you can’t stay hidden forever. You attract the attention of the world by playing together.
“Not now. It’s fun like this, don’t you think?”
“It is” you confirm with a smile.
Leah has the habit to be coupled with every teammate and you are sometimes shipped with other streamers. You like to stream with other of them, certain being your friends too. There is nothing much, but that doesn’t stop people to imagine that you are dating one of them.
But you have to admit too that your stream with Leah attracts more people than usual, and you are a little scared that people will assume that you’re using your girlfriend for the views.
Your face being very close to Leah, she seems to realize very quickly that something is on your mind.
“What’s the matter?” she asks.
“Nothing” you say at first, before sighing. “Well, I mean… I already have some viewers saying that I’m using my girlfriend to gain more viewers, so I was wondering how they would react when they realize it’s you.”
You shrug to show her that it’s not really important, you don’t want to think you are worried about something so little.
“If someone say that you know what my answer will be?” Leah asks with a serious face.
“No” you mumble.
“I will tell them that we are together for two years, that you have been the best girlfriend in the world since. I will tell them how affectionate, caring, sweet, funny, clever and passionate you are.”
You can’t help but smile and feel your cheek being a little red at that statement. Leah smirks and kisses your cheek.
“And I’ll add that if you use me, it’s only in the bedroom and the way you do is actually very talented and also very private.”
You laugh this time, hitting her on the arm. Leah seems very happy about her joke, her eyes shinning with malice. She’s so beautiful. You bite her jaw before whispering.
“You’re such a dork.”
“The Nerd and the Dork, it would be a great book title” she smirks.
“You’re not totally wrong.”
********
“You’re cheating!”
You can’t help but laugh at Leah. You are playing once again against your girlfriend, during a live. You are playing at Mario Kart and you just won the race for the third time in a row. She’s fuming and even if you can’t see her, the noise coming from downstairs are letting you know that she’s actually kicking the ground right now.
“I’m not, Baby I swear. You can’t cheat in this game.”
“Yes, you are!”
You roll your eyes, not answering anything. You are of course very aware about of much your girlfriend hates to lose. You are at the first place while Leah is third, which is really good for someone who isn’t playing video games daily like you. But not for the great Leah Williamson.
“Someone in the comment is saying that I will sleep on the couch. I won’t Babe, right?”
“I’m not sure about it for now” Leah grumbles. “Or maybe I’ll go sleep to the trai…”
You cough suddenly and Leah stops talking, realizing what she was just about to say. You really hope that no one would understand what she was going to say. Or at least another end of sentence, not “training ground”.
“Alright, next game” you say right after.
“I’m gonna crush you.”
She doesn’t and when you join her in the kitchen after, she seems really embarrassed. You ignore the different messages asking what Leah wanted to say and the answer some of them gave. You saw that some people where right and you know that the research will start again.
“I’m so sorry” she says, coming for you while you’re entering the room. “I was fuming because I was losing, and I forgot for some seconds that it wasn’t only you and me.”
You smile, easily passing your arms around her to give her a hug. She cuddles against you when you kiss her temple.
“It’s ok, don’t worry. Plus, you are the most famous between the both of us, you will be the most annoyed by all that.”
“Why would I be annoyed?”
Leah back up her head a little bit, just to be able to have a better look at your face. You arch an eyebrow before answering.
“Because you always told me you want privacy.”
It was in the early hours of your relationship, and you never said anything against it. You understood Leah’s needs, at this time you weren’t as famous as you are right now. She wanted to be known for her skills, her job in football or her implications in different charities. And the point was very easy for you to be understood. Your friends are families know obviously about you two, it would be strange and difficult to hide a relationship when you live together. Plus because of her answer last time you talked about it, you were really sure that it was what she want.
“I told you that at first, but now I wouldn’t mind if people start to know about us.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing, but your mind just blown. You were used to the idea of people stay in the ignorance about your relationship and the love you have for this woman. As long as you have her, why would you complain?
“Do you… Really?” you frown.
“Yeah, I mean if you don’t want to be out…”
“No, I do. I just thought that you would like to stay private for like forever?”
“I love you. I want the world to know how happy you make me. But in several weeks. I want to play with your fans a little more.”
“Sounds good to me” you smirk. “And I love you too.”
********
For the next weeks, you chose one day of the week to play and stream with Leah. Between those days, you were careful to post some things on social media, giving little clues to your followers about the identity of your girlfriend. You never posted something with Leah or even with a part of her hand or hair. It was more subtle than that.
Until one day, where you were peacefully streaming while Leah went out with her friends. You usually go with her, but today it was more an unexpected drink, so you already have something planned on your channel. You have an entire trust in Leah, and you know that nothing would ever happen with anyone. If you go with her almost every time, it’s only to have a great time with her.
Plus, tonight she’s out with Katie, Caitlin, Steph, her boyfriend, and Kyra, so there are really no risks.
You usually wait for Leah to text you that she was coming home to cut your stream, so you have the time to finish what you are doing and say goodbye to your viewers. Tonight though, either you didn’t see her message, or she forgot to send it to you.
Still, there is suddenly a stunning blonde who enters your studio, showing herself in the camera at the same time. You are so surprised that you only can look at her on the screen of your camera.
“Hello Hot stuff! You won’t believe what I just learned about Kyra! Did you k- … Oh shit.”
That’s the moment she realizes. It was almost comical to be honest, the enthusiastic tone with which she began her sentence, the moment of silence and the last words spoken in a low voice.
You only have like two seconds to decide if you want to cut the stream and never talk about it again, or if it’s time to be honest with everyone. You chose a third way and turn to the camera.
“Well it’s time for me to say goodbye. See you tomorrow at eight. Thanks for being here!”
You wave and cut the stream and the camera before turning in Leah’s direction. She seems amused but she has at the same time the same look on the face of a teenager caught doing something wrong.
“Funny way to outing things, this clip will be viral” you comment with a small smile.
“I’m sorry?”
Leah can’t hide her smile and you can’t either. You can be mad at her for something like that. You let Leah comes to sit on your lap, kissing her softly when she’s settled. She taste like tequila.
“How was your night?”
“Great. But I missed you.”
She hides her face in your neck, and you feel the goosebumps forming when her breath stroke your skin.
“Did you have fun?”
She hums, start to kiss your neck and you know that the discussion you were supposed to have right now is delayed for now. You will have a lot of time to talk about it later. Your phones are way too busy receiving tons notifications to be able to do anything with it right now anyway.
********
YourInstagram and LeahWilliamson
liked by liawalti, leahwilliamson, alessia, bethmead and 199,937 others
YourInstagram Two years and a half with this dork. I love you ❤️🤍
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leahwilliamson I love you more my Nerd ❤️🤍
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#leah williamson#leah williamson x you#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson x reader
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Oh! Darling
~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~
Author's Note: requested, it didn't fully fill the request as much as I wanted, I apologize but it's a long one :)italics are flashback as always. also insanely unedited I never edit anything I post so
Summary: Quinn and Y/N have a suprise pregnancy
Warnings: swearing, I think that's all
Word Count: 6,236
Quinn Hughes x fm!reader
July
It was normal for her cycle to be inconsistent, ever since her first ever period she was inconsistent. It would be a week early, a week late, nothing more. Except right now she was a week and two days late.
She wasn’t freaking out until Quinn came home with hot chocolate and a pack of tampons. It was normal for him to just casually buy the products for her. They’ve been together since they were fifteen years old, so of course it was a part of their routine. She moved to Vancouver with him his rookie year and they’ve never looked back.
Here they were sitting on their bathroom floor together waiting for the two minute timer to go off. Her head was against her knees as he was staring blankly towards the floor. After a few scares they have had over the years, she’s kept a few pregnancy tests in their bathroom. They weren’t trying to get pregnant but after nine years together, they were becoming less and less careful.
She lifted her head, turning her gaze towards Quinn watching him count on his fingers. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly while taking in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” she asked barely above a whisper.
He met her eye, before he had a chance to answer the timer went off. Quinn turned it off as he maintained eye contact. He took a deep breath, “Ready?” he asked barely above a whisper. She clenched her jaw as she continued looking into his gaze. She nodded very subtly and Quinn reached towards the counter. He took a hold of the test, keeping it face down.
His hands were shaking, she glanced down and took a hold of his hand holding the pregnancy test. He took a deep breath as she slowly pulled her hand away, he spun it around. Clear as day, it wrote Pregnant. It was impossible to miss. A gasp left her throat.
He lowered the test to the floor as a small smile formed to his lips, he shifted his gaze towards her. He saw the tears starting to fall from her eyes but the smile on her lips. “I didn’t think-” she trailed off while she turned and met his gaze. The smile on his lips and the nervous laughter that left his lips answered the question she had.
He leaned towards her wrapping his arms around her, he swallowed hard before he breathed out, “We’re having a baby.”
After a few seconds she pulled away, a harsh frown on her lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand delicately placed on her thigh.
“Oh god,” she muttered out, “The baby’s gonna be born right before playoffs, oh no,” she let out. Her breath began to quicken as she stood up from the floor. He watched her walk out of the bathroom. Quinn cleared his throat as he took a hold of the test, he stared towards the positive test. He took a deep breath as he stood up from the floor. He placed the test onto the counter as he followed her out of the bathroom.
“It’ll be fine, we’ll worry about it when it comes,” he expressed as found her pacing their bedroom. He stopped her by stepping in her path. He watched her lips quiver as she scanned his features. A smile formed onto his lips as he took a hold of her hips. “We’re having a baby,” he let out again as he looked deeply into her eyes.
“We’re having a baby,” she repeated as she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her up as he spun her slowly.
October
Their last appointment was too early to tell the sex of the baby and they didn’t want to make a huge deal on the reveal. It didn’t matter to them, they were going to be excited regardless. They were sitting in the lobby, praying that no one would recognize Quinn. They have yet to tell their families as they were worried it would be too early and something would go wrong.
It has been impossible not to say anything to his brothers. He speaks to Jack every day and it has almost slipped out of his mouth multiple times. When he did speak to Luke, he tried to leave him alone during his rookie year, he would nearly let it slip too.
Y/N struggled to keep it quiet from her parents since she called them at least once a day. They would always ask about what’s new in her life but she managed to keep it secret. Her sister on the other hand is the only other person that knows. Her sister, Isabella, was visiting the following week after they found out.
It was too early to mention the pregnancy as she was barely seven weeks along, she found out quite late. She had no idea how she was going to manage to keep it a secret from her sister for five days. Y/N was working the morning Isabella had landed in Vancouver. Which led to Quinn being the one to go pick her up and bring her back to the apartment. Which they were planning on moving out of.
Y/N always expressed how much she loved the apartment she was in. It was a one bedroom apartment with two bathrooms. It was perfect until they found out they were having a baby. They decided on moving into a bigger apartment suited for family life. It was evident that they were moving by the pile of boxes in the trunk of Quinn’s car and by the state of their apartment.
Quinn spent the whole drive avoiding the topic of what the use of the second bedroom would be. He kept saying that they were starting to get more people to visit and that’s why they needed a second bedroom. However, Isabella was completely convinced that Y/N was pregnant.
She was obviously right, but Quinn had explicit instructions to deny, deny, deny. Except Isabella was extremely nosey. Quinn was pulling out the coffee table, prepping the pull-out sofa for her to sleep on; when Isabella walked out of their bathroom.
“Are you going to keep lying to me or just tell me?” she questioned as she was holding the ziplock baggie that held two positive pregnancy tests. Quinn lifted his head, his mouth fell open. He chuckled dryly.
“You went through our drawers?” he let out a smirk on his lips.
“I forgot a toothbrush,” she said as she shook the baggy, “I was looking for a spare one!” she defended. Quinn stood up from the floor as he walked towards Isabella.
“You know, Y/N’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled as he took the baggy from her hand. He stared towards it, an instant smile formed to his lips. “We were going to wait to tell anyone until it was further along in the pregnancy,” he explained. He lifted his gaze as he met Isabella’s eye.
“How far long?” Isabella asked excitedly.
“We don’t know yet, we have a doctor’s appointment in a couple days. We’ve only known for a week,” he explained as the front door opened. Y/N jogged inside excitedly. A frown instantly appeared to her lips seeing Quinn holding the pregnancy tests and her sister standing right there. His eyes widened, “She went snooping!” he accused, childishly pointing a finger towards Isabella.
Isabella gasped as she smacked her hand lightly against Quinn’s arm.
Y/N rested her head nervously on Quinn’s shoulder. He leaned his head against her arm as he reached over and interlocked his hand with hers. “Isabella thinks we’re having a boy,” she whispered. He smiled softly as he ran his thumb across the top of her hand.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled, “My mom gave up on having a girl after Lukey,” he let out a soft chuckle.
“My mom gave up on having a boy after Isabella,” she replied.
Before Quinn could reply the ultrasound tech stepped into the lobby with a clipboard in her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.” the tech lifted her gaze to see Quinn sitting down. Her eyes widened slightly at that moment.
Y/N perked upward as her and Quinn both stood up and walked side by side to the back of the office. It took ten minutes before she was on the table, awaiting the freezing gel and the results of the scan. Quinn sat closely to her as he scanned her features. Y/N was staring towards the empty ultrasound screen as the gel was placed on her skin.
Quinn delicately leaned closer as the screen lit up, showing the gray image of the growing baby. The ultrasound tech smiled excitedly as she pointed towards the screen, “That’s your baby,” she said pointing a manicured finger along the outline of the baby.
Quinn smiled softly as he felt his breath caught in his throat. Your baby. It was still so hard to believe. Y/N kept a small smile as she watched the screen, her heart was beating quickly. It was getting more real every appointment.
Quinn squeezed Y/N’s hand, she shifted her gaze towards him. He winked towards her as she shifted her gaze back towards the screen.
It took another ten minutes before the doctor came in. He quickly sat down, rubbing hand sanitizer all over his hands as he smiled towards the pair.
“We’re just going to do a general check-up on how the baby is doing and are we finding out the sex of the baby today as well?” he asked. They both nodded excitedly. Y/N was always super nervous every time she was at the appointment. “Alright,” he let out as he pulled gloves on his hands as he rolled closer to the table.
Y/N held her breath as the doctor put more of the gel onto her growing bump. It took a few seconds before the screen popped up as the doctor rolled the wand over her stomach. It was silent as they stared towards the screen together. Quinn squeezed her hand as he shifted his gaze towards Y/N. He loved the joy on her face.
“Alright, healthy heartbeat. Healthy size for eighteen weeks and now I’m gonna check for the sex of the baby,” the doctor said while raising his eyebrows. Y/N held her breath as she tried to see what the doctor was seeing. Quinn kept his gaze on Y/N.
“Congratulations you are having a girl,” the doctor said as he shifted his gaze towards the pair. Quinn’s mouth fell open as a nervous laugh left his lips. Y/N pouted her lips as she began to tear up. She turned her head to meet Quinn’s gaze. The doctor quickly wiped the gel from her stomach, “We’ve got a few paperwork things that we have to file, but you guys will be out of here in a moment,” he said before he stepped out of the room.
Once they were alone, Quinn leaned towards her kissing her. He rested his hand onto her cheek, “Oh my god,” he mumbled against her lips.
~
It was becoming too real and too hard to keep secret from their families. They wanted to wait until his brothers and parents would be in town for the Hughes Bowl but it would be way too long by then.
Telling them over FaceTime was not ideal but they lived in a whole different country and timezone from their families. Y/N’s parents fell in love with Quinn the second she brought him home. Her mom was asking about baby names the second they moved in together. Her dad also loved Quinn because he didn’t have any sons of his own. In a way over the last nine years, he learned to love Quinn like a son.
“Why can’t we just wait until Christmas?” Y/N let out nervously. Quinn took a hold of the chair and pulled it closer to him, he shifted his frame to face her. He rested his hands onto her thighs.
“I think our parents would be sad that we didn’t tell them sooner, You’ll be-what- almost thirty weeks? They’ll be happy no matter how we tell them,” he comforted. She tilted her head to the side as she frowned slightly.
“I can’t hug my mom after telling her,” she mumbled. Quinn pouted as he ran his hand across the fabric of her pants.
“I know but they are all coming for Christmas, you can see her then,” he muttered, trying to be comforting but it was a difficult situation. His laptop began ringing, alerting them of a FaceTime call from her mother. He leaned towards her delicately kissing her cheek before he answered the FaceTime.
Tilted her head back, swallowing hard. “Hi guys! What’s going on?” her mother said excitedly. Her dad was standing behind her mother, resting his hands on the back of the chair. Her mother’s face fell, “Oh no, what’s wrong?”
“Oh nothing, we’re okay-great actually,” Quinn explained, knowing that Y/N was a bit paralyzed to speak. Her mother quite literally let out a sigh of relief. Quinn soothingly ran his hand up and down her lower back. He turned his gaze towards her and she kept staring blankly towards the screen. “Honey,�� he whispered.
She blinked rapidly as she looked deeply into his eyes for a few seconds before she looked back towards the computer. Her mouth opened and shut for a few seconds before she met her mom’s gaze through the computer. She knew, she had to know already.
“We’re having a baby,” Y/N blurted out.
Her mother simply smiled as she began to cry, happily. Her dad leaned away from his grip on the chair. A smile on his face, he walked away. “Wow,” her mother let out.
Quinn pulled his lips between his teeth as he held his breath.
“How far long?” her mother questioned. Y/N’s lips quivered.
“Eighteen weeks, we wanted to wait until it was safer to say anything,”
“Oh of course, honey, this is incredible news!” her mother expressed as she covered her mouth with her hands. She stood up and turned around and hugged her husband. Y/N looked towards Quinn, teary eyed.
“Does Bella know?” her father asked as he walked towards the camera, his eyes were teary. She’s never seen her father cry, let alone happy tears.
Quinn started laughing nervously. “Isabella had a hunch when she came to visit and snooped around our apartment until she found proof,” Y/N explained as she stared towards the camera.
Her dad rolled his eyes, “Of course she did!”
They spoke on the phone for several more minutes, leaving out the sex of the baby. They still wanted to have a little announcement during Christmas. It was now Quinn’s turn and he was terrified. His parents loved Y/N and were happy that Quinn was happy. They probably would prefer they waited until they were married. But that was still a year or so down the line, too late now. Y/N didn’t want to get married until she was done with her degrees, she wanted her degrees to have her own last name. She wanted to take Quinn’s last name but she wanted her degrees to have her own name.
He took a hold of her chin, as they waited for his parents to call him. He turned her head towards him. He scanned her features before he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.
“What was that?” she asked barely above a whisper as he pulled away. The laptop started to ring as his mother was calling him. He took a deep breath before he pecked her lips once more.
“Courage,” he muttered before he answered the call. He forced a smile towards the camera, Y/N smiled softly as she looped her arm around Quinn’s. She ran her fingertips along the inside of his palm. “Hi,” Quinn muttered out.
“You guys okay? This looks like a Zoom meeting,” Ellen let out, a small chuckle leaving her lips. Quinn let out a huff of air as he smiled.
“We’re really good, actually,” he mumbled. Y/N kept her gaze on Quinn, giving him encouragement. He swallowed hard as he took a deep breath.
“Then what’s going on?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. Jim nodded encouragingly as if he knew what the news was.
Quinn looked towards Y/N, she interlocked their fingers together as she nodded. “We’re having a baby,” he choked out as he shifted his gaze towards the screen. His parents' eyes went wide as they looked towards one another. “And we’re happy about it,” Quinn continued as he pressed his lips together.
Ellen quickly shifted her gaze towards her phone, a slow grin forming to her lips, “Why wouldn’t you be? This is amazing!” she let out before she set her phone down, turning and hugging Jim. He laughed excitedly.
“We’re having a grandbaby!” Jim let out excitedly.
Quinn shut his eyes as he let out a sigh of relief. Y/N tilted her head as she rested it onto Quinn’s shoulder. He leaned and kissed the top of her head as he shifted his gaze towards the screen.
“This is incredible, son,” Jim let out, “Have you told your brothers?” he questioned.
Quinn shook his head, “They are next on the list,” he mumbled.
They spoke on the phone for several more minutes before Quinn ended the call, afraid his father would tell his brothers before he got the chance to. Jack and Luke tend to ignore text messages so Quinn decided to simply call them and hope both of them were home.
“I’m a little shocked at how well this is going,” Y/N mumbled as she ran her hand through the ends of his hair while he turned his gaze towards her. “I just thought there would’ve been a lecture alongside the happiness,” she said with a dry laugh. Quinn rolled his eyes playfully.
“I was expecting the get married before the baby comes lecture,” he let out. She nodded along with him. “It’s still a little hard to believe that this is actually happening,” he expressed. She nodded as she rested her hand on her stomach.
“I know,” she mumbled, “She’s growing inside of me and I still feel like it isn’t real,” she let out. He smiled as he leaned towards her kissing her. She pulled away, resting her forehead against his, “Come on let’s tell your brothers,” she whispered.
He took a deep breath as he began calling Jack, who was more likely to pick up over Luke. Jack answered on the fourth ring. “Quinny!” he shouted in a long drawn out sing-song way. “What’s wrong? Oh shit, you guys didn’t break up did you?” Jack questioned as he sat up from his lying position on the couch.
“No, nothing like that. Is Luke home?” Quinn asked as he rested his hand on Y/N’s thigh.
“Lukey! Luke, come here!” Jack shouted. “He’s in his room,” he muttered.
“What?!” Luke asked, his voice rasped as he walked out of the room.
“Quinn and Y/N want to talk to us,” Jack expressed. Luke groaned as he stood behind Jack, getting into the view of the camera. His hair was messy as he was hidden in a hoodie.
“If you woke me up from my nap to tell me that you two are engaged then I’ll fucking kill you,” Luke rasped out as he leaned forward. Y/N laughed as she tilted her head back. Quinn rolled his eyes.
“See I thought they were telling us they broke up, he looked like he saw a ghost,” Jack tilted his head back as he met Luke’s gaze briefly.
“He always looks like that,” Luke pointed towards the screen. Quinn dropped his head as he rolled his eyes playfully.
“Okay, okay will you stop?” Quinn said while laughing. “We’re not engaged, we’re not breaking up. We’re-uh-” he paused as he met Y/N’s gaze for a second, “We’re having a baby,”
Jack’s mouth fell open as his eyes widened. Luke smiled widely as he leaned back, “See now that’s a reason to wake a man up,” he let out while laughing. “How long have you been keeping that a secret?” Luke questioned further.
“Since July,” Y/N let out.
“Quinn sucks at keeping secrets, how did you guys manage not to tell anyone?” Jack asked, laughing.
“How many times did I call you guys over the last few months?” Quinn let out laughing, “What like three times? That’s how I kept it a secret,”
“Can’t wait to be the cool uncle,” Luke muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jack gasped dramatically.
“Yeah, right, that’s my job,” Jack scoffed. Quinn turned his gaze towards Y/N, rolling his eyes.
“What do you mean? You’re boring, man. That kid's gonna love Uncle Luke,” he said while pursing his lips forward.
“Oh please! I’m boring?! Have you heard anything come out of your mouth recently!”
“Quinn, who’s gonna be the cool uncle?” Luke asked as he leaned towards the camera.
“You can’t ask Quinn that, he’s biased, he likes you better than me,” Jack protested, “Y/N who’s the better, more handsome, more cool uncle?”
Y/N barked out a laugh, “I’m not answering that,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “We’ll let our baby decide who she likes better,” she paused, her eyes widened. Quinn shifted his gaze towards Y/N.
“No way, it's a girl?!” Luke asked excitedly.
“You didn’t hear that!” Quinn quickly let out. Luke shook his head while laughing. “Mom and Dad don’t know that part yet, you didn’t hear anything. Keep it to yourselves,” Quinn expressed as he kept his gaze on Y/N. She was on the verge of tears, with her pregnancy her hormones have been all over the place. Which led to her being more emotional than normal.
“Mom’s going to freak the fuck out,” Jack let out excitedly.
March
It was early, their daughter was coming two weeks early. Her parents were planning on flying in next week but here she was in the passenger seat of her best friend’s car, feeling as though she was about to give birth any minute. Which was entirely not true. Her water broke but she was nowhere near dilated where she needed to be. Her doctor told her to come in anyway since she was a little early before the due date.
She wasn’t quite sure on how to contact Quinn, he was in the middle of a game. Quinn gave her the equipment manager’s number in case something like this happened. She wanted to wait until she was at the hospital and actually admitted.
Riley, her best friend, parked the car as close to the entrance of the hospital as she could. She turned her body towards her. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Quinn right now? It’s intermission, he can be here in like thirty minutes,” she offered, Y/N shook her head as she rested her hand on her large bump. A contraction started as she tilted her head back against the headrest. “Oh god that was like only seven minutes, I feel like that was fast. You should call him,” she expressed.
“Nope, not until I am in a bed,” she groaned as she unbuckled her seatbelt as she pushed the car door open. She carefully climbed out of the car, “This little girl can wait until her daddy is showered and done with his g-game,” she muttered as she started waddling towards the entrance of the hospital.
Riley quickly jumped out of the car and took a hold of the hospital bag. Locking the car she jogged towards Y/N. “Damn, you’re fast for a pregnant girl,” she muttered as she came side by side with her.
“I ran track in high school, what do you expect?” she mumbled out. Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, it was her mom. She took a sharp breath as she brought her phone to her ear, “Hey Mom,”
“Hi sweetheart, how’s the baby?” her mother asked. She’s gotten to the point where every question is directed towards and about the baby.
“Actually my water broke and I’m at the hospital-” she let out, her mother gasped dramatically, “Quinn doesn’t know, he’s still playing-” she gasped again.
“There are no flights to Vancouver at this hour! Oh god-” her mother let out, teary-eyed.
“It’s okay, I promise we’ll be fine, I’ll call you and keep y-oh god-you posted,”
It had been only ten minutes before Y/N was placed in a room. She had simply sat down when Riley turned on the TV in the room, it showed the Canucks game. They were winning 4-o as they showed a goal that Quinn assisted on. “It’s safe to say that Quinn can leave the game,” Riley pointed towards the TV.
Y/N texted the equipment manager, alerting him of the situation. After a few seconds, the broadcast announced, “It looks like Quinn Hughes is not on the bench, once we get more information on that, we’ll let you know,” the camera showed the equipment manager talking with Quinn and him nodding.
He stared blankly towards the ice in front of him. He took a sharp breath as Tyler beside him nudged him excitedly. Quinn smiled as he spun off the bench and headed down the tunnel.
Y/N stood up from the bed as she walked towards the bathroom, carrying her required hospital gown she had to wear. She struggled to get her shirt and sweatpants off as another contraction was hitting her pretty hard. Another minute went by and she was completely covered in the hospital gown.
“They’re doing good, she wanted to wait until she had a room. She didn’t want to get turned away and then having you leave the game for no reason,” Riley explained on the phone. Y/N smiled towards Riley as she waddled out of the bathroom, “Here she is,” Riley mumbled as she handed the phone over to Y/N.
“Hey?! You alright? I’m showering real fast and I’ll be there or-or I can just leave now,” Quinn ranted, he sounded out of breath.
“I love you, I love you so much, please shower before you get here,” she said while laughing. Riley helped her sit down on the bed. Quinn laughed, “We’re good, we’re just waiting on the doctor, I have to call your parents before the broadcasters announce it,” she explained.
“Okay, yeah, yeah do that. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he explained, “I love you,” he let out before he hung up the phone. She quickly dialed Ellen. She answered on the second ring.
“Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” Ellen asked instantly. Y/N let out breath she was holding as she got comfortable on the bed, or at least as comfortable she could get.
“I’m in labor, but everything seems to be fine,” she explained, slightly out of breath.
“Oh my god, okay, we’ll try to get to Vancouver as soon as we can,” she expressed, “This is so exciting!” she expressed.
She shifted her gaze towards the screen, “It looks like Quinn Hughes is okay, great news actually. He had to leave the game early because he’s having a baby. Congratulations Captain!” the broadcasters announced. Y/N felt her heart beat as the words echoed in her mind.
“How are you doing?” she asked, a sob quickly climbed into Y/N’s throat.
She took in a sharp shaky breath as she looked towards Riley, a tear quickly fell on her cheek. “Terrified,” she mumbled out as her lips quivered.
“Oh honey, it’ll be okay. Quinn will be there with you soon, Your parents will be there. Jim and I will be there. You’re not alone, you guys are going to be okay,” Ellen comforted. Y/N nodded as her lower lip quivered.
“O-okay,” she let out.
“We love you, Y/N,” Ellen expressed.
“Love you guys too,” she let out before they ended the call. Riley quickly came to her side. Riley rested her hand on top of Y/N’s.
It took another forty-five minutes before Quinn jogged into the room. “Hey, I’m here, are you okay?” he asked as he quickly went straight to her bedside. She was gripping the side of the hospital bed.
“Yeah, I’m good-” she held her breath. Quinn looked towards Riley.
“The doctor said she’s about five centimeters dilated and that her contractions are getting stronger,” Riley said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Quinn smiled gratefully towards her. They didn’t discuss if Riley was allowed to be there but that was because it wasn’t a discussion. Riley and Y/N have been best friends since they were freshman in high school.
Riley moved to Vancouver after she graduated college, partly for Y/N and her job market.
“What can I do?” he asked Y/N as she slowly loosened her grip and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath as her lips quivered.
“Hold me,” she let out barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” he quickly climbed beside her inside the bed, not a single ounce of hesitation. He adjusted carefully not to lie on any wires or in any way that could mess up anything. He pressed his lips against her forehead as he looped his arms around her body, letting her snuggle up against him.
Riley smiled softly as she walked out of the room, giving them their privacy for a while.
He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly, as he periodically pressed his lips against her forehead.
It took twelve hours.
Twelve hours before their daughter was born. Both of their parents were able to be there. Not in the room, but they were there for emotional support. On March 10th at 9:37 AM, their daughter was born.
It was only her and Quinn in the room with all of the doctors and nurses. Their daughter screamed loudly after she was born. She was placed on Y/N’s chest. She was shaking from adrenaline but the second her eyes landed on her daughter it felt like everything was right.
The second she was laid on Y/N’s chest, she had stopped crying. Stirring slightly as Quinn delicately and nervously ran his hand along the small head of his daughter.
It took about an hour after the birth before Quinn even left the room. Y/N was asleep, reluctantly but her body craved it. Their daughter was asleep in the small hospital bed they provided for her. Quinn walked into the lobby to see his parents and her parents. He smiled widely once he met his mom’s eyes.
“She’s here,” he muttered out. Ellen stood up and instantly hugged her son. They all excitedly shot up from their seats. “I was waiting until they fell asleep, Y/N’s exhausted,” he mumbled as he pulled away. He began cycling through hugs between each person.
“How are you doing?” Y/N’s mom asked. Quinn shook his head slowly as he let out a long breath.
“I’m just happy,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Tired but my girls are more important,” he let out.
Jim engulfed his son in a huge hug. “So proud of you,” he mumbled into his ear. Quinn pulled away as he pressed his lips together.
“Do you guys have a name?” Y/N’s dad asked. Quinn smiled widely as he nodded.
“Elliana, we’re going to call her Ellie,” he explained.
“Oh your brothers are calling!” Ellen said excitedly. She handed her phone over to Quinn quickly. Quinn answered the call. Both Jack and Luke were fighting for more of the camera view. Their eyes lit up once they saw Quinn.
“Can we call you Daddy yet?!” Jack let out. The entire room started laughing, even people who didn't know the family started laughing.
“Please don’t,” he let out, shaking his head. “But yes, your niece is here,” he explained. Both Luke and Jack smiled widely.
“Oh man that’s amazing,” Luke let out, his voice breaking.
“Are you crying?” Jack asked. Luke shook his head while tilting his head back.
“We’ve got a tiny little niece, dude, this is crazy. We can’t even meet her for a while,” Luke let out. Quinn pouted, sad that his brother’s weren’t able to come see him and his beautiful little girl.
“The second the season is done, you boys are coming to meet her,” Quinn said teary eyed.
May
Quinn was exhausted to say the least but he would never change a single thing. His parents and Y/N’s parents were staying at an AirBnB close by to help with the baby when Quinn was away on road games.
Jack was back in Michigan recovering from his surgery while Luke was away on the Men’s World’s tournament. It didn’t stop either of them from calling Y/N every day to see their niece. Neither of them have been able to meet her yet, it was tearing them apart.
“How has it been with playoffs and having a newborn at home?” the interviewer asked. Quinn's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter.
“It’s been a lot. I would love to be home with her every chance I could get but unfortunately that’s just not how the timing panned out,” he let out a dry chuckle, “She’s still so tiny so it breaks my heart that I can’t be with her all the time. But hopefully things go our way and it’ll all be worth it,” he explained.
“Thanks Quinn,” they all collectively said as they walked away from him with their microphones. Quinn stood up quickly as he began walking out of the locker room, his mind preoccupied with seeing his little girl.
It was hard to manage focusing on the playoffs and the fact that he was a new father. But Y/N was so strong through the whole process.
He drove home quickly. He was fast out of his car and into his apartment building. He cautiously stepped inside, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. Y/N was sitting on the couch, folding some laundry. “Hey gorgeous,” he mumbled as he quietly locked the door. She smiled towards him as she lifted her gaze.
“Hey captain, how was morning skate?” she asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes playfully as he walked towards the couch and sat down directly behind her. He looped his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him.
“It was good, nothing too crazy,” he whispered as he pressed his lips on her jawline. She giggled as she leaned her body against his chest. “How are you, my love?” he asked as he ran his hand across her stomach.
“I’m okay, napped for a bit while your mom and dad were here this morning, Ellie is still sleeping. I feel like your mom has some magic touch or something,” she explained as she ran her hand across the top of his.
He chuckled as he pressed his lips against her shoulder, “If you want to sleep longer, I can do this while you go sleep,” he offered.
She shook her head as she tilted her head back against his shoulder. “Nope, this is perfect. I miss you,” she mumbled. She tilted her head to the side as Quinn tilted his gaze towards her. He scanned her features, knowing she was exhausted but listened regardless. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. He took a hold of her cheek, holding her in place.
Suddenly the baby monitor sounded, Ellie was crying. She pulled away chuckling, “She always has perfect timing,” she mumbled against his lips. He pecked her lips quickly before he slipped away from his grasp on Y/N.
“She does, doesn’t she?” he let out, “I got her,” he mumbled before he wandered down the hall towards the nursery. He slowly pushed inside the room, the loud cries quite literally making his heart break. “Oh darling, it’s okay,” Quinn let out quietly as he walked towards the crib, slowly reaching down and picking her up. As soon as Quinn held her, she was soothed.
Quinn smiled towards his little girl, admiring the light color eyes and soft sound of her breathing. “You just wanted attention, huh?” he let out as he slowly walked towards the rocking chair. He cautiously sat down, staring into his little girl’s eyes. “That’s okay, Momma can wait,” he whispered, a soft laugh leaving his throat.
He slowly continued rocking in the chair, staring down at his little girl. She looked a lot like Y/N but she had his eyes. She was beautiful. “Quinn,” Y/N mumbled from the door. Quinn lifted his gaze, smiling softly towards her. Oblivious to Y/N standing there, he had no idea how long she was there.
“Hi gorgeous,” he whispered. She grinned as she tilted her head against the door frame, “We did a good job, didn’t we?” he asked, shifting his gaze back to his little girl.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x y/n#nhl imagines#nhl#nhl x reader#nhl fic#hockey#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes#luke hughes fanfic#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x reader#vancouver canucks#vancouver canucks fic#vancouver canucks imagine
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How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3
The devil with his angel
Joost Klein x fem!reader
summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’
a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3
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— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.
In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.
Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.
The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”
Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.
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Joost Klein
@joostklein✓
It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.
Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others
user79107 and 568K others commented
bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3
user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND
fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12
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{your nickname}
@{yourusername} ✓
I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..
You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx
Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others
hihixlovers and 567K others commented
lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr
apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!
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After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.
You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.
You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”
About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.
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#joost klein x y/n#joost klein#joost klein x reader#joost klein x you#joost klein fanfiction#joost klein requests#stand with joost#joostice#justice for joost#free joost#joost#eurovision#eurovision x reader#eurovision fanfiction#female reader#x fem!reader#fem!driver#fluff
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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞
❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR THESIS ADVISOR !! ❞
✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (yuta x f!reader) (part six of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: just when you had moved on, suguru is back in your life as your thesis advisor, and what choice do you have but to deal -- deal with lingering feelings from your breakup, but also yuta's. and through this, you both find out what you all owe to each other.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, post breakup, dealing with exes, insecurity, semi-exhibitionism, desk sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, multiple orgasms, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / kyrraen (pls go follow them, they are so talented)
✧ w/c: 25,305 | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five
Suguru never had believed in fate before — before he met you.
And now it seemed fate had its own plans for the both of you — pulling you together, even when he had tried his best to push the two of you apart. Try he had, and in the end, you both ended up back where you had started — seated across from each other with a pile of papers littered with red pen.
Except now he himself had found himself littered with you — your tie pin you had given him, the way his fingers wanted to smooth your brow with a kiss as it furrowed while you flipped through your proposal, and how his heart felt whole from the moment you walked in the room. And he knew he would be littered with your marks all his life, more permanent than ink — and he would never be able rid himself of them.
Or of you.
When Yaga had come to him with the news, it was already too much to handle. He was being re-assigned to Tokyo to handle duties for both schools for a time — until someone stepped up to handle Kyoto. Yaga didn’t trust anyone else — and since Suguru had worked at Tokyo longer, it made sense to have him go back.
But then the question of you — the reminder came on the form of your email during their meeting — and you came into his world again the same way you did before — an email for a meeting. But it wasn’t for him.
Not yet at least.
It was hard to know what to do, or what you would want. Yaga could have you re-assigned, but the thesis you were working on was in Suguru’s specialty and he knew half the reason you had asked Yaga was to have a department head listed on your thesis. And to rob you of that wasn’t a choice he wanted to make for you.
He’s done enough of that to you. And he had done it for your future — and he would do this for your future, if you wanted him to.
You’re speechless when he breaks the news to you — as he expected you would be. But his surprise comes when you reply — he expected anger, frustration, a straight out refusal to work with him — but he did not get any of those — he only got quiet acceptance.
“Fine, should we stick to the same schedule that Yaga and I agreed to?” And Suguru takes a minute, leaning back in his chair, “what?”
“I just…I didn’t expect you to accept so readily,” he replies softly, choosing his words carefully, “in my email, I said you could take time to think about it or we could procure a different advisor—“
“Professor,” the word sticks in his chest like a right dagger that barely misses his heart, “out of everyone who works in this department I know you are the only one who is capable of pushing me to be my best, even when I don’t ask for it,” you add under your breath, “especially when I don’t ask for it,”
A hollow chuckle is stuck in his throat, “If you’re sure, it’s your choice,” and he’s looking for a few notes and edits he had written out for you for the schedule you sent along previously.
“It is my choice,” you echo, your eyes meet his, as he looks up from the papers strewn about the desk, “and I choose this,” and he knows all too well what you mean by your deliberate choice of words— and he did love you for your cutting tongue.
Even when it was used against him.
“If you do, then can you choose to come to my old office?” And you’re blinking, brow furrowing — and his cheeks burn, “I left your schedule there — I had a few notes regarding my own schedule,”
You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of a smart remark on the tip of your tongue that you seemingly swallow, as you gather the proposal into your bag, “let’s go,”
The walk over is in relative silence, the campus mostly quiet with the impending end of the semester at bay — as he forces his gaze forward, but that doesn’t stop his traitorous eyes from sneaking glances all the same. Why was it that he was a lighthouse and his eyes were spotlights only made to find your ship on the dark waves of the sea.
And you stop in your tracks, a glance at your face doesn’t give him the answer — but another face does.
“Yuta?” And he’s holding your lunch bag — the same one you insisted on taking with you, refusing to spend more money on the overpriced lunch on campus. And the realization hits him all at once, and he’s suddenly toppling headfirst into the waves.
“You forgot your lunch,” Yuta offers an awkward smile — and Suguru’s eyes find your face again, right before he goes under — the same soft look you gave him.
Used to give him.
And he lets the water overtake him.
~~~
“You forgot your lunch,”
And you never thought a rushed morning would lead to the most awkward moment of your life. Yuta glances between you and Suguru, as you step forward to take your lunch from his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, as if to ground yourself.
“Yuta, this is Professor Geto, he taught one of the classes I took and he’s taking over as my thesis advisor,” and you’re only lucky Suguru is able to tuck away emotions so easily, a polite smile on his lips as he offers his hand to Yuta, “this is Yuta, my boyfriend,”
You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze as you say it — but you wonder what you would find — hurt, anger, or nothing at all? And you couldn’t figure out which would hurt the most.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru says, before shaking his hand, and Yuta nods.
“Likewise,” and Suguru turns to you, hands slipping into his pockets, while yours remained laced with Yuta’s — but how long ago would it had been intertwined in his? “On second thought, I’ll email you my edits to your thesis schedule, I’ll leave you both to the rest of your day,” he gives a stiff smile, before heading on his way.
And he knew this was a future of his own making — the consequences of his own actions.
He gives a bitter chuckle. Consequentialism — the morality is centered around creating the right consequences — and wasn’t it right? Right for you to be happy with someone your age? Right to be with someone who you can hold their hand and be with? Right to be with someone who can give you everything and anything you want?
“I understand the intention of consequentialism, but it just feels so pointless,” you had said while the two of you sat watching TV on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap, the comfortable warmth of your head resting on his shoulder.
“That’s not where I thought your mind was,” Suguru had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but still he indulged, “the point is to get as much good as possible out of a decision correct? The most happiness?”
Your brow remained furrowed, “But the problem is the cost of it — it can come at the cost of your own happiness if it’s creating the right consequences,”
“That’s more utilitarianism—“ and you shrug.
“I understand it’s more complicated, but I don’t see the value in making decisions like that — doesn’t it defeat the purpose because you’re doing it for the outcome — without considering your feelings or the others? You’re nothing more than a happiness pump,”
And as he sneaks a glance back, watching you and Yuta stand there still, fingers still intertwined, his fingers squeeze the handle of his bag, is that why it feels so wrong?
He arrived back at his office, fingers turning the knob and finding an empty tomb — the walls stripped down to the bare, a thick layer of dust that clung to the surfaces, the couch he had in the corner of the room likely relocated to another office — that he thought he had finally left behind. But here he was again — right back where he started.
He dragged his finger through the dust on his desk. Was he nothing more than a happiness pump? Giving himself pain for the sake of others’ happiness — and was the outcome worth it? But he’s swallowing down his pain — a bitter consequence he had to take — because he knew — he would take any pain, if it meant you were happy.
And you were.
Right?
~~~
Yuta knew — he did even before he had started to date you. Or rather, he had suspected. But now he knew.
The first time he saw the two of you bump into each other, he knew because of the way Geto looked at you — and even the way you looked at him — the hurt flickering in your gaze, even when you refused to look at him.
Professor Geto has been much more than a professor to you — he was your boyfriend, the same one Yuta had envied for so many months. Only for him to be back in your life again. And he felt like he was right back to where he had started in your life again — a friend.
And there wasn’t a thing wrong with being your friend — but now that he was more than one, he knew he only wanted even more of you — and to give more of himself. If you would let him.
But when your fingers curled around his, ‘boyfriend’ slipping from your lips, assuaged his anxiety for a moment, but as he watched your eyes find the back of Geto’s head after he left, it all came back.
Your fingers squeeze his, “Thank you for bringing my lunch, Yu,” and it brings him back to the moment, and your face is so readable in this moment — as if to make up for the times he couldn’t make sense of you — searching for an indication that he knew, an implication of his emotions, a question unspoken to ask if he knew.
And he did.
“Of course, baby,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he wants to tell you he does, wants to ask you why you hid it, why you felt you couldn’t be honest, and why you look like you’re still as heartbroken as the day he ran into you outside this building, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later,” but he doesn’t ask.
“Yuta—“ but he’s only pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, fingers cupping his cheek.
“I love you,” and your lips curl into a small smile.
“I love you too,” and it was enough, he thought, as his fingers parted from yours, and he turned to leave.
It was enough, for now.
~~~
How do you tell someone something they already know? You snuck glances at your own boyfriend after dinner, as the two of you settled in to watch something to unwind. The day had gone by as expected, but the crawling anxiety only grew as more time passed, the words wanting nothing more than to leave your mouth.
Why was it you when you had so much to say you couldn’t say it? And now when you had to explain, no words could leave your lips?
God, how the fuck did you catch yourself in this mess? Your ex as your thesis advisor — was this karma for being unethical? A cruel consequence of the choices you made? Maybe fate? No, it wasn’t fate. Things were better without Suguru in your life, simpler and easier. And you were happy — but now this, this just had the potential to ruin everything.
But only if you let it.
And the longer you went without discussing this, the more damage it would be. It was a secret you had chosen to keep — you didn’t think it was pertinent, especially with Suguru in Kyoto. It was a detail you could spare, at least until after you graduated,
But now it couldn’t wait.
It was a piano hanging by a string that’s already snapped and it was on its last fibers, swinging back and forth, waiting to see whether you would push Yuta and yourself out of the way — or whether one or both of you would get crushed in the process.
The walk back to your apartment is an exercise in coping mechanisms to prevent panic or anxiety from settling fully into your skin, holding the string together with your arms seemingly, ready for it to tear you apart.
But it doesn’t.
“I have to talk to you,” you say once you and Yuta are sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under the other to prevent you from shaking it, or running away for that matter, “it’s nothing bad — well, I mean it’s not—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head, “just know I love you, and that hasn’t changed—“
And his lips find yours, cutting off your frantic thoughts with a sweet kiss that only leaves you wanting more, but also leaves you with more questions than answers.
He pulls away, a small smile on his lips, “Breath “ and you sigh, taking a breath, “and I love you too,” your fingers interlace with his, “what is it?”
But you don’t even know where to begin, except at the point, “You know the ex that broke my heart before we dated?” And he’s nodding, “Professor Geto is—“
“Is your ex,” he finishes, and you knew he had figured out, but you hadn’t expected it to come out so matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling and this morning confirmed it,”
“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “after he moved, I never thought he would move back, much less become my thesis advisor,” you bury your face in your hands, “and I don’t want you to think I was hiding it. It’s just with the relationship being taboo, I didn’t think—“
“You were trying to protect yourself and your ex, it’s understandable,” he squeezes your hand, “you couldn’t have expected this to happen,”
And you’re lifting your gaze to his, “How are you so calm? How are you so…okay?”
He gives a sigh, “it’s hard, I’m trying to stay rational for you — for us,” you lean against him, “what are you going to do? About your thesis?”
“I think I’ll have to take Suguru as my advisor. I don’t have much of a choice,” you bite your lip, “I could take another, but no other professor has the same specialization as Yaga, except Geto, and I know he’ll give me good feedback,”
“But?” You rest your head in your hand.
“But having to spend that much time with my ex? Having to work on something so important to my career with him? Having to put you through that?” you feel more lost than when you began this conversation, “I don’t know what to do. I already agreed to it, but I think it’s only sinking in,” and you turn to him, “and then there’s you,”
“What about me?” and you shake your head.
“How can I put you through watching me spending hours with my ex over the next semester?” And Yuta shakes your head.
“A decision important to your future shouldn’t just be based on me, it should be about you,” and you purse your lips — another reason why Yuta was so sweet, as you lean against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I’ll keep him as my advisor for now, but if you have a problem, please talk to me okay?” You lean back to look at him, “please?”
“Of course,” and his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, “and you always deserve me — because I chose you.” You kissed him, his arms curling around you, as you leaned into his touch — the one place that always felt safe.
And you didn’t know that he just hoped — you’d choose him too.
~~~
Fuck. How was it you found yourself before Professor Geto’s door yet again?
Winter break had flown by and now you found yourself back in the office you thought you had left behind not so long ago. Even if it felt like forever. You had spent your time split between working on your thesis, with the edits to your outline that Suguru had provided you, and with Yuta — who was more endlessly understanding than you could have hoped to imagine. And even today, as you headed off to meet Suguru in his office, he had nothing but soothing words for your nerves, sweet kisses, and a promise for a good meal when you got home.
You hovered before the door of his office — no matter what had happened throughout these months, why did it always feel as if you always ended up here? Pulled against your will into a rotation around him — one that would have you stuck into a constant push and pull — and just when you had let go of his grip, you were pulled back in. And as your fist hovered next to the door, bracing to knock, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back in.
But what you didn’t know as you stood before the door was that the man behind it was more anxious about this meeting than you were.
~~~
“You’re early,” Suguru glances up from his paperwork, his top of his pen pressed to the seam of his lips, “for once,”
Suguru himself had nearly been late this morning — ever the hypocrite, he supposed. He could barely sleep the night before, spent catching up on the work piled up for two department heads while the Kyoto campus makes potential temporary candidates jump through hoops. And then there was the other reason, his meeting with you — and all the complicated feelings he didn’t wish to entangle himself in. And yet he always fell deeper into your web, as if he didn’t willingly ensnare himself to begin with.
He didn’t even know Yaga was sick, but he had seen the change in him. The subtle differences in his demeanor, the bags around his eyes, and the creeping slowness that came with illness. But it still hit like a gut punch to hear it from his mouth, and for him to ask to take over duties for him was a double edged blade of honor and complication.
Yaga had given him the option to turn it down: to keep managing everything from Kyoto — but he accepted anyway — accepted because he knew that you’d be out of a thesis advisor. And he would be left unable to help from Kyoto with the in person role an advisor played.
And so he was here.
When he finally had gotten to lay down, eyes fixed on the familiar ceiling fan again — as he had managed to get his old apartment back by some miracle — and he hates how this place is a husk of itself without you here. But even with you here before him, his eyes snuck at glance at you, it somehow was worse being with you — when he was nothing to you. He could bear to not be your lover, but he couldn’t bear the weight of your hatred, or worse, your indifference.
You cross your arms, your laptop bag draped on your shoulder, “You’ll never let that go until one of us is dead will you?”
“That’s assuming we wouldn’t haunt the other,” he replies without missing a beat, as you take a seat across from him, eyes taking in his office. The same set up from before, if not a little less ostentatious and obnoxious — a few missing pictures and awards tucked away, the missing luxury sofa, and the lack of leather bound books lining shelves, instead minimally decorated with a few select titles — including What Do We Owe Each Other, prominently displayed.
“I have better things to do than haunt you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop from your bag, “did you forget to finish unpacking?” And he doesn’t offer even a look up at your remark.
“No, just decided to take a certain person’s advice and try to take a less pretentious approach to my office,” his lips curled in that damnable wry smile of his, “plus not everything has been sent back from Kyoto yet,” and he leans forward, plucking your revised thesis outline from the neat piles lined up on his desk, “but my office decor isn’t why we’re here,” he flips through his notes on your draft, “the outline is in good shape, have you started on your draft?”
You pull a stapled stack out to slide to him, “I have fleshed out some of my main points and I wanted your thoughts before I dove further,” and he takes it before scanning through it, silent as he peruses the contents.
His eyes flit up, “You didn’t have to wait for my approval—“
“I know, but I value your opinion,” you grumble, eyes averted as you admit it, a graze of your teeth against the bottom of your lip. It draws a small smile from him, hidden away behind his closed fist pressed to his lips, “as my advisor,” you add, and he nods.
The meeting finished up with much else, as you slide your laptop and things back into your bag. And for the first time your eyes meet his.
“Have you been sleeping okay?” and he’s blinking a moment, as you continue, “you look tired. You should sleep more instead of working,”
He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“
“You have bags under your eyes, Professor,” you roll your eyes, “listen or don’t, but I rather my thesis isn’t re-assigned last minute because you ran yourself into the ground,” you say before turning to leave.
“I expect your next draft by the beginning of the next week,” and you pause, the click of the knob as you pull the door open.
“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” And you’re gone, door shutting behind you, and he leans back in his chair, a smile that he can’t quite hide on his lips.
Maybe he wasn’t quite nothing to you after all.
~~~
“I’m home, baby,” you say, as you walk in, the burden of the day still in the process of sliding off your back as you passed through the threshold of your apartment. You stripped yourself of your cost and your shoes, hanging your bag up, “Yu?”
You checked your phone with no text or call from him — he said he would be at your place, and that’s when you spot a familiar mop of black hair from the couch. Your lips curl as you round the couch, only to find him fast asleep, his work spread out around him. His first day back seemed as stressful as yours, and yet he hadn’t complained.
His bags were dark — a product of a bad night’s sleep — a running trend for today seemingly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he wouldn’t wake simply by that, but you heard the quiet mumble of words you couldn’t catch. You glanced at the kitchen and found dinner prepped but not made. You smile softly, as you take the throw blanket and gently spread it over him, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and then rising to your feet.
You’re almost done cooking curry when Yuta stirs, the smell of the stewing beef and spices waking him, as he lifts his head, back of his hand rubbing his eye, while he glances at you with the other.
“Hey sleeping beauty,” your lips curl, doing a bad job of stifling your chuckle at the sight of his black hair askew, “dinner is almost ready,”
“Dinner? When did you get—“ and he picks up his phone to check the time, a small groan stuck in his throat, “why didn’t you wake me when you got home?”
“I would have,” you wipe off your hands, as you make your way to the living room, as Yuta swings his legs off the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but you’re so cute when you’re sleeping,” and his cheeks flush an ever so subtle pink — even after this time together, it was so easy to fluster him, “plus, it looked like you needed it,”
Your hand brushes his cheek, and he’s leaning into your touch, your other hand running fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “I did,” he mumbles, “it was a long day,”
“Want to talk about it over some rice and curry?” and he bites his lip, before he leans in to press a sweet kiss to you, delighting in the desperate look he gives you when you drag your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips only to pull away, “don’t pout,” you drag your thumb down his lips, “I’ll kiss you plenty after dinner,”
“Promise?” And you drag him to his feet and he’s walking to the bathroom as you’re opening cabinets to take plates out, only for his arms to wrap around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.
You chuckle, biting back the shiver that runs up your spine at the warmth of his touch, “what’s that for?”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze with umbra eyes that has you lost in the only inky black sky you craved.
“Of course, Yu,” you murmur before his lips find yours again, and you just wished you could live in this moment, as he parted from your lips only to press another kiss to your cheek, but you supposed you could—
—For now at least.
“She’s what?” Maki stares at Yuta as he rubs the back of his head, her words nearly ringing out in the empty conference room, “she’s spending a bunch of time with her ex and you’re ok with it?”
Yuta has made a mistake — the mistake of being twenty minutes early to this student government meeting only to find Maki here alone, scrolling on her phone. Her eyes flitting up only for her to tilt her head and bark:
“Oi, what is it now?” And Yuta didn’t know if he liked being so seen by her.
Especially now that he was being judged for his decisions — or rather, raked over the coals for them.
Yuta purses his lips, “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I don’t know what to do. She has to work on her project with him — I guess, how could I object?” And how could he? Your omission made sense, you were only trying to protect your reputation— and your ex’s by extension. But it didn’t make it sting any less.
“Doesn’t she have another choice? Couldn’t she work with someone else?” Maki crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, as if she can detect the holes in his lies by pure reflex, “aren’t you worried she’ll go back to him?” And voices every worry almost if she’s ripped it from his mind itself.
“I am, she does have other choices, but I couldn’t be the one to make her choices for her—“
“But you couldn’t tell her how you felt about it?” Maki shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this conversation is giving her a headache — or more likely, he’s giving her a headache, “how do you feel?”
Yuta chews his lip, leaning on his arm on the table, “I don’t know, I understand it’s just a project — it’s something for her future — I don’t want to make things more complicated for us,” he mumbles.
“You mean for her—and for your relationship,” Maki crosses her arms, tilting her head, “Yuta, if you can’t be honest with her, what’s the point of this relationship?” And people start to file into the room for the meeting, so she hisses in a whisper, “you need to figure out what you want — and how to tell her how you’re feeling because it’s going to eat you alive or drive her into her ex’s arms — either way, you won’t be in this relationship,”
And on that bleak note, she gets to her feet to corral everyone into their seats, leaving him to simmer in her words. His phone lighting up nearly on cue with a text from you—
Can’t make the meeting this week, babe — Geto rescheduled my meeting with him this week for now, so I’m headed there
A hint of irritation pricks at him — it had to be today, during the only time that they had together at school?
Another message comes through.
I’ll see you at your place after the meeting - love you 💕
He locks his phone, tucking it away in his pocket — as Maki starts the meeting.
It was fine — he would see you at home. It didn’t matter — Geto had only these meetings, Yuta had much more of you. It was fine.
He forced his gaze forward, a gnawing dread in his stomach. Right?
“What do you mean it was expected?”
You were starting to remember the reason why you hated this man so vehemently when you first met him. His nearly smug expression made you want to leap across the desk and strangle him — though you knew the consequences of that action wouldn’t turn out well for you — nor the proximity for that matter, “what I wrote—“
“Is what others have written in papers time and time again,” he cuts you off, and you slump back in your chair, as you flip through the red inked comments he had so thoughtfully ripped apart your first few pages — the precise cuts and slashes enough for red ink to look like blood, “your thesis needs to be a unique take—”
“And now it isn’t unique enough?” you grumble, crossing your arms, as your cheeks burn, “soon you’ll be saying I’m rambling again,”
“No, I was able to rid you of that habit a while ago,” you glare at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “I would be concerned if you started to regress,”
“Well, at least it would only be academically,” the words spit like venom from your mouth without a thought, but the hurt that flickers across his face is one that seemingly has too much thought behind it, “sorry, that was inappropriate,”
“It’s fine,” the hurt is gone from his expression, as unreadable as it always was, “to get back to our discussion, I know you want this paper to be published by journals, and in order to do that, you need to have a perspective that hasn’t been explored before—at least not fully. Your outline reflects that, but your paper is regurgitating ideas that you’ve read,” he’s handing you a list of papers and books, with some noted passages, “read some of these materials, it might help give you some ideas to rework your paper,” and then he adds, “and you knew I’d say this,”
You knit your brow together, “What?”
He leans against his arm propped against the top of his desk, “Why else would you want me to see if you were going in the right direction? You always have an idea what you want to write, of where you want your paper to go — and you never wanted my greenlight for a long time now,”
You hate how he can still see right through you — you hate how easily he can pinpoint your problem without you uttering a helpful word. Even before, it always felt as if he was the only one who saw you, without you having to explain a single thing.
“You’re right,” and he hated how right he was, “I wasn’t sure where I was going,” this thesis had been weighing on your mind day and night, pricking at your nerves each time you stared at the blinking cursor of the document, “I still don’t,”
Suguru murmurs your name softly, his gaze as gentle as it always has been for you, a part of you hoped — only for you, “As I’ve always said, the only reason why I push you is because I know you can do more. This thesis would be outstanding for many scholars, but I know you can do more,” he tilts his head, small smile on his lips, “and I know you still can,”
“What if I can’t?” The question slips out before you can even think it, and he raises an eyebrow.
“There is no ‘what if,’ I know you can do it,” and you bite your lip, “i don’t have any doubts,”
“Not even one?” You reply, an eyebrow quirked.
“Not when it comes to you,” and he said just what you wanted to hear, but you hated it all the more — because how did he know you so well? How did he know you so well and yet not know to talk to you before breaking your heart?
But it didn’t matter now. And you couldn’t trudge up these feelings now, or maybe ever.
“I’ll read these materials and rework it,” and you begin to collect your things all the while, getting to your feet.
“Good,” and you catch sight of his smile in the reflection of your phone, “it’s what you owe yourself.”
And your eyes meet his for a moment, so why couldn’t he give you what he owed you before?
“Thank you, Professor.”
“I’m back,” you call out in Yuta’s apartment, tucking your keys away into your bag, as you slip your shoes off and shrugging off your jacket, but you hear nothing in response, “Yuta?” But not a sound — no quiet voices of the TV, the clatter of dishes and utensils in the kitchen, and no sign of him in the bedroom either.
You check your phone, as you sit on the edge of the bed, creaking under your weight, and you see his text: sorry baby, Maki took the group out for dinner after, you’re free to join us. And the address is sent underneath.
But the text was well over twenty minutes ago, and it would take you longer to get there — which meant dinner would nearly be over. You laid back on his bed on your side, typing a reply.
Sorry Yu, just saw this :(. I’ll come next time. I’ll make something up fast and probably lie down. I’ll see you at home.
You curl up on the bed, placing your phone down with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your nose turned into his sheets, Yuta’s scent flooding your senses, and you could nearly feel his arms around you. Almost.
God, you missed him — especially you two just kept missing each other like this — and it made it all the more important you stayed awake.
Your eyes flutter open, the sweet siren of sleep growing all the more tempting, a late lunch sitting like stones in your stomach and the need for the sandman’s relief growing headier.
And before you knew it, your legs were tucked under the comforter and your eyes succumbed to their own weight.
Your soft breaths filled the silence of the apartment, and even as Yuta came in an hour or so later, only to find you sprawled out messily in his bed, phone still in your hand, did he chuckle. His hands are gentle as he guides you into a normal position for sleep that wouldn’t fuck over your back, putting your phone on charge, and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
And as he leaves the room to shower, not hearing the quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips.
“You have to try a little,” you’re nearly waving your ice cream cone in front of Yuta’s face, soft serve dripping onto the pavement, and the soft pink swirl threatening to topple over in front of your eyes, but the risk of losing your beloved ice cream was not as important as advocating for it, “c’mon it’s so good—”
“Baby, the ice cream is supposed to be your treat for all the progress you’ve made on your thesis, not a taste test, and I have my own flavor—” but as the ice cream hovers in front of his face, Yuta tastes it — the subtle sakura flavor lingering on his tongue, “it’s good,” he concedes, “but not as good as my matcha,”
It had been a lot to tear you away from your work — it had been weeks in the making of trying to get you to take a break that wasn’t you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop and notes strewn about or a mindless TV break. And the times you both were supposed to have together often ended with one of you being busy or falling asleep. He barely remembered the last time the two of you had spent together that didn’t involve takeout or the couch.
You pout, “Sakura is so much better,” you grumble, licking at your ice cream, trying to stem the excess melting off the sides of your waffle cone, and he chuckles, as a little of your ice cream sticks to your nose.
“More for you then right?” he’s pulling a tissue out to wipe your nose and lips before kissing them, “Mm, it’s sweeter on your lips,” and he knows your cheeks are burning as you avert your eyes, biting your lip.
“You’re the worst,” and he laughs, as he wraps his arm around your middle, “but I’ll say you’re right about today. This date was definitely needed,” you lean into his touch, still working on your ice cream, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,”
“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not just you that’s busy—”
“I know, but it’s mostly been me,” your eyes find his, and he wavers under your glance, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, and I promise, it’s only going to last a little longer, once I’m done with my thesis I’m all yours,”
And it’s hard for him to believe that — but he tries, because he knows you are.
“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m just glad we got to do this today, I just feel like we keep missing each other, and it just…it’s been bothering me,”
And you kiss his jaw, before softly smiling, “You’re not alone,” and his lips find yours again, and again, ice cream starting to run down his fingers and palm, but he could care less about anything else but you at this moment, “You’re gonna make me drop my ice cream,”
“I’ll buy you another,” and you laugh, kissing him this time, and he melts just like the ice cream into your grasp, your arms wrapped around him tight, “now who’s making our ice cream melt?”
“You said you’d buy me another anyway,” you nuzzle his neck, “plus I have to leave space to eat you up later,” and you giggle as his cheeks burn, “you blush so easily still, thought you would be used to my teasing by now,”
“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, still feels like a dream,” you pinch his cheek in reply, a smirk on your lips, as you kiss the skin that you pinched.
“Now, it’s not a dream, is it?” And right as your lips were about to meet his again—
RING. RING. RING.
Your brow furrows as you ignore it at first, before a sigh catches in your throat, “hold on—“ you check your messages, your brow furrowing, “fuck,” you swear under your breath.
“What’s wrong?” And you’re tossing your ice cream in a nearby trash can, wiping your hand with one of the tissues the ice cream place had handed you, before texting back.
“Geto wants to meet today about my thesis. Apparently some departmental meetings got pushed around, and today is the only day he can meet in person—“
“Do you have to—“ and you’re shaking your head in exasperation, burying your face in your hands.
“I have no choice. It’s the only time until a week and half from now, and I can’t wait to get this feedback, otherwise it will throw off my entire schedule—“
“But this is the only time we can meet,” he cuts you off, voice catching on the words, as his tongue is caught between holding it and wagging it, “I miss you, baby, we haven’t seen each other in weeks because of our schedules, because of your thesis—“ because of him, “when will our relationship take priority? When will I be important enough to matter?”
“Yuta,” your voice breaks, “of course you matter to me—“ and your phone vibrates again, cutting you off, and he takes a beat and a breath. He swallows thickly, this wasn’t the right time for this.
But when would it be?
“Go,” he says, and your eyebrows knit together, lips parting to refuse, “I’m okay, really. We’ll talk when you get home,” but he’s stepping towards you, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “promise, we’re ok. Just go. I’ll call you.”
“You sure?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if he should let you go or stand his ground — but, his fingers cupped your cheek, and kissed your lips — but he was sure that he loved you.
“I’m sure,” and he wanted what was best for you — and he watches you leave after you say your farewells — even if it wasn’t best for him.
You shouldn’t have agreed to this.
Agreed to take this meeting over your date. Agreed to meet in the lecture hall instead of his office. Agreed to have him as your thesis advisor. Agreed to even take a course with him to begin with. You were several steps too close to regret being born, but your real mistake was ever pursuing this man to begin with.
That was your mistake — and now you are reaping what you sow.
Literally.
“Your lecture was compelling — I have so much to learn from you,” you stood outside his lecture hall as students filed out quicker than usual, without the typical quorum that formed after every one of his classes — only to find the reason that a single person commanded his attention, “I didn’t realize how wonderfully interesting philosophy could be as a topic,” her voice already grates on your ears, the elongated syllables of her words nearly enough for you to roll your eyes into the back of your head so far that you were they would get stuck.
“It’s a fine line between interesting and dry, I’m glad I could walk it for you, Mei Mei,” and you could hear the smile in his tone, the saccharine sweetness enough for you to choke on and die of excess sugar, but unfortunately you don’t, so you have to hear the rest of this conversation.
“I’m so glad I took Satoru’s advice to see your lecture, it was definitely eye opening,” and you furrow your brow, “he’s been asking me about you — he told me if I stopped by to have you call him,”
You purse your lips — Satoru?
A sigh in his voice as he speaks “He sent a real messenger this time? I get his texts, I have been really busy with my duties—“
“You know what they say — about all work and no play?” You hear the click of heels against the floor, as she assuredly steps closer, “maybe I can help you with the play—“
You knock on the door then, hand possessed, as you spot the woman with whom the voice belonged — her long silver locks tied into a braid that hung past her shoulders, her dark eyes finding yours and brow arched in curiosity, and wine stained lips curled.
“Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our meeting?” Your voice was laced with irritation you didn't intend to have, “I have a class after this, so unless you’d like to reschedule?”
Suguru’s lips part, only for Mei Mei to speak first, “I’m sorry about that — that’s my fault — old friends you know?” Her head tilts, as if to say, no, I know you don’t know, “and you are one of Suguru’s little students?”
“I’m his former T.A. and he is my thesis advisor,” and his girlfriend, you want to add — ex girlfriend, rather, but the words are as taboo as your feelings are, “I’m sure Professor Geto wouldn’t mind speaking to you after our meeting if you could wait,”
And again Suguru opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off again, “Oh I wouldn’t mind waiting at all, not for him,” she walks past, “I’ll wait for you in your office, Suguru,” and you have to force your expression to be neutral, a knot in your gut, and a fist clenched and hidden around the handle of your bag, “I’ll make myself comfortable,”
The lecture hall door closes behind her, the click of the door brings silence between the two of you, “I apologize if—“
“No, I should be sorry for interrupting,” you cut him off, your throat tied into knots, a distinct dull ache in your chest that surely shouldn’t belong to you — not after all of this, “I should have just rescheduled—“
“No, I’m glad you interrupted,” he says, “we have an appointment and she really is only a—“
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Professor,” and the title seems to cut this time, slicing through his mask, fraying his calm demeanor and leaving behind a deep frown, “it’s your business, not mine,” not anymore.
His mouth opens and close, before he speaks, “Maybe not as a professor,” he says softly, taking a step forward, “but I think I do as your—“
“I’m not ‘your’ anything—“ you interrupt him, taking a step back, “I’m only a student, and your advisee, nothing else, Professor Geto,” you’re turning to leave, “let’s reschedule after all, I have somewhere to be,”
You had to be somewhere that wasn’t here — here with dredged up emotions that had no right belonging to you. Ones that you thought you had moved past, ones that shouldn’t hurt you the way they do now, and ones that you don’t know how to stop from spilling from your lips.
“You’re not just—“
“Did you hear that she would wait for you?” you don’t turn to look back at him, “I wish you could have done the same,” you give him a second, one second longer than he gave you when he broke up with you, to reply, but he says nothing, “I’ll email you a few times to meet next week, just send me any edits you have on my pages.”
The door clicks behind you as you leave the classroom behind, wondering if you had ever rid yourself of your feelings, or if you had simply buried it—
And now, you are starting to unearth it — and your world may crumble underneath you along with it.
There was something wrong with him.
But there always was — when it came to you.
Suguru stared at the email you had sent later that week, opting to skip the in person meeting again for the third week in a row. The semester was over half over — and now the other department head had started in Kyoto, so he had a little more free time — and yet he couldn’t use it to help you, at least not really.
Your thesis was shaping up — you were on the right track now, and he knew your paper would need little edits before being submitted for peer review. And when it did, a journal would be lucky to publish it. By that standard, he could take a more hands off approach — but he never wanted to be hands off, not with you.
He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms, fingers trace the curve of your cheek as he’s done countless times before, and press a kiss to those lips that consume his consciousness.
But he couldn’t.
Not when he was the one who had broken your heart, when you had managed to piece it back together, and when you had found happiness with someone else.
Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.
Mei Mei was an unforeseen complication — a donor that made some generous investments in the university — trivial with the amount of wealth she possessed, mostly due to Satoru’s convincing. And Satoru was the reason she had decided to sit in on his class — and he was stuck entertaining her, while his best friend was away on his sabbatical. And he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with him while he was away — his apparent revenge after Suguru had avoided his texts.
And your reaction was—not what he expected. He pursed his lips, you were jealous right? That’s what you seemed to imply with your words — as if Mei Mei was a friend he would be interested in. The pot calling the kettle black — when you were the one to move on first. A sigh caught in his throat, not that he had any right to complain. Not when it was his fault.
But when the only person he was truly in love with was in front of him — the pain in your gaze as fresh as it was the day he had broken up with you — it was hard to hold back, especially when he wanted nothing more than to—
And then there was a knock at his door, “it’s me,” your voice came through the wood, his eyes sliding to the time, it was late into the evening, “can I come in?”
“Yes, come in,”
“I apologize, I just had a few questions I wasn’t able to ask over email, and since I was on campus, I thought—“
He shakes his head, your rambles still as endearing as they always were — though you had kicked the habit in your papers, you couldn’t help but ramble in the way you spoke, “No need to explain, what can I help you with?”
You lean back, hands folded in your lap, “Do you remember when we discussed the concept of a happiness pump as a criticism of utilitarianism?”
“Yes, in class, we discussed it — the idea of someone who will do anything to make others happy, even if it makes them miserable,” he tilts his head, as he leans back in his chair, eyes betraying him as he watches your dress ride up ever so slightly as you cross your legs — he forces his gaze to your face, “do you plan on using it in your thesis—“
Your eyes could cut stone with its biting glare, “No, I don’t, I wanted to talk about it in context of why you broke up with me — do you plan on being a happiness pump for the rest of your life? Or is that simply for me?”
His mind moves slowly as his words do, “what—“
“Because it’s only for me, it’s flattering — if it’s what you do for everyone, well, it’s just exhausting,” you scoff, twirling a strand of your hair with your finger, “especially when your idea of what will make others happy is so misled,”
“And how’s that?” He says through gritted teeth.
And you’re rising from your chair, “You think my happiness means to make yourself miserable, when it does nothing more than make me unhappy,” you’re rounding the desk, fingertips dragging over the edge of the surface, “do you want to spend the rest of your life miserable? Do you think that girlfriend of yours will make you happy?”
“She’s not—“ and your heels clicking against the wood cuts him off.
And you’re only drawing closer and closer, and he can’t bring himself to speak — words caught in his throat because he knew anything he uttered would break this spell, and he wanted nothing more than to succumb, “pumped full of unhappiness when it could very well be the opposite—“ and your hand is sliding up his chest, toying with the top buttons of his button-up, lips ghosting his ear as you whisper, “when you know I know exactly how to pump you, don’t I?”
“Sweetheart, please, we can’t—“ and your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, a gasp lodged in his throat, as your hand grazes his tenting bulge, twitching against your thumb as it runs over the clothed tip, “fuck—“
“We could be so happy, like before,” your lips brush against his, and he crumbles under your touch — his resistance crumbles like a statue made to wait, and god, he’s waited so long for this — too long.
His lips find yours in a bruising kiss, the way he’s wanted to since he had watched you leave that day — the way he should have, the way he should have grabbed your hand and stopped you, pulled you into his arms, and never let you go.
And he never would again.
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
Suguru jolts awake at the sound of his phone, a paper stuck to his face, drool sticky at the corner of his mouth. He tugs the paper away, rubbing his eyes, as his heart slowly retracts from his throat.
A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, what the fuck was he doing? Sleeping at his desk again accompanied by wet dreams of you — he thought he had grown from this. But you always sent him right back where he started, his eyes falling to the bulge in his pants. He ignores it, gathering his things and tracing the edge of his desk as he rounded it to leave his office. He took a look over his shoulder at his office that he spent so much time with, he was sure of one thing — he flicked off the light — you would be the one to haunt him.
For the rest of his days.
“Baby, aren’t you gonna get up now?” Yuta murmurs in your ear, pressing sweet kisses to the skin behind it, fingers resting against the nape of your neck, “you said you have to practice for your thesis presentation,”
You mumbled, burying your face in his neck, as the two of you lie entangled on the couch for your mid afternoon Saturday nap, “a few more minutes,”
The semester had been going by far too quick, days slipping into weeks, and now there was just over a month left in the semester. And soon you’d be graduating — his fingers raked gently through your hair — and he didn’t exactly know what that meant for the two of you.
He still has a year left in his program, and you were going to be moving on — though you weren’t sure exactly where. And he would be here — but what then? Would it be a long distance relationship ? Would you look for opportunities here? Or would it be something else?
He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.
So many of his friends had warned him not to date while in grad school — that it would only end in heartbreak, and the more significant fact that it would always end. Your face nuzzled into his neck, warm breath still warming his skin, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head — and he never wanted to be apart, not from you.
“Baby,” you mumble, “what time is it?” And he can’t help but smile at you, as he reaches for his phone.
“It’s almost four-thirty,” and you groan softly, wrapping your arms around him tighter, “you still have time before you have to go practice don’t you?”
“No, I reserved the classroom until seven, if I don’t go now, I won’t have enough time to practice,” you kiss his neck, “I have to get as much practice in this month before doing my defense,” You untangle your limbs from his and haul yourself to your feet, his body already mourning the absence of your heat. He watches you make your way to the bedroom to change, the door still open as you strip your shirt off.
His gaze admires you as you do, shifting to sitting up, his chin leaning against the back of the couch, “When is your defense again?”
“It’s in three weeks,” you sigh, as you tug a shirt over your head, “I’m so nervous, I have to start practicing now or I’ll drive myself insane,” and you’re stripping off your shorts in exchange for some jeans, “my advisor, many of my professors, students from the department, and maybe some undergrads might attend,” you turn, as you finish changing, catching his admiring gaze with a slight smirk, “and unlike you, they won’t just be interested in staring at me,”
“I think some of them definitely will,” he smiles, and you walk over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “at least, I’ll be, if you let me,”
Your lips curl, “Oh yeah? I think I’ll be distracted if you keep giving me this puppy dog look, baby,” you kiss his nose, “might make me walk over in the middle of the defense and kiss you,”
A soft chuckle leaves his throat, “That would cause a scene, but I could also be some moral support — a friendly face,”
“More than friendly, you’re selling yourself short, Yu,” you kiss him again, and he can taste the lingering salt and butter of the popcorn you two had ate earlier during your afternoon movie turned nap time, “but I think having you there would make me more nervous, so is it okay if we just have dinner to celebrate or cheer me up after?”
His brows knit together, “You don’t want me there?” but Geto gets to be there? The unspoken feelings he can’t find in him to voice, the words lodged in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs if only to free themselves from his anxious heart to spill from his lips — but they don’t.
“I do, Yu, of course, but I think having you there will just make me more nervous, I’ll just keep looking at you instead of addressing the whole audience, and…” you bite your lip, “with Professor Geto already having to be there, I think I would spend the whole time worrying about the two of you together than about my defense,”
And his heart sinks — your ex gets to be there, but he doesn’t? At one of your most important moments? He knows logically the only reason you ask because you can’t ask Geto — but it doesn’t hurt any less. Does he always have to be the nice one? The mature one? Couldn’t he argue with you?
No, but he could ask.
“Do you think I’ll make a scene or that he’ll—“ and you’re shaking your head, your fingers cupping his cheek.
“Of course not. I know you would do nothing but support me, but still forcing you two of be in the room together,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “even if you say it’s okay, I know it’s still hard,” his lips part, but you add, “and it would be awkward for me too. And I can’t do anything about Geto, but I can ask you,”
You could always ask him. He would do anything for you — but did his feelings matter as much to you?
“Of course, I understand,” your lips curl, and you’re pulling him into a hug, you rake your fingers through his hair.
“Are you sure?” You murmur, pressing your forehead to his, “you can tell me if you’re not okay with it,”
He could tell you that he’s not — he could tell you that it’s important for him to come, for everyone to see that he was important to you, for him to see that he was important. But it wasn’t about him. This was your defense, shouldn’t you have a right to have who you want there?
Even if it wasn’t him.
“It’s fine baby, I just want to support you,” he kisses your lips, “but I’ll plan something special for after you pass your defense — because I know you will,”
You kiss him again, softer and fuller this time, as your fingers run down his cheek, “You don’t have to plan anything — I just want you, and maybe some food,” and he chuckles, as you place butterfly kisses all over his face, “I love you,”
And he knew you did — you loved him — and that was enough, right?
“I love you too,” and you’re pulling away, as you pull on your shoes and grab your bag.
“I’ll be home by eight, should I grab dinner?” and he leans back on the couch, nodding, “I’ll see you when I get home okay?”
And he was the one you always came home to — the one you wanted to come home to — and that was enough.
“See you soon, baby.”
For now.
You enter the lecture hall, the door closing behind you with a click that rings in the silence.
Of course.
Of course you ended up with the lecture hall you had with Suguru’s class. You round the podium at the bottom, and give a terse chuckle, how had it been so long but so little time? How many days had you watched him lecture here — only to end up falling for him after? Even despite how much you hated him — it was so easy.
And still so hard.
You set up your phone to record yourself, if only so you could fine tune your presentation, and see any spots that you struggle. You prop it up, making sure it’s framed correctly on the desk directly in front of you. You run through your presentation once, noting spots for improvements or thoughts for potential questions people could pose during your defense.
You flipped through a few pages of your notes — wondering how this semester had flown by.
The rest of your thesis was completed over email — brief email exchanges and your thoughts exchanged through notes scrawled on the pages he scanned to you. It was better this way — you didn’t have to see him. You didn’t have to see the smile on his lips that you didn’t put there, a stray lipstick mark on his collar that you didn’t stain, or the happiness in his voice that you didn’t cause.
No, you didn’t need to see that.
But you didn’t know why.
Why did the idea of him moving on irk you when you had already moved on? You weren’t vindictive — your fingers drumming against the podium — you wanted him to be happy, to find someone who made him happy — maybe in all the ways you couldn’t. But the stubborn thought remained — the same one that kept you up crying every night after he broke your heart and haunted you even in your happiest of nights — that he could have had it all with you — but he didn’t. And now here you both were, fake smiles plastered in front of each other whenever your paths crossed, as if those lips hadn’t murmured ‘I love you’ before in the quiet of the night.
But why did it matter? You were happy with Yuta, you had moved on, and yet — when you saw Suguru with her, it felt as if the stitches holding your heart together had come undone, and you were back — right where you started.
But it didn’t matter. Either way the thesis was complete, and now all that was left in front of you was the defense, then you would be done — with this project, with your degree, and with Suguru.
But would you ever be done with him?
There was a knock at the door, and you turn only to find Suguru leaning against the frame, “Sorry to interrupt,”
Apparently you would never be.
Your shock lasts a moment, before your eyes flicker back to your stack of papers, “Do you need something?” The question comes more bitingly than you intended, but you don’t bother to gauge his reaction, focusing on mindlessly rifling through your presentation.
“I forgot my notes for tomorrow’s class,” he says, quiet steps ringing in the silence of the lecture hall, “didn’t mean to interrupt,” and you’re gathering your notes, catching a glimpse before you step back from the podium, “are you practicing for your defense?”
“I am,” your answer is as terse as your emails, eyes fixed anywhere but where Suguru stood, as he pulled his file from one of the shelves inside the podium.
“Do you need any help?” He asks, and you almost want to ask: ‘haven’t you helped me enough?’ But you don’t, only shaking your head in reply. The silence drags on for far too long, “can we talk?”
Your muscles tense, a bow drawn taut for an argument, but you would draw blood first, “What is there to talk about, Professor—“
His calm facade cracks, irritation seeping in like poison through the fractures,“You don’t need to call me that—“
“I do,” you cut him off, “because that’s what you are. My professor. Nothing more,” and it’s a line in the sand you’ve drawn since you’ve met again, one he hasn’t dared to toe, much less cross, until now.
His voice is broken, “We were so much more,” yes, you both were. He was everything to you as you were to him — but that was before. And this was now.
“Operative words are key, Professor — ‘were’ is past tense,”
“But we’re here now, aren’t we? How long are we going to avoid discussing this?”
You scoff, “am I the one who avoided it? Do I have to discuss it now on your terms — when you didn’t even give me a chance to make my own decisions before?” Your fingers curl into fists, “you broke me, you broke me and now you come back wanting to talk as if you didn’t do the breaking to begin with? You don’t get to come back when I’m fixed,” the bottled emotions burst at the seams of its lid, the contents more vile than when they were placed inside, resentment fermented into rage.
“I know,” he says softly, “I’m not trying to come back, not if that’s what you don’t want. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the best for you—“
“Because you know better than I do?” You give a bitter chuckle, “do you know infantilizing it is to have someone make your decisions for you? I know what I wanted, Suguru, and I would have chosen you, every time—“
“That was the problem,” he cuts you off, “I wanted you to choose yourself,”
“Do you not understand that choosing you is choosing myself too? Because it would have been a choice for me, for us, for us to be happy,”
And those words seem to sink in the silence, his eyes averting from yours, a hand scrubbing down his face.
“You’re right,” he finally says, “I’m sorry,” his words are quiet, but heavy — a rock sinking slightly into near still waters, “I wanted you to have everything, but I didn’t take into consideration what that meant to you,” he says, “I suppose I didn’t consider what I owe you,” he adds, and you shake your head, a small smile on your lips.
“Shut up,” a chuckle leaves your lips despite yourself, cooling the white hot anger to warm wistfulness, “I wish it could have worked out,” and he nods, a small frown on his lips.
“Me too,”
“But maybe it was for the best,” and his eyes find yours, as you step back to the podium to place your papers down, “it was never going to work between us. It was already too complicated to begin with, and when we finally got together, there was a time limit,” you find his gaze again, unreadable, “maybe it was for the best we moved on,” he doesn’t reply, “I should get back to work,”
He nods, as he turns to leave, casting a glance back over his shoulder, “Let me know if you need help with anything. Practice or otherwise, has the final formatting of your thesis been approved?”
“It hasn’t yet, but I believe I followed the guidelines correctly, so there shouldn’t be an issue,” you say, and he nods, as the door clicks open, as he turns the handle, “thank you again, for everything,” and there’s far too much that can encompass everything that he did even in that word, but you meant it all the same. Everything he did had led you to this moment, and you would never be ungrateful for the impact he had.
“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, anytime,” his eyes find yours, lips curled in a wanting smile that wishes to say more, “even when I actually do move on.”
And he’s gone in a moment, the door shutting behind him, as your gaze is fixed on the place he just stood — lips parted.
What?
“Professor,” you stop him, fingers reaching for him, even as you promised you wouldn’t — wouldn’t put yourself here again, wouldn’t find yourself falling into his grasp again, but here you were again — you never learned your lesson. But you wondered if that made you a bad student or him a bad professor, “what do you mean?”
He’s turning only for your hand to grasp onto the sleeve of his jacket, your name leaving his lips but you cut him off.
The question wavers on your lips, “Are you not with—“
“No, I’m not. She’s just a friend, like I said,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I know it’s ironic for me to be the one to break up with you, and not have moved on, but, I haven’t,” his fingers brush against your own holding his jacket, before slowly intertwining, “I don’t know if I ever will,”
“Well, some philosophers believe in endurantism — the past is dead, and we live here and now — we can’t do anything about what happened then — we’re whole right now, and not defined by what happened then, or what happens in the future,” your fingers squeeze his, “if we let this go, we could just exist now — the past erased and the future unclear — but we’re no less whole, are we?” your fingers slowly let go of his — but his don’t. He only clings to your fingers still, stubbornly laced.
“Perhaps you aren’t,” and he’s gently tugging you closer, you don’t find yourself resisting, but instead leaning into his touch, “but I always find myself clinging to my past — when you’re contained within it,” he lifts your hand to his lips, “what future do I have without you?” He presses a soft kiss that steals your logic, “and what present is worth being in that I don’t get to spend at your side?”
“Suguru—“ and he sighs, as draws closer to you, breath warming your lips.
“Been so long since I’ve heard you say my name,” his lips ghost your jaw, barely not brushing against it, “my name doesn’t sound the same unless it’s leaving your lips,”
“We shouldn’t,” but even so, the back of his hand lightly drags against your why shouldn’t you? Not when it felt so good, not when it felt this right, and your lips graze his, “Suguru,” you’re murmuring, the faint lingering taste of coffee on his lips, “fuck—“
RING. RING. RING.
Your eyes flutter open to find yourself in bed alone, your hand reaching beside you only to find more of your blanket and more pillows beside you, as it dawns on you.
A dream. Of course. A sigh stuck in your throat — no, you had watched him leave that night without another word, even though you had so many to say, but none at all. And even now, you didn’t know what to say — to Suguru, to yourself, or to Yuta.
So you said nothing. And instead, you’re left with an aching in your chest as you grab your phone to find a text from Yuta—
Had to go in early today— I’ll see you for dinner, baby
You lock your screen and place your phone on the nightstand, before turning back around to bury yourself in bed — as if staying in bed would bury your feelings along with yourself—
Because that’s not whose text you wanted to see.
“You’re home,” Yuta says when he walks through the door to find you lying on the couch and scrolling on your phone.
“No ‘hi you’re home?’” And Yuta snorts, as he strips off his clothes, and walks in to place a kiss on your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drawing a giggle from your lips, “I missed you too,”
“I thought you were going to practice today. Your defense is the day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d get to see you out of a classroom until tomorrow evening when it was done,” you run your fingers through his dark locks, “thought I’d have to pry you away from your notecards,”
“Ha, ha,” you kiss his cheek, brushing your nose against it, “I thought it would be good to take a break tomorrow, and I’m just exhausted after all the practice I did tonight,” you sigh, and he’s on the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your middle, “this seems like a much better use of my time,” you settle into his arms, “how was your day?”
Yuta shrugs, kissing your shoulder, “Better now,” and you chuckle, rumbling against his skin, sending a shiver up his spine as you lean over, his cheeks a pretty flush that only makes your lips curl, “it’s been too long since we got time like this. I don’t even know where to start,” he nuzzled the side of your face.
You turn your head to kiss him fully, lips sliding against his, voice a quiet murmur, “then let’s make our time count,” your sweet kiss grows deeper, your tongue at the seam of his lips that he parts for you. You swallow his moan with a smirk on your lips, your body moving against his slowly, his tenting erection catching on your clit through the far too thin material of your shorts.
“Fuck,” you murmur, as you slowly begin to grind on his bulge, the delicious friction too much for him as well, head lolling back against the couch, “Yu, s’good,”
“Mm,” Yuta parts from your lips, panting as your lips press eager kisses down his neck, a desperation he hadn’t sensed before from you, “baby, slow down,” and you almost don’t seem to hear him, as your fingers find their way between your bodies to touch him through his joggers, “ngh, you don’t need to—“
But you seemingly do, as your thumb flicks against the tip, a soft hiss escapes his lips, “like that, pretty boy?” You’re murmuring in his ear, “gonna make you feel so good, because you’re s’good f’me,”
And you’re slipping his joggers and boxers down to free his cock, stroking him from base to tip, lovely beads of precum dripping down his length and your knuckles.
“Fuck,” he’s covering his face with his hand, his fingers grasping at your hips, before eager fingers slide between your thighs and underneath your underwear, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “wanna make you feel good too, baby,” as his fingers circle your dripping entrance teasingly, a smirk on his lips, as he sinks one then two fingers in knuckle deep—
“Yu—“ your hand stills for a moment as his fingers work their way against your drenched insides, “fuck—“ and you’re melting into his arms — and maybe this was just what you both needed.
“This was so nice,” you mumble against his chest later, pressing soft kisses against his skin as the two of you laid entangled in the afterglow, “it’s been too long,”
He hums, “It was perfect,” his fingers skim down your cheek, “you know we could have this every day,” and you chuckle, the corner of your lips curled mischievously.
“Do you have the stamina for that?” you tease, painting a heated flush across his cheeks, as he rolls his eyes.
“I mean, we could go to sleep like this every night, and wake up together every morning if we moved in together,” and you blink at him, his nervousness overcoming him as he begins to backpedal, “w-we don’t have to! I just thought I’m ready for the next step with you. And I want to—“
You cut him off with a soft kiss, pausing his worries and anxiety in the syrupy sweetness of your kiss, before you pull away, “I think I need some time to think about it,”
And he nods, “take all the time you need, baby,” pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a thought still niggles into the forefront of his mind that he can’t help but dwell on—
Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?
It always seemed that you were ready when it came to him. Ready to be with him, no matter what the consequence, willing to make it work — but with him, it felt as if he was always the one chasing, and you were reluctantly within his grasp.
As you drew closer into his arms as the two of you settled down to sleep, his fingers running softly through your hair, he wondered how long it would be until he felt as if he wasn’t the one desperately holding onto you, even as you seemingly always slipped away.
Even as he held you against his chest, heartbeat under where your head laid. He knew you were the one who had his heart.
He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was always like this. No matter how well prepared you felt, something always managed to go wrong at the last minute. It was always when you were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have a rude awakening—
And this time it came in the form of an email rejecting your thesis formatting as incorrect. An email that came in that morning, but you had slept through, choosing to sleep in past noon after last night. And when your eyes fluttered open, Yuta was gone already for the day, you rolled over to check your email when you saw it.
Fuck.
You barely had time to text Yuta what had happened before rushing to the library to seek possible help from the librarians — fuck, you would have paid every overdue library charge if necessary. You didn’t want to wait another semester to present again. It would be more time wasted, more time spent working towards something you’re already for, more time spent in this place that you didn’t want to linger in any longer.
How had you managed to fuck it up so bad? Now every one of your citations and in text citations would need to be redone, along with reformatting by 5:00 PM today. And it was already 2:00 PM.
But maybe you were going to have to, as you rushed to pull the library door open, only to find it was closed this weekend due to scheduled maintenance.
Double fuck.
Your eyes burned with tears that you didn’t want to shed right now. You had no time to cry. You had no time to panic. But it was all you wanted to do — just crawl into bed and cry.
You were turning back around to leave, when you nearly ran into—
He steadies you, his fingers brushing your shoulders, as his lips part to greet you, but his brow furrows when he sees your expression, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
And that wasn’t the right question to ask.
Tears slip from your eyes before words can, as Suguru blinks, concern flooding his face, as his hand finds yours and he takes you to his office nearby. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down (several tissues later) and you finally explained to him what happened.
His hand never leaves yours.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste another semester here, I can’t do that. I want to graduate—“
“Listen, slow down for a second, ok?” His voice is soft, soothing your anxiety like a balm, even as your nerves flare as your eyes flicker to the time again, “There’s time to fix this and go get it resubmitted before 5:00 PM. But, even if you do have to do another semester, what’s so bad about that?”
You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, “I can’t waste time like that. I already said I was graduating. If I have to stay another semester,” more tears trail down your cheeks, your nails digging into your knees, “how could I face anyone after how hard I worked?”
Suguru whispers your name, his fingers brushing against your cheek, “what’s another semester? Nothing will change. No one will view you any differently. But the more important thing is how you view yourself — and you know how hard you worked. You’ll be fine,”
You’re wiping your tears, sniffling, unable to meet his gaze, “How do you have so much faith in me?”
He gives a brief chuckle, “It’s you — how could I not?” And your eyes finally lift to meet his, as his thumb rubs lightly back and forth across your cheek, before he clears his throat, “we have time to get it resubmitted,”
“‘We?’” and he stands up to grab a copy of your thesis and the error notes you had shown him.
“Well I can’t have you do it, otherwise you’ll end up submitting it late,” and you huff, a watery chuckle leaving your throat, “come on.”
“Suguru?” You call softly, as he turns, blinking at the sound of his name, “thank you.”
“Of course.” and he smiles that damnable smile that made you fall for him — your heart squeezing and thudding against its bony cage, an aching that left you longing — a glance at your phone with Yuta’s notification that sent that longing sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach.
No. It wasn’t that.
It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.
“I’m sorry,”
It had been quiet for sometime as the two of you made edits — him on the actual physical copy, while you edited the digital. The quiet scrape of his pen against paper and the clack of your keys are the only sound in his office. The very same one that the two of you had built your relationship from, and now here you were again. Except there was no banter, no smiles shared, nor even a knowing glance exchanged.
There was only silence.
Until you spoke first.
It was a silence you weren’t accustomed to — a layer of awkwardness that had settled between the two of you as if to bandage the honesty that had shredded the false student-professor only relationship you had superimposed on top of the two of you.
Only for you to claw your way out — and claw him open as well.
But no bandage can seal a gaping wound for long, and there was only one way to deal with a bandage effectively, by ripping it off.
His eyes draw up slowly from the pages in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose so precariously that you wanted to push them back, “You have nothing to be sorry for — and you know it’s better to thank than apologize — I’m always here to help,”
But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.
“I meant for the other day,” you say softly, guilt was crawling at your throat.
His gaze grows heavy, “There’s nothing to apologize for that either. You were right,” he adds, “I made decisions for us, when it should have been a discussion — especially when I said it was for you—“
“I wasn’t sorry I said it,” you gently cut him off, fingers knitted together in your lap, “but I’m sorry for where and how I said it. It wasn’t the time or place for that.”
“It’s really ok,” he tells you, a glance at his face telling you that it really was, “I would have yelled at myself far sooner, and nothing you said wasn’t true,” his hand tugs at his tie, loosening it, his fingers wrapped around the fabric, “I wish I did it differently,”
You shouldn’t ask the question but it falls from your lips before you can stop it, “What would you have done differently?”
And he gives a smile worthy of melancholy’s grasp, “I would have kept my promise to you,” and you know which one he means without him needing to say, “I would never have left you, if I hadn’t been too busy being a happiness pump,” and those words stir warm coals in a fire you thought was long put out — but somehow burns still, a flicker of a promise for a spark.
One you couldn’t stoke.
“Well, you make an excellent one,” and he scoffs, “no really, I’ve never seen someone so unhappy trying to make someone else happy before,”
“I wouldn’t say, ‘so unhappy—’” his pout is far too cute for your own good.
“Can really tell your life fell apart without me,” you say completely teasingly, as your lips curl, only to find his eyes on you still, “what?”
He only shakes his head, “only regretting not giving you lower than a 99 on your final paper,” and you gape at him as he bites back a chuckle, “I am the department head, maybe I could—“
“You mess with my grades—“ and your phone goes off — it’s Yuta. A text asking if everything was ok, before his face lights up your phone screen, and you’re not quick enough to avoid the awkward moment where Suguru sees it, “sorry I—“
“Go take it. I have plenty to get through,”
“But—“ but he’s already back to reviewing your citations as if nothing had happened as you pick up the call, screech of your chair as you get up to take the call, “hey, yeah I can talk—“ and the door is closing behind you as you step outside.
You don’t see the way he leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face to rest at his lips, “What am I doing?”
And he really didn’t know — as always, when it came to you.
“You’ll do amazing,” Yuta pressed another kiss to your lips, as you did the final adjustments to your outfit for the defense, “I can’t wait to celebrate with you,”
“I know, I can’t wait for it to be over,” you sigh, pulling him into your arms, your chin perched on his shoulder, “you still haven’t told me what we’re doing,”
He chuckles, his fingers cupping your cheek, “I told you it’s a surprise, so telling you would defeat the purpose,” you turn away to look at yourself again, “you look perfect,”
“You’re just saying that because you’re too nice,” you grumble and he laughs, as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I’m sorry about not having you there,”
And he feels a twinge in his chest, he had spent the last few days not trying to think about that. It wasn’t important that he was there — it was important that you’d be coming home to him. That’s what mattered — or that’s what he kept telling himself.
“It’s okay,” he intertwined his fingers with yours, and squeezed your hand, “I’ll be here after, waiting for your good news. Because I know it will be,” and his arms pulled you against him, and he can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t want to let go.
Even if you were ready to go.
You barely remembered what you said.
You remembered how your stomach turned and twisted in knots you didn’t know were physically possible as you made your way to the building where your defense was being held. Your fingers kept twiddling with your phone, checking the location and date listed in your email a million times to ensure you hadn’t missed your defense already or that you didn’t imagine your citations were accepted. You were sure your clothes would wrinkle from the sheer anxiety cladding through your veins, the vibration of nerves enough to beat creases into your freshly pressed clothes.
And you remembered seeing Suguru right when you walked in. He stood behind the table with the other members of the committee, chatting — and objectively, you hated how unfairly pretty he was. His long, inky hair tucked into a neat bun today, choosing to wear a crisp white button down, opting for no tie, but a off white sweater vest and black suit jacket over his shoulders, and lips curled in a small smile that only grows warmer when he catches sight of you from the corner of his eye. And it must be nerves, the way your heart flutters within your chest and the way that heat clings to your cheeks — nothing more.
Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.
You remembered how people filled into the classroom that you were defending your thesis in, as you shuffled around the front, setting up your presentation and notes for talking points. You spotted Maki, Panda, and Inumaki walk in, undoubtedly Yuta’s doing, along with a few of your other friends from the program. Your hands shook ever so slightly, even as you wrung them — a nervous habit you had picked up before large presentations or important milestones.
And then as people took their seats and it was 4:00 PM, it was time for your defense. You took a breath for a second — and your gaze finds not your friends, but Suguru’s. He offers you a smile, a look that tells you that he believes in you — always more than you ever had.
So you begin.
You don’t remember what you said — but you remember speaking as you did a million times before in practice. You remember making an adlib or two that draws a few chuckles from your audience. But what you mostly remember is the few glances you stole from Suguru who listened intently, a mouthed encouragement when you took a pause.
And soon you were answering questions after concluding the main part of your presentation. You are fielding them from professors and students alike, until there was only time left for one more. There was silence for several moments — it felt like hours, the committee conferring and speaking amongst themselves.
“I think I can take one last question,” and your eyes darted over the group, finding no hands, until one slowly went up — one you were familiar with, “Professor Geto?”
Of course he would have a question — no less, the last one.
“I just had one comment about your thesis, not a question,” and with how he had poked and prodded at the fire of your work from the moment you met him — the way he pushed you head first into the flames, if only to temper the best version of your work, and of yourself. And even though you had burned yourself one too many times, you couldn’t help but reach for it again and again, “after conferring with the committee, congratulations, you passed your defense.”
The audience claps and congratulates you, a sea of shaking hands and kind words while you recover from the defense. But as the crowd disperses, you find Suguru walking towards you.
A silence settles over the two of you for a moment — a want to speak lingering between you two, but no words said. Why was it always when you had so much to say you found none of the thoughts you wanted to express? There wasn’t enough time — but they would never be.
But he breaks it first.
“Congratulations on your defense. You did wonderfully,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, as you bite your lip, cheeks burning.
“No remark about me being on time? Or any little criticisms? I’m shocked. You’ve lost your edge, Professor,” he chuckles, shaking his head.
“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he replies, his hand slipping out from his pocket only to be placed gently on your shoulder, “but right now, I just want you to know I’m proud of your determination and grit, but mostly, I’m proud of you,”
His name almost slips from your lips as your mouth opens and closes, words stuck in your throat, “Thank you. It means so much,” especially from you. But you can’t say that, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,”
“You don’t owe me anything,” and you chuckle, gaze finding his own, just as it always did.
“Don’t I? I think I owe you a drink, I never did buy you one after all — purely for networking purposes,” you add, “and a thank you for saving my ass on these citations,”
And he’s shaking his head, “All I did is what you what have done for anyone else,”
“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.
“For a student? Maybe. For you? Always,” and you bite your lip, gaze falling, “what is it?
“Why?” ‘Why for me?’ was the question you wanted to ask but you couldn’t push the words past your lips even as they rested on your tongue.
But he knew the words.
“You know the reasons,” he says softly, “I know you have nothing but amazing things ahead, and I’d do anything to see you reach your goals,”
And he would. He did.
“I can agree with that,” a hand clasps your shoulder, Yaga gives a small smile, “good job,”
“Professor Yaga, oh my god,” you grin, resisting the urge to hug him, “how are you? Are you feeling better?”
“I’m well enough. Treatment has been honestly shit, but my son is doing a good enough job looking after me,” Yaga rubs the back of his head, “that and balancing classes hasn’t been easy for the kid.”
“Your son goes here?” Professor Yaga points at a familiar cluster of three, “Panda?” You didn’t really see a family resemblance but you supposed you didn’t have to.
He nods, “but I’m not here to talk about him,” he holds his hand out to you, “I’m very proud of you. I know you have a bright future ahead. I apologize I couldn’t help—“
“You did too much. Thank you Professor Yaga,” and then others are calling for you, “if you both will excuse me,”
“Of course, I need to speak to Suguru so it’s just as well,” and your attention is pulled, but the corner of your eye still watches him, watches him leave the leave — leaving you behind here. Just as it should be, your gaze sliding back, as your fingers rested against your chest.
So why did it hurt so much?
Yuta was late — it seems he always was, when it came to you.
Even so, this time it was somewhat purposely, but he still had tried to be on time. He wanted to at least hear the very end of your defense, if not in sight, then outside the classroom. But he had run late, trying to straighten out reservations he made at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for months. He had finally convinced them to bring out a cake as if to celebrate your birthday, but for your thesis. It was silly, as Yuta half walked half sprinted to the room of your defense, only to find it was over.
The doors to the lecture hall had been opened after your defense finished, some people filing out, while others lingered to speak to you or others. Yuta held the bouquet of flowers behind him, scanning the group for you — and his eyes fell on you — with Geto.
You were both off to the side, speaking alone, his hand clasped on your shoulder, before slipping off. And it was clear from the way he looked at you — that he felt the same for you as he always did. And you—
You looked the same, as you always did, when it came to Geto.
Yuta’s fingers squeeze at the base of the flowers, plastic crinkling under his grasp. He hadn’t asked why you had stopped meeting with him for your thesis — almost a relief to have your correspondence all over email, and not to face dealing with the weekly meetings. He hadn’t asked, but he could assume some sort of argument happened, a discussion, a confession maybe — something you hadn’t broached with him. And a part of him really didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to have the boat rocked on him — but—
As he watched you become pulled away when another professor joined your conversation, and Geto was pulled away out of the room by that same professor — Yuta saw your eyes follow Geto’s back. The two walk past Yuta without notice, engrossed in their conversation, and Yuta catches a few snippets of it before they’re out the door.
And he turned back to you — he knew he may have to be the one to rock it. Because the ship had already begun taking in water — and it was either he grasped onto the side with white knuckles and went down with it, or he let it go, letting it fall into the wreckage. He glanced away from you, starting to walk off towards the exit — because maybe this ship wasn’t made to sail, but to sink.
And he couldn’t let himself drown — even for you.
You checked your phone again as you left — no phone calls, not even a text back. You bit your lip as you made your way back to the apartment. You had already called him three times, but your anxiety was getting the better of you. He had told you he would meet you after the defense, but there wasn’t any sign of him.
You opened the door to your place, keys jingling as head inside to find him sitting on the couch. You put your things down, as you head to the living room.
“Yu? Are you okay? You weren’t picking up—“ and you see a bag of his things packed, “Yuta?”
“Sorry I made you worry, baby, I just thought,” he sighs, unable to meet your gaze as he looks in front of him, “I thought I could wait, but I can’t,”
“Yuta, what? What’s—“
Your name leaves his lips, cutting you off gently, as he finally looks at you, gaze heavy, “we need to break up.”
You don’t have words.
No, you have one word.
“Why?” You ask, as you take steps forward to sit beside him, as your mind struggles to keep up — your certificate still in your hand, the excitement of being done all but extinguished.
“I’m sorry, but don’t you know why?” He asks softly, and your eyebrows knit together, shaking your head,
“What are you talking about?” And you’re wringing your hands, fingers nearly in knots, a sigh parting your lips as you try to soothe yourself, “Yuta, I know I’ve been busy this semester with my thesis, but it’s done with. And we can go back to—“
“We can’t,” and it was so final — so definitive — and without a way for you to have a choice. Yet again. Were you doomed to repeat this cycle? Again and again. With no change in the outcome. And you don’t know what to say, as you scrub a hand down your face.
“Okay then,” and your name slips from his lips, as you cross your arms.
“You don’t understand—“ and your chuckle is so bitter.
“How can I when you haven’t explained? All you’ve said are cryptic things that I’m supposed to piece together what? What am I supposed to know?” Tears slip down your cheek, forcing your voice to stay steady, the stress of the last few months crashing down around you just as your relationship did, “I know that I haven’t been the best girlfriend. And I’m sorry. I really am,” your voice breaks, “But I tried. I tried to communicate. I tried to spend time with you, even when I didn’t have a minute to myself. You knew I’d be busy. You knew that going in and still—“
His voice is gentle, so gentle that it infuriates you — gentle even when he’s hurting you, “It’s not that—“
“Then what is it?” You snap — you were tired of running in circles — you needed an answer, a tangible reason why.
“Geto,” you blink, as the confession settles over his face, “it wasn’t your schedule. It was who you spent it with,” and you’re staring for a moment, expression crumbling under the weight of the truth.
“Yuta, Yu, no—“ you step towards him, but he only sighs, running a hand through his hair, “it was only for my thesis. Nothing happened between us. I promise,”
“I trust you when you say nothing happened,” but his eyes lift to meet yours, “and in a way nothing has happened, because you still love him,”
“yuta—“
“I know you love me, in some way,” the words leave his lips slowly, cutting you each syllable, but you can’t imagine how deeply and how long he’s been cut by these thoughts already, “but not like you love him—“
“That’s not—“
“You know before we started dating, I talked to Maki about how I feel, and I told her I was afraid that you would never look at me the way you look at him,” and the mended pieces of your heart break apart with new cracks with the way his voice wavers, “but all this time, and still, you haven’t. Even today, when I waited outside of the lecture hall, I saw you both together — and I know,” he breaks off, biting his lip, “I know it was him congratulating you, but the way you looked at him hadn’t changed—“
You’re shaking your head, “Yuta, no, no, it’s just a look. I don’t even know how I look at him, but it doesn’t—“
“I do know how you look. It hasn’t changed,” he’s swallowing, his eyes fall to the floor, “and it’s not just that. Do you see a future with me?”
“Of course—“
“When I brought up moving in, you said you’d think about it, but have you?” you open and close your mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of your clothes, “have you thought about what happens after you graduate? Or what’s next for us?” your silence is answer enough — sinking in for you, as it already did for him — slipping in between your ribs like a well placed dagger — and it had stabbed him all the same too, “you love me, but I don’t think you’re in love with me,”
“Yuta, I do, I do love you—“ and he draws close to you, fingers cupping your cheek.
“But the world doesn’t stop for you when I come near? It doesn’t feel as if I steal your breath when I hold you like this? Does it feel as if you don’t wish to spend a moment without me?”
“Love doesn’t always have to—“
“But it does — to some extent,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you imagined your future with him didn’t you? Didn’t even want to spend a moment apart?” And he gives a terse chuckle, “we have to break up,”
You don’t want it to be true. You want to fight him, argue, convince him he’s wrong, that the explanation he’s pieced before you is falsified — a distorted version of how you felt conflated by misunderstandings.
But you can’t.
“Yuta, I—“ and he shakes his head, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ your eyes burn with tears, “I’m sorry,”
He smiles softly, pulling you into his arms, “I knew we had rushed in, but I didn’t want to wait, because I thought I’d lose my chance,”
“Yu—“ he kisses your cheek, “I do love you, I do,” and he nods, lips curling sadly, before he pulls you into another hug.
“I know. I love you too.”
But it wasn’t enough — and it wasn’t right.
Not for either of you.
You don’t know how much time you spent in bed after that. The semester had closed out, and you had curled up under your sheets — seemingly a new tradition you had of ending a semester with a break up. You wondered if graduating would end it — and if it didn’t, you might have to reconsider going for your Ph.D. — if only to avoid this pain again.
You stick your head up out of your blanket, glancing at the light pooling in from the window — because time went on no matter how you felt, and the sun rose each day, despite it all.
Yuta had grabbed his things and left a while after. You still could feel the brush of his fingers against your skin as he squeezed your hand one last time.
“You’re still my best friend,” you had told him, forcing your voice to stay even, and he chuckles, a smile on his lips.
“You’re still mine too.”
But even so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days — but you couldn’t blame him. You could only blame yourself. It had become so exceedingly clear that he was right. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it. The anger still lingered, but anger was only the remnants of your love for him that still stubbornly clung to life, despite your efforts to move on.
But moving on wasn’t as simple as finding feelings for someone else — not when you were only ever truly in love with one person.
You were still in love with Suguru.
Despite it all — you hadn’t gotten over him, and you weren’t sure you ever would. If months weren’t enough, would years be? Would you ever get rid of the feelings you had for him, wrapped around your limbs, and had snuck into the crevices of your heart. An invasive species that perhaps you would never eradicate.
But you couldn’t go back now. Not after everything that happened. Not
Your phone goes off, lighting up on your bedside table before beginning to ring, your fingers slipping from inside your cocoon of blankets. You grab your phone — Professor Yaga?
“Hello?”
He greets you with your name, “I hope you’re doing well — I just wanted to reach out to congratulate you again on your successful defense,” you smile, sitting up as you do. The two of you make small talk as he discusses his recovery, reporting that he’s doing well.
“Thank you so much Professor Yaga, for everything, really,” and he chuckles.
“Thank you for being so understanding of my situation — it was difficult, but I’m glad Suguru stepped for in me so well, and I’m sure he’ll do well in Kyoto—“
“He’s going back?” the question spills from your lips before you can even hold your tongue, “I didn’t know you were—“
“I’m not returning yet, but even if I do, I don’t think I will be returning as a department head. So I gave Suguru the choice to stay department head here or move to Kyoto,” and he adds, “I did give him the choice to stay here or move back to Kyoto,”
And your throat is dry, “Oh I see. That’s good for him,” a silence settles over the call for a moment, before Yaga speaks.
“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Yaga says, and he’s staying for graduation so if you’d like to thank him in person since I interrupted your conversation, II know on good authority that he’s in his office right now,” and he adds, “it’s not too late if someone were to speak to him now,”
You blink, “Professor Yaga—“
“You’re all but graduated so I’m allowed to say this — I wish you both the best. But I know Suguru has never been happier than when he was with you,” you bite your lip, “so for both of your sakes, you should go talk to him,”
“Thank you, Professor, for everything.” And you hang up without much to do, grabbing your bag and keys before heading out the door.
He was right, fingers squeezing around your phone — it’s what you owed him — and yourself.
Suguru sat back in his office, finally done with his papers for his philosophy class. The sun had long fled the sky, along with most staff and students. The end of the semester had come quick, and with it came a quiet and deserted campus with nothing but his grade book and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in his office to keep him company.
Not that he was craving company.
He loosened his tie, unbuttoning a button or two on his shirt and on his cuffs, and then rolled his sleeves up. He was insane for still insisting on teaching a class amongst the insanity, though he did have another professor step in to co-teach the course. He didn’t know why he had stuck to that sticking point when it was illogical — but, as he gazed down at the stack of final papers strewn in front of him doused in his red ink, he knew it wasn’t a logical reason.
He was rifling through the graded stack, adding the scores to his grade book. This semester has been a mixed bag, a mix of grades — from high to low. Some of the papers were insightful, others were clear that they had only taken this class as a course to blow off. But even of all the high graded essays, not one of the papers compared to yours.
But of course, no one compares to you, and that’s why he needed to leave. He knew that. He wanted you to be happy — even if that didn’t include him. And after this semester, it couldn’t. Being around you was an exercise of torture — Tantalus who had been starving for decades to get a taste of food, only to be hungrier after that morsel. A bite of the apple only makes you want to devour it, core and all.
It was just as Aristotle had said — desire was made of both rational and irrational, and his longing for you is rooted in the rational — because yes, perhaps his body craved you irrationally and carnally, but that was far overshadowed by the need for you after experiencing you for himself. This self made inducement would be the death of him, and Aristotle himself would call him a fool.
But he didn’t need him to — because he was. A fool and a coward, just as you said. He sets down his pen, leaning against his hand, as he looks over at the blank reply email to Yaga with his cursor blinking. It would be for the best if he left for Kyoto again. So you didn’t have to see him again.
And then there was a knock at his office door. He paused, eyes flicking up only to hear your voice through the door, “It’s me,”
He hates the way his breath catches at the sound of you, heart picking up as his eyes flicker to the somewhat late hour and back. No words on his lips except the one thing he can say.
“Come in,”
And you do — you always liked to tease him that he was the one who was unfair when it came to how he looked, but to him, it was you that was unfair. Your hair askew, chest rising and falling quick, clothes a little disheveled and yet, you were always the most gorgeous person he’d met in his life.
You shift in the entryway of the door, squirming seemingly under his gaze, “Is this a bad time?”
Time never was in either of your favor, not ones that she found beguiling, except in a way meant to deceive. But time and time again, he allowed himself to be tricked — if only for a moment with you.
“No, not at all. I just wrapped up grading the final papers,” and you give a soft chuckle, as you close the door behind you, before taking careful steps forward, eyes finding the stack nearly bleeding from his careful cuts and slashes.
“How many red pens did you use up? Fifty?”
“Oh, only forty-nine this time, trying to be more conservative with my usage,” and you scoff, more of a chuckle than a sneer, “plus, I didn’t have a student write several pages over the limit this time—“
You gape at him, and he has to bite back his smile, “It was one page, and you said I could,”
“Bullied into it was more like it,”
“Don’t know of a case where a student could bully a professor into anything,”
“They clearly haven’t had you in their classroom,” and then he adds, a soft smile on his lips, “but I suppose I could see them enjoy being bullied by a student as passionate about the subject — even if my office hours suffered for it,”
“You loved those office hours,” and he wants to say, yes, when you were there — but he can’t. He told himself he wouldn’t cross that line, “and I did too,” you add, and his eyes find yours — but maybe you would cross it instead, “you remember what you said about not being my professor anymore?”
And he did — all those months ago at the end of the first semester you had spent in class together, and he’s nodding, mouth impossibly dry, “Well I’m as good as graduated, so you’re definitely not my professor, not anymore,”
Your name slips from his lips, brow furrowed, a question almost, as if it can’t be what your words implied, but you’re shaking your head, as you pull a folded paper from your bag, unfolding it before sliding it across his desk.
His eyes fall on it, and it’s the note he had written all those months ago — asking you for a drink, and for so much more. He had admired your determination, your wit, your beauty, your intellect, and so many other things he didn’t have space to say —
“Suguru,” and his eyes find yours, and god, why was it so easy to get lost in your heady gaze? “We had said we didn’t want to hurt each other — but I don’t think that’s something that can be avoided. You hurt me,” and he nods, lips parting ready for an apology, “but I’ll probably hurt you — and I probably have already,”
“Sweetheart—“ the pet name falls from his mouth as if it’s second nature, “I—“
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” and the corner of his eyes burn with tears — is this a dream? Because he swears, it would be the cruelest one so far, “I can’t stop loving you, and I’ve tried to—I’ve tried to move on,”
“Maybe it would be for the best,” but you’re shaking your head, as you’re slowly rounding his desk, and the truth can’t help but fall from his lips, “I don’t deserve you—“
“What did I say about making decisions about us without me?” And he sighs, resistance crumbling as you draw far too close — and he couldn’t bear not to reach out, “you have to take responsibility for your actions, don’t you?”
“Sweetheart—“
“You said you haven’t moved on — is that still true?”
His fingers reach across the chasm he had carved between the two of you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw and the swell of your cheek, just he had wanted to for all these months. And just a taste, a brush of your skin, he’d never let you go again.
“I never could — not from you,” his voice wavers, “every day I missed you — I never wanted to break up with you, I just couldn’t bear to be the reason that you ever hold yourself back from getting something you wanted,” and he gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, “who knew I was the one doing that by leaving? And I’m so sorry, I am so—”
And your forehead pressed against his, his words nearly swallowed with a sob, as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning a trail down his cheeks, that you gently thumb away before cupping his cheeks, “I want to hear something other than an apology,”
His flutter open, lips brushing against your cheek, “I love you, I always have, sweetheart. I never stopped—” his voice breaks, a crack in the dam enough to spill the truth from his lips and tears from his eyes, “and I promise I’ll never break my promises anymore — that’s a contradiction, but—“ and your fingers find purchase on his cheek, consuming the words on his lips with your touch, “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,”
Your lips curl, eyes watery as you kiss away one of his tears, “Is that a proposal?” you tease, your other hand slides back through his black locks, twisting one strand around your finger, “seems a little fast for that when you haven’t even kissed me properly yet,”
He snorts softly, clearing his throat ever so slightly, “If memory serves me, we’ve done a lot more than kiss before,” and he’s daring closer, as you lean down, your legs pressed against the lip of his desk, “nearly in this office,” and he’s slipping up from his desk, his breath stolen from his lungs by the whisper of your perfumed skin, and his logic eroded by the heat of your body against his.
“‘Nearly,’” you repeat with a soft hum, as your lips graze his jaw, “then why don’t we fix that?” your lips find his, a chaste kiss, barely a few seconds when you pull away half a centimeter, and he’s already leaning back in for another and another.
The familiar feel of your lips against yours makes him wonder how he had survived without you for so long — falling for you was as natural as breathing and kissing you was needed as oxygen. But each kiss only sends jolt over jolt up and down his body, and he wonders if he were to ever stop again, perhaps his heart would too.
Because all the time he had spent not with you was time spent living — perhaps breathing and existing. But no, he only felt alive when he was at your side — and in your arms. And especially against your lips. Delights in the way your lips part for him like muscle memory, tongue against yours — in a sloppy, desperate kiss that has every ounce of reason sucked from his mind (and likely into your mouth).
He parts if only for air, a string of spit connecting your lips, that he thumbs away, “If I recall, you had something about me not being very ethical last time we did this,” he remarks, his lips parting before kissing down your jaw, your taste an addiction to his deprived lips — a desert wanderer ready to swallow you whole, “and now here you are,” he’s leaning back, as your hand is splayed back against the wood of his desk, your chest rising and falling, lips kiss bitten red and swollen from his own, “what do you call this?” His finger is toying with the top button of your blouse.
“A student taking after her teacher,” your lips find his pulse, teeth grazing his skin as if to taunt him, to goad him to go further, but, and his fingers slip behind. your thighs and squeeze no goading was needed — he was ready to devour you.
And he’s lifting you onto his desk, papers crumpling underneath and pens flung onto the floor, and a gasp caught in your throat as he pins you against it, before tugging his tie off.
“Looks like I still have plenty to teach you.”
“Sugu, fuck,” your fingers thread through his black locks, undone from his bun hy your own hands, your nails digging into his scalp. How long have you been in this office with him now? Half an hour? Almost an hour? Time had lost all meaning to you when he had kissed his way down your body.
Burning kisses that had stolen your thoughts from your mind and left only him in its wake — how had you lived without him? Your fingers had found their way to the back of his neck, as his lips mapped the peaks and valleys of your neck and collarbone.
“Fuck,” a gasp parts your lips when his teeth teases the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting again and agin, until he’s left pretty love bites gracing your across your skin.
And that sharp tongue of his dragged over the marks left blooming on your skin, as if couldn’t simply get enough of you, and he couldn’t.
“Suguru, please—“ you’re whining already and he barely began, and the all too smug smile against the swell of your breast only told you he thought the same.
“Patience, Princess, so needy f’me, aren’t you?” But he obliged anyway, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt.
And now your blouse was nearly shrugged off, your bra undone with your pert nipples still sticky with his saliva and breasts covered in small marks from his teeth grazing your skin. And now he had tugged your skirt down and off, leaving you only in your underwear.
“You’re making such a mess on my desk, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, as his large palms slide up your plush thighs and squeeze, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, before he’s parting your thighs, “but it’s such a pretty mess when it’s you,” and you were so fucking pretty with your legs parted like this, panties translucent from your juices leaking from your dripping folds, even glossy against the wood of his desk now. And he would be sure to make a bigger mess soon enough.
“Sugu,” your cheeks burn as he stares, your embarrassment melting into a gasp when his fingers drag against your clothed slit teasingly, up and down, so meticulously again and again, until his fingers are sticky with your pre, “ngh, please—“
Your plea is enough for him to snap, as he’s tugging your underwear away and off, tucking the ruined panties into his pocket with a glint of his amethyst eyes in the low light of his office. Pretty folds in full display for him, with your swollen clit and glistening slit nearly begging for attention, and he’s more than happy to oblige.
And he’s running a finger down your lovely folds, gathering precum on his finger, far too slowly for your liking, as he takes his time to circle your clit, “All this just from a few kisses?” lust pools in his gaze with a flicker of amusement, “so sensitive just for me,” your need for him as plain as the juices that seep from your pussy, walls fluttering and aching for something more than the tip of his finger.
“Suguru, fuck, I can’t,” your toes curl when he finally pities you with a kiss to your needy cunt, nose bumping against your clit teasingly, the friction making your thighs tremble, “please—”
“Never thought I’d hear my quick witted T.A. beg for me like this, but I have dreamt of it,” you glance down at him, lips glossy with your pre, “I have to make up for time lost, time I wasted without you, princess,” and his thumb rubs at your clit, while his lips press sweet kisses to the flesh of your inner thigh, “it’s what I owe you, isn’t it?”
“I—” your sentence lost to a moan as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, tip of his tongue teasingly lingering around your entrance, and your hips buck into his touch, warm palms coming down to pin you in place against his desk.
You can barely stifle your moans, fingers flying up to press a hand over your mouth, as the tongue starts to flick and circle your clit, while a lithe finger teases your tight cunt, “I’m not one for sweets, but you may give me a sweet tooth,” and his lips close around your clit, sucking and licking, making your back arch, your arm behind you shaking as it struggled to keep your balance.
“Fuuuuck, Sugu, I—” you’re panting, head lolling back when he finally sinks a finger into your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your cunt and your barely contained moans filling up the relative silence of his office, “please—” and a second finger joins the first, a smirk on his lips as he kisses your puffy clit again, a groan when he feels the way your walls clench around his fingers, knuckle deep.
“Gonna break my fingers at this rate, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, but even so he’s adding a third finger, the stretch far too delicious as it sends stripes of heat up and down your body and right to your spasming cunt, “what are you going to do when I put my cock inside? Our refresher lesson has barely begun,” and he’s enjoying this too much, and when his arms are hooking around your thighs, carefully lying you back on his desk, your hands slipping from his hair, and instead propping himself up on his elbows.
“Sugu, wh—” and your back arches as he begins to thrust deeper into your cunt, a strangled gasp on your lips that melts into a moan as his lips close around your clit. You can barely make out the obscene noises that leave your lips, as his fingers fuck you open, before he’s sucking hard — once, twice, and then a third time— “I’m—“
You can barely find the words before you’re cumming, walls squeezing and fluttering around his fingers while he fucks you through it, lapping at your juices, his name on your lips again and again, until you finally come down from your high. He pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy, only to bury his face in between your thighs again.
“Fuuuck, Sugu—“ your moans are broken as your body arches into him, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, sucking and licking your release eagerly, seemingly hellbent on tasting every inch of you.
Pretty moans fell from your mouth, muffled as you clasped your hand over your lips, “can’t waste a drop, sweetheart,” he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt, and god, if anyone walked by his office, they would surely hear you both — hear the nasty squelch of your pussy and your barely muffled moans.
How many times did you orgasm from his tongue alone? You had lost track. Each time he would bring you over the edge with the thrust of his tongue or the suck of his lips, and he would eat you out through it, only building to the next and then the next.
“Sugu, please, I’m close, fuck—“ and you can’t even hear your own broken voice, not over the lewd sounds of his mouth sucking at your pussy, the coil tight in your stomach and ready to snap, until another hard suck makes you cum, hard.
Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching at him desperately as you squirt all over his face, drenching him along with his desk, wood sticky and soaked with your release. He’s lapping at your cunt, thighs twitching from your orgasm, until he’s finally pulling away to glance up at you with dark eyes, his chin and mouth glossy with your cum and his spit. His tongue darts out to clean both, before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand, glazed over gaze half lidded with need.
“S’good for me, Princess,” he’s pressing gentle kisses up your body, “so pliant, and yet you were so mouthy before,” and his lips kiss that mouth of yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, as he presses you further into the desk, his arm slinked around your back. And you’re pulling him just as close, hands grasping at the front of his button-up.
And then you’re pushing him back, forcing him into his chair, as you get to your feet, before sinking to your knees. His breath catches, eyes watching you — your disheveled appearance, hair half mussed, and skin shiny with sweat, “let me show you how mouthy I can be.”
“Imagine someone walked in now, see your pants down for your favorite student,” your tongue trailed up the underside of his clothed cock — and he could nearly cum looking down at you between his thighs, your kiss bitten lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, thumbing at the leaking slit, licking your lips at the sight of the large stain of his precum on his cock, “Sugu, you’re so fucking big, can’t wait to feel this inside,” and his length twitches, a grunt in the back of his throat, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin.
And god, he’s fucking pretty like this. Black locks falling in front of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones with a lovely flush settled over his features
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he’s panting, head nearly lolling back against the headrest of his chair, “gonna tease me after this long?” it’s half joking, half pleading, but you’re only clicking your tongue at him.
“You made me wait much longer, Suguru — made me cry too,” and his gaze softens, lips parted with an apology that fades into a hiss, as you free him from his boxers, erection slapping against his still clothed abs, “but now I’m going to make you cry,” you press a teasing kiss to his weeping tip, flushed red with need, letting his white pearly release paint your lips, “until you’re begging to cum,”
A strangled gasp caught in his throat, tracing the pretty veins and curves like it was made for you, “You’re so pretty, Sugu — all of this is for me?” Your fingers slowly stroking his length, his moaning music to your ears, as your other hand teasing his balls, “gonna cum down my throat already? Can’t cum this soon,” you cooed, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, and yet your fingers squeeze around his base, hips jerking into your touch.
“Princess, stop teasing—“ his protests had fallen on deaf ears, as you bring your pretty lips to his aching tip, only to trace his slit with the tip of his tongue, salty precum disappearing inside your mouth, and fuck, it’s enough for him to nearly cum there and then, “please,”
“Didn’t know you could be so polite, Sugu, when begging for your student to swallow your cock,” and finally you let his cock part past your lips, and his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue swirls around his length. It was already too much for him — so much, just as you were, your tongue tracing and teasing his dick, while your lips sucked along the base.
And you weren’t doing much better, the weight of his cock against your tongue makes your cunt ache for him, and sneaking glances at his fucked out form — muffled moans of your name as he covers his lips with the back of his arm, as his dark gaze watches you sink his cock into your mouth again. Your hand is slipping into your throbbing pussy for some relief, as you bob up and down his length.
But he doesn’t miss it, a groan at the sight of you swallowing his dick whole whole riding your own hand, “Does fucking your mouth feel that good, Princess? Feel that good that you need to touch yourself?” And you’re moaning around his length, vibrations of sending shivers up his spine and a groan of your name from his lips, “So fucking good f’me, Princess — too good for me,” he’s grunting, as you let his tip brush the back of your throat now, making pleasure rip up his body, “sweetheart, please, g’nna fuck your throat if you keep that up,”
And you ease off, letting his cock slap against your tongue as it slips out, “maybe I want you, Sugu,” you’re kissing and licking along his length, “want you to fuck my smart little mouth,”
Fuck.
You’re sliding his cock back in, his hips jerking against you as you let him sink all the way in, tip brushing against your throat again. And fuck, the wet squelch of your fingers inside you breaks him, as he starts to give an experimental thrust, a light one that has you moaning around him. He’s gauging your reaction, only for you to force his length down more, barely not blowing his load there and then, as you look up at him, a smile in your eyes as if you’re daring him.
And he can’t hold back.
He’s fucking your mouth, your tongue massaging up and down his length as he thrusts inside your warm mouth, his nails digging into your locks as he holds you flush to his body. The sight of you on your knees, taking his dick as drool and pre drip down your chin, eyes nearly rolling back with pleasure as you do, making his cock twitch in your mouth.
“That feel that good, Princess? Wanted me to fuck this mouth that bad? I should do it more often if that’s what it takes.” he’s almost drunk off the pleasure, thrusts growing a little rougher as he grows close, “fuck, I’m close, baby, where—“ and your hands are sliding around to his lower back, holding him in place as your answer, “shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me,” and you suck around him as his tip hits the back of your throat again, and that’s it—
He spills, hot cum flooding your mouth and down your throat, as you both moan in unison, large spurts devolving into smaller ones, as he comes down from his high. You don’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of it, as you finally pull away from his cock with a pop, the sight of your ruined lips with strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his dick is enough to have it twitching again.
“Sweetheart, you’re s’good to me,” he’s gently pulling you up into his lap, his fingers running through your hair. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—“ and you’re cutting him off with a soft kiss that steals the words from his mind, your eyes shiny with tears.
“You do, you do because I choose you, because I love you, and I know you’re sorry,” you cup his cheek, before lightly pinching it, “and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill you and I’ll be ethically and morally justified,” and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to your skin, before pulling back to look up at you.
“You have my permission to do that, because if I ever leave my soulmate again — it’s only the consequences of my actions,” and he kisses your forehead, before he presses his to yours, “and I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side,”
You kiss him slowly, wrapping your arms around him, slowly heat building as the head of his cock bumps against the length of your cunt — the sparks grow into flames, threatening to engulf you both. And you would let them if only for one more second of his touch.
“Sugu, please, I need you,” you murmur, breathing in his pants as your noses bump, “need you inside me,” he cups your cheek, meeting in another kiss, before you’re lining yourself up, weeping cock bumping against your needy entrance.
“Are you ready?” You ask, and it’s for more than just this moment, it’s for everything that comes after — for every second that you both get to live together, “our phones are off right?”
He snorts, “I turned it off when you entered my office,” and you laugh, shaking his head, as he places a kiss behind your ear.
“I did the same before I came in,” his fingers cup your cheek, as you lean into his warm palm, “just you and me?” You echo from your first time together, and his lips curl into the softest smile.
“You and me, sweetheart,” and you’re sinking onto him, tip parting your spread folds as your walls swallow him whole, inch by inch, and his fingers grasp at your hips, helping you ease onto his cock, pretty lips parted with a quiet murmur of your name.
And when he finally bottoms out inside you, he’s almost forgotten how good it felt — pleasure ripping up his spine as your hips are pressed flush to the other, “So deep, Sugu, fuck,” your walls are fluttering around him pulling even deeper, clamping down as if he groans, “I’m gonna move,” you manage between pants.
You lift up to the tip before slowly beginning to bounce up and down, your moans filling his ears along with the squeaks and rattling of his computer chair. His eyes flutter open only to watch your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands reaching out to squeeze at the pillowy flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.
“S’big, fuck, Sugu,” you’re moaning, a mess as you fucked yourself on him, but still not quite deep enough, and he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, making you fall forward holding onto him with a whine as he fucks up into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your needy cunt ring in your ears, the grunts your pussy pulls from his mouth as he drives himself impossibly deep, “ngh, Sugu, fuck, s’good—,” you’re whining, back arching into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders, “please,”
“That’s it, take my cock, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “so good for me. So tight, never going to leave this cunt at this rate, baby—“
And then they hear a door creak open and close nearby, freezing as they do, heart thumping against your ribs, but your wall flutters all the same, “think they’ll see us like this?” He teases, and his cock twitches in your cunt, “spread out and fucked by your former professor’s cock?” And you know he’s only goading you as the footsteps depart, but your walls squeeze at the thought, “want them to see how good you are for me? How well I’ve taught you to take this cock?”
And he begins to fuck into you again, pistoning up into you, drawing more moans from your lips. He had taught you every inch and curve and vein of his dick, but this refresher would make sure you’d never forget.
“Sugu, I’m close, I-“ and his hand is slipping between your bodies to rub at his clit right as his cock hits that spot that has you seeing stars as you cum hard around his cock. He watches the place your bodies meet, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as your walls flutter around him.
He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he twitches inside you, “fuck, sweetheart, where should I—“ and you’re moaning as you manage to meet his thrust to notch him even deeper as he finally cums.
His thick ropes paints your walls, as he rocks against you slowly, forcing his cum deeper and deeper, your name leaving your lips again and again — reverent whispers and promises muttered in your ear, as he finally stills underneath you.
You’re leaning against him, mixed releases surely leaking onto his lap and the chair, both of your quiet pants filling the silence, until he’s breaking it. He kisses your lips again and again, before he stares at you — kiss bruised lips and the pretty sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, “It’s not fair you’re this perfect,” he murmurs, a thumb dragging down your lips, “how would I have ever resisted you?”
“Luckily, the universe did that for us,” and he huffs a chuckle, “and you,” you add in a small whisper, and he frowns, nodding.
“I did and I never will again, I promise, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your burning skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m yours — yours to keep, yours to use, yours to love — you have my heart and my soul,” he’s cupping your cheek when you lift your head, “and I’ll never let go, because you’re the only answer to life I need, if you’ll allow to be yours,”
“You were always mine,” your forehead pressed to his, “that’s never changed, and it never will,”
“You always one up me, don’t you?” And you roll your eyes.
“The student has to surpass the master someday, doesn’t she?” his lips curl.
“Oh you’ve done that a long time ago, Princess,” his lips graze yours again and again, and soon enough you’re shifting on his lap, until the chair buckles under the weight and the seat travels to the bottom of where it’s wheels rested. The two of you are silent a moment, before a giggle escapes your lips, “I think you’ll have to get a new chair,” you murmur, and he’s chuckling, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Why not the chair and the desk?” And you’re blinking before he’s lifting you up, before making you turn, pressing your front flush against the wood of the desk, “and if I’m getting new furniture, I might as well use this to its full capacity, shouldn’t I?” And he’s dragging his erection across your ass, “really make sure it’s broken,”
You gasp, walls fluttering as his tip teased your messy entrance, “don’t you need broken in—“ and he bottoms out in one thrust, as he presses his body against yours, lips pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, before his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh.
And he smirks as he hears you moan under him, as he soothes the blooming hickey with his tongue, “No, I meant broken, sweetheart.”
“Suguru!” You called from his bedroom, as he smoothed his hair out in the bathroom mirror, a glance over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, “can you come help me?”
And how could he refuse? He steps out of the bathroom to only find you struggling with your Hakama. The formal garment hangs uselessly around your front, your brow furrowed and lips pursed.
He suppresses his laugh, forcing his tone to be even.
“Does my incredibly brilliant girlfriend need help with her hood?” Your pout is enough for him to nearly break his promise that he wouldn’t kiss you when your makeup was done, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the offending garment from around your neck, and you cross your arms.
“I can handle reading Hegel’s works — The Phenomenology of Spirit was irritating but doable,” and you scowl at the Hakama in his hand, “but that thing was made to torture,”
He snorts, “Consider it your last trial before graduation,”
“No, my last is seeing if my thesis was peer reviewed and accepted for publication somewhere,” you sigh, “I still have to make the edits—“
“That can be a later problem, just focus on the moment right now,” he steps behind you after adjusting the Hakama and tying it around the back and front to secure it, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “and now you look both beautiful and properly dressed,”
His arms wrap around your waist from behind, “Sugu, we have to leave soon,”
“Just a minute, just let this sink in,” he kisses the side of your neck, “have I told you how proud I am of you?”
“Hmm, just about every second of the last few days,” you lean against him, and nothing ever felt so perfect — his arms were the only ones you belonged in.
And yet, why did that thought also hurt?
“What is iy, baby?” Suguru murmurs, ever too perceptive as always, “something on your mind,”
“More like someone,” you mumble, and you’re laying your head against his shoulder, “I can’t help but feel guilty — Yuta and I just broke up and I’m—“ you’re shaking your head, “I’m so happy, and I hate myself for it,”
Suguru frowns, “I don’t know Yuta well, but I know he did love you, the same way I do, and I can’t speak for him,” but then he’s squeezing your middle, “but as someone who loves you, I’d want you to be with someone who could make could make you happy,” you kiss his head, “and isn’t that why he broke up with you? You both deserve that chance — even if it’s not each other.”
“When did you get so smart?” and he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing along the neckline of your kimono.
“Somewhere between my bachelor’s degree and being your professor,” he adds with his lips curled in a smirk, “though I’d err closer to the time of being your professor,”
Your head against his shoulder, you lean up for a kiss, as he blinks, before melting into your touch, as you pull back with a grin, “it’s ok if I initiate the kiss,” you chuckle when you catch sight of his pout, “don’t worry I’ll be giving you plenty after the ceremony — and maybe something even more than a kiss,”
“Is that a promise?” And you tug him close, pressing another kiss to his lips — your lips were already smudged, so why hold back.
“Always, for you.”
Yuta knew it was for the best.
It had been a few weeks that he spent mourning his relationship — but he knew that it was the right choice for him. He had chased after you, it felt as if he was dogging your every step, waiting for you to notice him. And when you did, he still felt as he was your second choice — and that he would live in Geto’s shadow for the entirety of the relationship.
And he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that — and neither did you. More than anything, he wanted you to be happy — even if that wasn’t with him.
It was for the best.
And the start to the new semester just proved that. He was starting his final year of his program, he had become the head of the student government (after Maki decided to step down to a more administrative role to focus on her degree), and he had even become a teacher’s assistant to one of his favorite professors. He didn’t have time to focus on a relationship, not when he should be focusing on his future.
He entered the classroom that day, a little early on his professor’s request to set up the classroom with handouts, only to bump into someone, papers spilling from his hands.
“Sorry, I—” he leans down to pick up the dropped papers, before glancing up and finds himself looking at just that—
His future.
A few months later.
“You’re late,” Suguru Geto remarks, as he shows you his watch on his wrist — the very one you had bought him for his birthday a few weeks before, “but I should expect that by now, shouldn’t I?”
You give a guilty grin, as you find your way to his side, sliding your hands up around his neck, “Yes you should, especially when your girlfriend is a very important lecturer who was kept by all her students — jealous?”
And he chuckles, his hair tied up in a half bun as usual, your fingers toying with a strand again, before he’s lacing with fingers with yours to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “Very — because your students are stealing my time with my very intellectual girlfriend,” and he leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “it sounds like it was a success — I knew it would be,” he adds, “but someone else wasn’t so sure,”
You roll your eyes playfully, “Yes, yes, you were right — the students found my work interesting, or at least interesting enough not to fall asleep and ask questions—”
“High praise,” and your lips curl into a smile, “What?”
“I love you,” he grins back at you, a chuckle on his lips, as he leans down to capture them, his smile apparent against you, as he parts from you, a heat still present in the pit of your stomach, a need for him burning as it always was, “I love you so much, Suguru,”
“I love you too, princess,” he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth against the length of your cheek, “Good thing too because otherwise, moving in together would be more than a little awkward,” and you pout, and he’s laughing before kissing you again and again, until he’s kissing your pout away with a languid kiss that has you melting into his grasp — breathless when he pulls away, lips utterly kiss ruined and red, “they should be calling us into the viewing soon,” he bites his lip,and you’re nodding reluctantly if only considering whether if you could sway him for another few moments alone. Instead you settle for burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his leaping pulse, “you’re sure about moving to Kyoto? I had only chosen Kyoto to give you space—”
You cut him off with a glance up and a raised eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I could choose, and I chose Kyoto because not only is it a good opportunity for you here to build your reputation as the department head, but because it’s a fresh start for us,”
His fingers lace with yours, “Well if they keep asking you to lecture in Tokyo, you might develop a commute,” and you roll your eyes, before shrugging.
“I can handle it,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as I'm coming home to you.”
“And a cat or a poodle,”and you light up, grinning even wider, “we should ask if they allow pets,”
“Really? We can—”
“I heard poodles are a good choice of pet,” and you’re leaning up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, “I made an appointment for at an adoption center after this,”
“Mr. Geto?” a person comes out of the leasing office, “we’re ready for you both,”
And you pull away, your fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing his hand, “Are you ready?”
His lips curl in a smile, “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? Especially they agreed to take us for our viewing after you were late,”
And you chuckle, as the two of you made your way inside, “I swear you’re going to leave without me one of these days if I’m late enough,”
“No, I’d never do that. I’ll always wait for you, sweetheart,” he holds the door open for you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have all the time in the world after all.” And you grin at him as you walk past him, his fingers reaching into his pocket.
He had found out his answer to life — watching you greet and speak with the agent, before glancing back at him with a small smile and tilt of your head — his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket—
And now he just needed to know yours.
END.
Yuta’s own love story will be coming after Professor Gojo’s!
✧a/n: wow i'm still in disbelief i finished this series. this is my first series on tumblr, and i truly hope you all enjoyed. this part was wayyyy longer than i expected. but i hope i did the series justice.
✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03
#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru fanfiction#suguru geto fanfiction#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru x reader
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Indigo Park theory
Okay, here we go.
Salem the Skunk, (if you played the arcade game), we found out they're like a villain or like a troublemaker to Rambley and his friends. They said Salem is a cunning, brilliant mind, and uses countless inventions it says on one of its posts. When you play the arcade game, Salem mentions their smokescreen works to crash Mollie's plane. They've been working on some 'potions' they have been experimenting on squirrels.
When they used it on Mollie, it made her probably into a bloodthirsty monster. "Now with none o' that "friendship" garbage stopping her from tearing you to pieces!" And what did Mollie do when our MC met her, she tears the MC into pieces.
On Rambley's Railroad, we meet his friends (And Lloyd. I'm putting on a bet he's like a cowardly lion. He acted too innocent during the game.) on the railroad tracks, but Rambley starts to glitch on Salem's track and the place is damaged into pieces and a bit of a pile of blood there too.
It shows enough proof that Rambley, Mollie, Lloyd, and all of the cast are AI-sentient. And that also includes Salem too. Every popular mascot must have a villain who wants to destroy the main character. Salem became too intelligent and aware of their surroundings. In their program and data base, their only goal is to destroy friendship. And since they can only do that behind the screen, they perhaps can make a virus.
The same virus that was created in the 'potion'. Causing the mascots, Mollie, and everything to go out of control and cause chaos. Rambley seems to be the only survivor from the virus, but when he's close to Salem's track, he can't mention them, causing him to malfunction. Salem must have done something for Rambley to be confused about why the park shut down and why all of his friends were acting strange.
Another thing I couldn't figure or it might be shown during future chapters. Rambley is the only character who doesn't have the mascot animatronic or a live mascot. We've seen Mollie and Lloyd, they're blood and flesh. Finley is probably like them too.
We know the park is definitely hiding something in there. And somehow creating all the characters into a living being. So this is probably set in the future. Mollie and Lloyd could have been friendly and fun for all children and adults for who knows how long, yet all of a sudden, something causes them to act different and vicious. All except Rambley, who also wants to figure out what happened to the park and his friends.
#Indigo Park#Indigo Park theory#game theory#long theory post#rambly raccoon#indigo park#rambley the raccoon#Salem the Skunk#rambley raccoon
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Hey! I saw your post about requests and I have one (I will try to keep it short):
Reader feeling self-conscious after having a baby so they start to work out only for Eddie to watch like 🤤🤤 which makes them stop being insecure because he’s still clearly very attracted to this body. 
Can be smutty or not, your choice.
If that’s not your thing no worries, have a happy Saturday! 
Ooh, I love this one! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!
cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (please don’t do this) body insecurity, mention of pregnancy, hurt comfort
husband!Eddie x wife!reader
It had been a couple of months since you had your baby and you hadn’t even thought of anything but her for the first few weeks. After you had gotten into a rhythm with Eddie of taking care of the baby, it gave you more time to think about things. Like the chores that had piled up. Your job that you needed to get back to. Your body.
It had been months and you had done anything to get it back to what it was before you had Charlotte. Eddie hadn’t said a word about it, but you were sure that he wasn’t in love with the way you looked, especially since there was a bunch of loose skin. Maybe that was why he hadn’t had sex with you since you the baby had come.
Because of that, you decided to work out in your home gym while Eddie was at work. You put on your usual working out set which and noticed that it fit differently. The bra was a little tight and the shorts were shorter than you had anticipated. But, it was all you had, so you shrugged it off and headed down the stairs to work out.
The gym that you had spent so much time in suddenly looked intimidating. You hadn’t been in it since you had gotten pregnant since you didn’t have the energy, but now you were ready.
You put on your headphones and blasted the mix you usually played when exercising and began to stretch. You bent over and took a deep breath as you touched your toes. You then stood back up before bending back over and jumped when you felt a pair of hands grab your ass.
You whipped around and removed your headphones, turning to see your husband, Eddie standing behind you. He was still in his mechanic uniform and had soot on his face and all over his hands. He put his hands up in defense and stepped away to give you your space but you stepped forward.
“What’ya doin’?” He asked, taking the time to check you out in your very tight outfit. The way your bra pushed up your tits and the way your shorts hugged your ass in all the right places. God, you still had it.
“Working out. Is that a problem?” You put your hands on your hips, anger coursing through you.
“Not a problem at all, hon. I just-you’ve been a bit on edge lately.” You weren’t surprised that he noticed. He always payed so much attention to you.
“Of course I’m on edge, Eddie! Look at me!”
“I’m looking, honey,” he took you into his arms. “and I don’t see any issues.”
“Oh really?” You asked, pulling away from him, moving your hands to the lose skin of your stomach. “This isn’t an issue?”
“Not at all. You’re my honey and I-I love you just the way you are.” Eddie dropped to his knees and pressed multiple kisses to your stomach and hearing your laugh was music to his ears. “See? Love you and your stomach, bub.”
“Okay,” you laughed. “Okay, I get it. Now kiss me, please?”
“Already kissing you.” He pressed more kisses to the skin and it was cruelly making you feel better. Almost as if it was magic.
“I meant my lips,” you rolled your eyes. Even in a sweet moment, the man was so unserious.
“Which ones?” He looked back up at you with a wink.
“The ones on my face.”
“Gotta be specific. Could kiss every inch of you.” You knew that was true and almost wanted him to.
“I know you could.”
Eddie stood to his feet and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a sweet kiss, his lips capturing yours. Yours went to his waist, wrapping around them tight. As his lips moved with yours, all you could think about was his comment about kissing you everywhere. Maybe you’d take him up on it. That would surely do the trick to make you feel better.
You pulled away and he tried to chase your lips, but you kept your distance, wanting time to speak before he pulled you in again. He was always so good at doing that. Especially when you were in one of your silly arguments. He was always able to make you forget what you were even arguing about just with his lips.
“So um, about you kissing every inch of me…”
“You want me to?” Eddie’s face lit up and it made your knees weak at how excited he still was to please you after all those years.
“Please,” you begged and he was quick to pull you in for another kiss before kissing lips moved to your cheek and then your other one. Your chin. Your forehead. He then moved to your jaw and down your neck.
He got to your shoulder and moved your bra strap out of the way to get more access to it. He then moved to the other side to give it the same attention. His movements were slow and sweet and you could feel yourself getting wet at the feeling of his lips on your skin.
Once he was done with your chest, you lifted your arms up and Eddie pulled your bra off and his eyes widened as he caught sight of your tits.
“Fuck, honey,” he gasped, looking down at your chest. “You’re so fucking hot. Shit.” He bent down and licked a stripe across one of your nipples before bringing it into his mouth before giving it a suck while swirling his tongue around it. He then moved to the other one and did the same thing, wanting to give it the same attention.
“Oh,” you moaned. “So good, Eds.” He kissed all the way down to your stomach and pulled down your shorts to reveal your pussy. He lowered you to the floor and helped you removed your socks and shoes before fully taking off your shorts and tossing them behind him.
You slowly unzipped his uniform and helped him remove it before taking off his boxers and throwing them aside. You were so desperate for him that you didn’t even care about a condom. You would have been so happy if you turned out to have another baby. So lucky.
“Don’t have a condom,” he shrugged. “But I can go get one.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you pointed at him. “Need you so fucking bad, baby,” you whined.
“But what if-”
“I don’t care,” you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say.
“So you don’t care about getting pregnant again?”
“Now that you’ve assured me that you really do love me unconditionally, of course I don’t care. Now please fuck me.”
“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” he winked and slowly thrusted into you, both of you moaning at the feeling of his bare cock inside of you.
He moved slow and steady and you couldn’t believe that you had actually gone so many months without him inside of you. It felt so good and he always knew exactly what you wanted before you did.
“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he smiled at the sound that he had missed so much. “Fuck, baby, right there, yeah.”
“Look at you,” he took your face in one of his hands and turned your face towards the mirror, forcing you to look into it. “See how fucking hot you look underneath me? Look at you taking me so well, doll.” You watched the two of you fuck in the mirror and were even more turned on, feeling yourself getting even more wet as you watched your bodies move together.
Eddie reached just to right spot and you turned back to him, your back arching in euphoria as you reached your climax, screaming his name as you did so. Afterwards, he pulled you and cleaned the two of you up before carrying you up the stairs so you both could take a much needed shower.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#husband!eddie#wife!reader#eddie munson hurt/comfort#mechanic!eddie#mechanic!eddie x fem!reader#mechanic!eddie x reader
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heyy! SO glad to see you're having another event!! The last piece with kags was so cute!!
For this event- i'd really like to order a large americano for here with iwaizumi!
So excited to see what you come up with!
Working From Home
word count: 656 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: post-time skip husband!Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader
genre: fluffy smut
warnings: spoilers, mdni, nsfw (ironically)
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Iwaizumi sighed and stretched his neck. While he enjoyed a little time away from the very energetic roster of the Japanese national team, he was proven time and time again that he was not cut out for office work. The only upside to those days working from home, when he felt chained to the computer, was when your home office days overlapped and he could enjoy the comfort of knowing you shared the same space. Since you worked remotely often, he had made sure to look for an apartment with an extra room with plenty of natural light that could be turned into an actual office. He made a little game out of knocking at your door and announcing himself like a secretary would, whenever he brought you something to eat.
Today however, it seemed like you had finished early and he could hear the quiet bustling of chores as he focused on drawing up a plan for a new training regimen he wanted to try out next week. He sat on the couch, laptop on a tray over his knees, reading over the timeline when a small plate came into view.
“Here, hon. To tie you over until dinner time.”
Iwaizumi looked up at the plate in your hands but was met with the sight of a completely different kind of snack.
A washed out tank top clung to your chubby body - something you often wore while you two did housework. It was an old, ratty thing that was a bit too tight here, too wide there, and had a frayed hem from having washed it too many times. But as if he cared when all of that was paired with his wife clearly not wearing a bra.
“Is it my birthday?”, he asked, very obviously staring at your breasts.
You looked down on yourself, a little puzzled at first, then grinned.
“This is your fantasy?”, you laughed.
“It for sure is the start of one.”
You put the plate on the coffee table and straightened again, highly amused that your husband was not even attempting to hide his stares.
“I thought I’d get a jump on things and do some laundry.”
Iwaizumi didn’t miss a beat. “Can I be laundry?”
You giggled when he put the laptop next to the plate of apple slice you had cut for him and pulled you into his lap - you allowed yourself a bit of shifting so you could comfortably straddle him, your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.
Not wasting any time with pretense he brought both hands up to gently grab your breasts, squeezing them when you leaned in for a kiss. You felt like you were back in high school and ignoring homework to fool around.
You chuckled against his lips at his now rhythmic squeezing. “What are you doing?”
“Just relaxing my hands, darling.”, he met your eyes with a smirk, “You know how important it is to loosen your hands every once in a while when working at the computer for too long.”
You nodded along, putting on a serious expression. “Is that so?”
“Hm hm. Trust me, I’m a professional.” He began kissing your neck, giving your now hardened nipples a few brushes with his fingertips.
You let out a moan when his lips went over your shoulder down to your breasts, exposed from him pulling a little at the neckline of your top.
“I remember you said something about regular exercise while in home office as well.”
“You’re such a good listener, babe.”
He lifted you off his lap to lay down the couch, swiftly pulling your shirt over your head, flinging it somewhere behind him and taking your nipple into his mouth.
Large, calloused hands gripped your fleshy hips and he groaned when your plush thigh rubbed against the hard outline in his sweats.
“What about work?”, you teased
“They can live without me for an hour.”
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a/n: thank you for your sweet words! Please enjoy ^^ 🌟
#sunnys cozy cafe#iwaizumi hajime x chubby reader#iwaizumi x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#chubby reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#iwaizumi haijime x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi imagine#hq iwaizumi#iwaizumi smut#iwaizumi x reader#haikyuu iwaizumi#iwaizumi hajime
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nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1
author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.
summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.
pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader
warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!
after
despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.
but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.
the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.
“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.
“how was work?” your mom asked.
you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.
when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.
but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.
but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.
it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.
“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”
both of your parents hummed.
“did you have dinner already?” you asked.
“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.
your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”
you wanted to throw up.
you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.
“oh,” was all you could say.
“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”
you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him.
“i’ll figure something out,” you said.
your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.
before
you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.
it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood.
but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.
you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.
not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.
a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.
“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.
you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”
the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”
“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.
“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.
“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly.
“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.
you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.
“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.
you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.
the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”
matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.
matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.
the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”
you nodded.
mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.
matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.
you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.
if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.
after
you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.
“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”
“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.
“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”
your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.
you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”
but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.
you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.
and that’s what life had felt like lately:
unfortunate.
unfortunate shit just happening to you.
it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.
you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.
emma:
hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!
you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.
years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.
but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.
you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.
now it just filled you with dread.
no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.
but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.
you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.
you:
i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!
and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.
before
the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.
missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.
it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.
school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.
now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.
and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.
the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.
especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children.
all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.
which is how you ended up playing the game of life.
even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.
you found yourself smiling and laughing along.
you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.
“are you having fun?” he asked.
your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”
“really?” he smiled.
you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”
matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”
you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.
but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.
you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.
“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”
matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”
to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?
evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”
you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”
he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”
you locked your fingers together. “promise.”
after
it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.
which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had.
before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.
“hey! what’s up?”
you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”
emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”
you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”
“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”
and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.
“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”
“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”
“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”
“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.
“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”
you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”
“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”
you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.
there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”
before
matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.
both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.
morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.
hence the party in the basement.
morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.
“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”
no one said a word.
you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.
“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”
the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”
thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.
you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.
but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”
“truth,” simone replied.
morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.
the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.
“truth or dare?” she asked.
you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.
“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”
your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.
a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.
“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.
morgan blinked. “what?”
it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”
she guffawed. “but you have to!”
matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”
“but you lose if you don’t!”
he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”
your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.
“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.
a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.
“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.
matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”
you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”
matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”
“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”
he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”
you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”
he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.
“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.
oh god. did he like simone?
your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.
you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”
he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”
now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”
matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.
“what do you mean?”
“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”
“matt, what are you talking about?”
he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”
“know what?”
matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?
“matt what—”
“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.
you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.
matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”
“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”
“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”
you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”
“would you let me?”
words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.
but it was perfect.
after
you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.
most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.
it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.
unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.
but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?
you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.
it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.
“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”
and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.
the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.
“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”
you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”
taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.
you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”
taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”
your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”
taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”
“taryn...”
“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”
you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.
“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”
you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.
“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”
you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”
the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.
you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.
emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.
the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.
it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.
emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.
you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.
you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.
emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.
but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.
“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”
if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.
if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.
if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.
if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.
but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.
brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.
if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.
but it was too late now.
matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.
you felt like an idiot.
you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.
your hands were shaking again.
you shoved them in your pockets again.
matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.
“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.
you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”
matt scoffed. “not happening.”
out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”
matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”
“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.
brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”
you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.
and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.
you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.
but it wasn’t like that this time around.
you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.
the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.
you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.
you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.
except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.
you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.
you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.
brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.
a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.
you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.
in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.
his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.
you just—
couldn't.
matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.
you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.
before
you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.
matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.
the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.
“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side.
“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”
“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.
moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.
you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.
a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.
“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.
you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.
matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.
“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.
matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”
you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.
all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.
“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.
you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.
“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.
you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”
matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”
you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.
matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.
you blinked, still smiling. “what?”
“you're not gonna say you love me back?”
you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”
matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”
and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”
and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.
matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.
“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.
“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”
matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”
“i love you so much.”
after
the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.
you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.
last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th.
the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.
“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.
“rough weekend,” you grumbled.
frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”
you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.
“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”
you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”
“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”
there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.
“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”
you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.
“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”
“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”
you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.
“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”
frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.
you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.
but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.
not two minutes later.
not thirty minutes later.
not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.
not even on the drive home.
frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.
it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.
and now it was no one.
now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.
you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?
you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.
“hey.”
it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.
“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.
“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”
“good.”
matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”
“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”
“if you—”
“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?
matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”
the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night.
“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”
“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”
“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”
“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”
you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.
one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.
and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.
there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.
you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.
so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.
you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.
“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.
your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”
“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”
a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”
before
“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.
you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”
“do you have any back up schools?”
you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”
ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”
“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.
ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”
“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”
your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”
“i want to be with matthew.”
ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”
“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”
ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”
after
you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.
it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.
and now it was saturday.
you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively.
if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.
you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.
it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.
despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.
the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.
“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”
“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.
she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.
“how’s work going?”
you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”
simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”
“but are you passionate about what you do?”
she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”
you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.
“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”
it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.
simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”
you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”
simone whispered your name.
“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”
simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”
you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”
simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”
you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”
your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”
“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”
“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”
your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.
so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”
simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”
you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop.
the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.
maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.
before
the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.
you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.
the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.
but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.
but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.
it was fine.
just high school.
you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.
but it wasn’t like that.
because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.
matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.
so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.
you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.
“please hold your applause until the end.”
you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.
your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.
as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.
“outside!” brady pointed.
you nodded.
as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.
a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.
when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”
matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”
“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered.
“me too, baby.”
unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.
but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—
everything was perfect.
you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf.
and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.
but you had no idea how the future would turn out.
you thought matt was forever.
after
you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.
you could do that, right?
just casual sex?
the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—
you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.
your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.
the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her.
her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.
his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.
he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.
but maybe it was for the best.
you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.
“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”
“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”
you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.
which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.
you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.
“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”
oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?
but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.
you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.
“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”
“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.
simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”
“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.
“mostly acrylic.”
andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”
you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”
“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.
you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.
“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”
your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”
and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.
“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”
you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”
andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.
the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.
he, quite literally, left you in the cold.
andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.
“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”
you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”
andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”
your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.
you refused to be pathetic any longer.
which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.
before
you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.
and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.
because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.
tonight was different.
safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.
you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.
until tonight.
you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.
“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.
matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.
“you okay?” you asked.
he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”
the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.
but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.
normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.
“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.
“nothing,” he grunted.
“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”
“there’s nothing to help.”
“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”
“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.
your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.
matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”
“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.
matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.
a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.
a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.
his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.
“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”
“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.
you kept walking.
“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”
you kept walking.
a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.
gently, he turned you around.
“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.
you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?
he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”
you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”
with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”
“matthew, you know that’s not true—”
“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”
a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.
“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.
“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”
your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.
“i love you, matty.”
he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”
after
“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.
your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.
you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”
“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.
you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”
your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”
your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”
“alan, this will be good for her!”
but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”
“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.
but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.
so was matthew.
you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”
the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew.
but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.
andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.
and you hated yourself for it.
the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.
andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.
“hey,” he greeted.
you gave him a small smile. “hi.”
“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”
you shook your head. “not too bad.”
c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.
“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—
“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”
you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”
andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”
you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.
you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.
your phone buzzed.
simone:
how’s it going?
you smiled despite yourself.
you:
he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.
you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.
you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.
“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.
you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”
“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”
your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.
you wanted to throw up.
instead, you chugged the drink.
“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.
you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”
he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.
and another.
and another.
your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.
matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.
but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.
your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.
“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”
but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.
then the panic set in.
it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.
“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance.
“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.
“matt hey—”
brady. you were right, brady was here.
god you loved brady.
“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”
with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.
oh. your date.
there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.
you were gonna throw up.
or pass out.
you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—
“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”
the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.
your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.
were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—
oh god.
oh god.
“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”
did you?
but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.
maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.
“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.
“he—he was gonna—”
matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.
matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.
your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.
what a year tonight has been.
your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.
“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”
your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.
rock bottom.
you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.
“you okay?” he asked.
“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”
matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.
“baby i—”
“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”
“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”
maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”
“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”
“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”
matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.
and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?
you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.
“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”
brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.
“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”
you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”
matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”
your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”
he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”
you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”
#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk x reader#matthew tkachuk#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#nhl blurb
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★ pakisabi nalang sa kanya — multifandom x gn!reader
how did they show their love for you pre-confession + how did they confess?
a/n: always wanted to do one of these posts teehee:3 | fandoms: genshin impact, stardew valley, l&co + haikyuu!! | warnings: none!
— through letters “sometimes, love creates a poet.”
words weren’t enough to explain their love for you, but putting some action into it might help. day and night, they put their admiration for you into sweet, beautiful words they wished would help them explain what you had done to their hearts. though they knew those words could never explain even a third(1/3) of what their heart ached to say. once, twice, even thrice a week you’d arrive to school/work with a little note under your desk, locker, or even in your lunchbox. letters filled with toe-wiggling poems, songs, and beautiful paragraphs which overflowed with love in every single line started piling up in your room. they wondered what you even did to their letters, were they rotting away in the trashcan? were they turned to dust by the fire you lit in your backyard? or were they kept safely in a small box under your bed, a heart encircled on its cover?
little by little, they added clues to their identity, whether it be a flower which was related to them, or a little trinket from your past encounters. one day, they handed you a letter by hand, after of course getting you on a whole treasure hunt to find out where to go. that little adventure led you to a garden. with you sweaty, stressed out, and confused, they confessed right there.
gi. KAZUHA, diluc, fischl, XINGQIU, kokomi, alhaitham(HEAR ME OUT), charlotte sdv. ELLIOT l&co. kipps(again, HEAR ME OUT) + your faves!! ♡
— quietly “in silence, we often find the deepest connection.”
it took them a while to understand what was happening, the way their hearts beat faster at your mere presence, the way the curve on your lips seemed to infect their own, the way they always couldn’t wait for the next day purely because of you. after hours of staring at the ceiling, they came to a conclusion—it was love. that was all. you weren’t some sorcerer who snatched their heart, nor were you a weirdo who spiked their drink, you were you, and apparently, they liked that. ever since their “awakening” they started doing little things for you. whether it was returning one of your pens they saw on the floor, or refilling your water bottle whenever you were too focused on works/studies. all these little things came unnoticed by you, but they knew they were making a difference
day by day, the spark between you grew. smiles were exchanged as you made eye contact, now, they weren’t afraid to do things for you in the dark, now they could step out of the shadows, and help you as they were. their confession was abrupt, and unexpected at that. as they stood in front of your desk, they held out a singular rose.
gi. NEUVILLETTE, cyno, diluc, XIAO, sucrose, freminet, wanderer sdv. sebastian, leah, penny hq. KAGEYAMA TOBIO, kozume kenma + your faves!! ♡
— proudly “you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”
oh this little shit. they couldn’t get enough of you, nor could practically everyone else around them, they had no choice! always blabbing about how angelic you were, how your happiness seemed to be so..contagious. “okay so today—“ they started, before their poor friend quickly placed a hand on their somehow always open mouth. “don’t even start.” you’d think people would like to keep their crushes secret, especially to the one they admire but nope! even you knew! get ready for flirting galore. i don’t think they would even need a confession, the whole nation practically knew at this point. there were times you thought their love for you was fake, that they were just joking. i mean, they never actually confessed.
well, until now, of course. they got news to spread around town that they got a lover and that they’ve been spotted at the local cafe which may or may not have caught your attention. now, they stood there, bouquet in hand(coffee in the other) and friends all around.
“so uh, would you like to be that lover?”
gi. TARTAGLIA, KAEYA, baizhu, beidou sdv. sam(?) l&co. LOCKWOOD hq. iwaizumi haijime, OIKAWA TOORU, tanaka ryūnosuke + your faves!! ♡
— through teasing “pride often gets in the way of love.”
oh god did you hate their ass. woke up at 5am just to be early to work/school?oops! they beat you there, now they won’t stop talking about it! they love teasing you, they just can’t stop. sometimes they wonder if the real reason theyre teasing you is to cover up what’s really under their skin, to cover up the hook you pierced through their heart. it ate them up from the inside, but no way were they gonna admit that! if someone’s gonna confess, it better be you first..
they would have confessed rather stupidly. having gone to a bar in the evening with their friends, they called your number(which they got after getting down on their knees and begging) and confessed right there, their voice slurred, it was obvious how many glasses they chugged down. the next day, they remembered absolutely nothing, it took you a few days before finally confronting them about it.
“wait what?! i confessed to you? d-do you like me back?”
gi. TARTAGLIA(again), KAEYA(again), itto, sdv. shane(ig) hq. kuroo tetsurō, TSUKISHIMA KEI, bokuto kōtarō + your faves!! ♡
extra. through songs/music ( kazuha, itto, elliot sdv, tsukishima kei & lucy carlyle) . through food ( XIANGLING, ningguang, emily sdv + me/hj)
(><) wanna support? reblog with tags pookie!!
#( ˘▽˘)っaki writes#genshin impact#lockwood and co#stardew valley#stardew valley x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#stardew valley x gn reader#stardew valley x farmer#lockwood and co x reader#anthony lockwood x reader#lockwood x reader#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#im gonna go wild on the tags watch me#alhaitham x reader#baizhu x reader#haikyuu#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x gn reader#kazuha x reader#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#xingqiu x reader#nope i give up#tsukishima x reader
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Hey love your writing could you maybe write Hispanic reader x Alex and Charles like maybe a 3 way relationship and the reader is pregnant if your comfortable
Hello! I could totally write a polyamorous relationship/throuple with Alex, Charles, and Hispanic reader! So I don’t know if you meant they’re together and she ends up pregnant and if she’s already pregnant so I’ll write about Y/N ending up pregnant and Alexandra and Charles being there for her. Sorry it took me so long, I don’t know if this is what you wanted but I hope you like it regardless!
The Happy Throuple
Paring: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux
Summary: After a night of celebrating Charles’s Grand Prix win, Y/N ends up pregnant
Warning: spelling and grammatical errors
A/N: i have researched things about pregnancy and GUESS WHO’S GRADUATING TOMORROW! Maybe I’ll post pictures at the end of a fanfic, who knows.
Everyone knows that Charles and Alexandra are dating, there are so many photos of them together at events. However, no one knows there’s a third person in their relationship and that person is Y/N L/N. People know that Y/N and Alexandra are best friends and roommates because they study in the same university so no one finds it strange when Y/N is also at the paddock with Alexandra.
Y/N and Alexandra were wearing something red while observing the race from the hospitality with Leo on Alexandra's lap.
“Do you think Charles is gonna get P1?” Y/N asked Alexandra.
“I hope so, he gained 4 spots, he looks like he is doing pretty well." Alexandra commented, petting Leo who was wagging his tail all happily.
They were watching the TV closely, Alexandra put Leo on the ground so he could run around, Charles and Max were very close but towards the end, Charles did an overtake and ended up getting P1, Max gets P2, Lewis get P3. Y/N and Alexandra were cheering and they hugged.
"Yay, our muñeco won." Y/N said.
"Yeah, come, lets meet him out in the garage." Alexandra said, picking up Leo before taking Y/N's hand to lead her to the Ferrari garage. They spotted Charles's car so when Charles got out of his car, he went to Alexandra to hug and kiss her, he hugged Y/N and was about to lean in for a kiss when Y/N moved her head so he just kissed her cheek, immediately remembering no one knows about their true relationship. Charles got Leo out of Alexandra's hands and let Leo give him little dachshund kisses.
Charles said goodbye to the girls and Leo before he went off to do the post race interview. After that, Charles went to get Alexandra and Y/N so they could go to their hotel. They walked to Charles's car, Alexandra walking Leo on his little leash, and they got in. Charles drove to the hotel and once they made it to the room, Charles kissed Y/N.
"Finally! I have been wanting to do that since I got out of the car." Charles admitted.
"Yeah, well this relationship has to be under wraps sadly." Y/N said, sitting on the bed. Alexandra sits next to her, placing her hand on Y/N's thigh.
"But it's 2024, mon papillon, I'm sure people will understand." Alexandra says, placing a kiss on Y/N's neck.
"Fans, yes, but what about press? Charles, you are signed until 2028, i don't want to jeopardize that." Y/N said. Now Charles sat on Y/N's other side.
"You won't, mon ange. But let's go out to eat." Charles suggested.
"Its Las Vegas, wouldn't you rather party with the rest of the grid?" Y/N asked.
"We could always celebrate a different way." Charles said, his eyes darken with lust.
"It is Vegas after all, mon papillon. And we have to give the Grand Prix winner his reward after all." Alexandra said, turning Y/N's head so she was facing her before leaning in for a kiss, her tongue tracing Y/N's bottom lip so she would open up, and she did. While they made out, Charles began planting kisses on Alexandra's neck while Alexandra started to undress Y/N and well, what happend in Vegas stays in Vegas.
The next day, Y/N was still in bed, cuddling with Alexandra while Charles took the liberty to order room service and take Leo out on his morning walk. Y/N woke up because Charles put Leo on the bed.
"Ay Leo, Charles, why did you put him on the bed?" Y/N asked, getting up and putting on a hotel robe.
"Because i wanted you to eat breakfast before we go to the airport and I know if i woke you up, you would’ve probably stab me." Charles, said, before Y/N kissed him.
"With what knife, baby?" Y/N asked, taking a strawberry from the breakfast spread, biting into it.
"Trust me, mon ange, you would have found something to stab me, never said it had to be a knife." Charles said and Alexandra woke up, she put on her pajamas, and put Leo on the ground before giving Y/N and Charles a morning kiss.
"What time do we have to go back to Monaco?" Alexandra asked, sitting down to eat the pancakes Charles's ordered.
“Plane leaves in a few hours so you have time to eat and get dressed.” Charles said.
“Great, I’m gonna take a shower, Y/N, come join me.” Alexandra said.
“Mm, i want to eat first.” Y/N said.
“Okay, we’ll eat then shower.” Alexandra said, patting the seat next to her so Y/N could sit down.
They ate, showered, and changed.
“Okay I think I have everything but I’m not sure.” Y/N said, looking over her luggage.
“If you end up missing anything, I’ll replace it.” Charles said, kissing her temple.
“In that case, I’m missing a Dior bag, a Dyson air wrap, a Tiffany bracelet.” Y/N joked and Charles was laughing.
“Yeah, okay.” Charles said, Alexandra entered the hotel room with grocery bags and Leo on a leash.
“I bought some chips for Y/N since he gets snacky on the plane, I have some treats for Leo, I got candy for me, and I got you some snacks too.” Alexandra said,
“Perfect, looks like we are ready to go.” Charles said.
Two weeks have passed since Las Vegas and Y/N was currently in the hotel room in Abu Dhabi, puking her guts out in the bathroom, Alexandra right behind her soothing her back and holding her hair back.
“You’re okay, Mon papillon. Charles, could it be something she ate?”Alexandra asked
“I’m looking at the food, I don’t think anything should have affected her last night.” Charles said, entering the bathroom. “Mon ange, are you sure you don’t have the flu?” Charles asked.
“Mon beau, she doesn’t have a fever.” Alexandra said.
“Stop talking about me like I’m a child.” Y/N groaned with her head still hovering the toilet bowl.
“Oh, but you are our baby, Mon ange, we will treat as such.” Charles said and Y/N puked more. “Yeah, we can’t get on the flight today, I’ll just tell Fred we need an extra day, you can’t fly when you’re sick.” Charles left the bathroom to make a phone call.
“Mi reina, i gotta tell you something.” Y/N said, wiping her mouth and resting her back against the wall.
“What happened?” Alexandra asked,
“I think I’m late.” Y/N said.
“Wait, how do you know you’re late? Isn’t your period irregular like all the time?” Alexandra asked.
“Yes but my breasts feel sore too, I am so tired, it can’t be a coincidence that I’m puking right now, right?” Y/N said.
“You’re right. It’s only been two weeks though, if we want to be sure, it needs to be 3 weeks after you’ve had sex so next week. Think you can wait until next week to take the pregnancy test?” Alexandra asked,
“Yeah, of course I can wait.” Y/N said.
It’s next week, the season was over, they’re all in Monaco, Y/N is in Alexandra’s apartment.
“Okay so how are we going to get the pregnancy test?” Alexandra asked.
“Well i can’t go, people link you to me, I can’t be seen buying the test or they will think it’s for you and I rather not have Charles find out one of us might be pregnant through some WAG account.” Y/N said,
“Okay, fine, call someone.” Alexandra said, Y/N nodded and called her friend Cordelia. An hour later, Cordelia knocked on the apartment door and Y/N answered it.
“thanks again, Cordelia.” Y/N said,
“Yeah no problem, are we hoping it’s positive or negative?” Cordelia asked.
“Well he always wanted a family…we’ll see.” Y/N said, saying goodbye to Cordelia, closing the door. “Okay, I’m ready.” Y/N entered Alexandra’s bathroom and Alexandra just stood outside the door. “Like am I ready to be a mom? I don’t fucking know, I’m barely 22, does Charles want to be a father now? Like I know he wants to be one someday but now?”
“Papillon, relax, you are stressing out and that can’t be healthy.” Alexandra.
“Reina, please.” Y/N said. A few minutes later, she opened the bathroom door and Alexandra came in.
“What does it say?” Alexandra asked.
“I have to wait 10 minutes.” Y/N said. “What am I going to do? I’m not even working!”
“With Charles as the father, you’ll be taken care of.” Alexandra said,
“This is not helping, I don’t want to be a kept woman.” Y/N said. Her and Alexandra kept talking until her timer went off. Both checked the test.
“I guess you’re pregnant.” Alexandra said and Y/N began crying so Alexandra hugged her
“What am I going to tell my parents?” Y/N sobbed in Alexandra’s arms,
“Well first things first, we HAVE to tell Charles.” Alexandra told her.
“I know, I know. But he’s with Pascale now, I don’t want to interrupt.” Y/N said.
“Fine, when he gets back from his mom’s, we will tell him. I thought you took birth control?” Alexandra asked.
“I don’t take my prescription pills as often as I should be (guilty 🤪) you should know that by now.” Y/N said and Alexandra rolled her eyes.
“And you tell us that you don’t want to be treated like a child, let’s go to Charles’s apartment and wait for him there, being the test.” Alexandra said, opening the door to leave.
“Yes ma’am.” Y/N said following behind.
The women entered Charles’s apartment and noticed Leo wasn’t here.
“He must have Leo with him.” Alexandra commented, closing the apartment door and Y/N started arising the fridge. “Can you not?”
“I’m eating for 2, querida, I think I’m allowed to raid his fridge,” Y/N said but… “There’s a lot of healthy shit in here.” Alexandra rolled her eyes.
“Just wait until…” Alexandra started but was interrupted by Charles entering the apartment, Leo running to say hello to the two women.
“Mon ange, ma Belle, what are you guys doing here?” Cablees asked, kissing both women.
“Um, I have something to tell you. You might need to sit down for this.” Y/N said and Charles nodded, sitting on the couch. “So remember that night in Las Vegas and how I was sick in Abu Dhabi?” Charles nodded, holding Y/N’s hands in his. “I’m pregnant.”
“Are you sure? Aren’t you on birth control?” Charles asked.
“You know I don’t take them as often as I should and you could have used a condom, by the way.” Y/N said.
“Are you sure you’re pregnant? Those tests are prone to false positives.” Charles said.
“Well it’s been said that for the most accurate results, the test must be taken 3 weeks after sex, which I did. But I’ll go to my doctor to check too.” Y/N said fiddling with her hands. “I’m gonna go to the bakery, I’ll be back.” Y/N left the apartment.
“If she is pregnant, what’s going to happen?” Alexandra asked Charles.
“Then I’ll be a father and I’ll raise the baby with you two,” Charles replied as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“But are we going public or what? If you say you’re going to be a dad and they don’t see me showing but see Y/N, what do you think is going to happen?” Alexandra asked.
“We will figure it out. If Y/N is truly pregnant, I’ll announce on Instagram that we’re together.” Charles said.
“Talk to Ferrari before you make that decision.” Alexandra said.
“Yeah of course I will.” Charles said and Y/N came back with the cookie croissant.
“I made an appointment for 2 weeks.” Y/N said.
“I’ll go with you.” Charles said.
“Mm, you Can’t, no one knows about us, it’ll be weird if you are seen going with me to a medical practice.” Y/N said.
“But I want to be there for you.” Charles said.
“Would it be less weird if I came too?” Alexandra asked.
“This is ridiculous, we’ll just go in separate cars. I’m going to my apartment because I really want bistec empanado and some sopita and you’re lacking groceries.” Y/N said before leaving.
It was the day of the OBGYN visit, Y/N was with Charles and Alexandra in the waiting room.
“You think we can go out to eat after this?” Y/N asked Charles and Alexandra.
“Yeah sure, where do you want to go?” Alexandra asked.
“Wait, we need to make your diet pregnancy friendly.” Charles said,
“Muñeco.” Y/N whined, Charles was going to say something when.
“Y/N L/N.” The medical assistant called, Y/N stood up along with Charles and Alexandra. “You can’t really bring anyone in.”
“We’ll stay here.” Alexandra said, sitting back down with Charles while Y/N went into the exam room.
“Alright Y/N, you think you might be pregnant, yes?” She asked.
“Yes, it’s been 5 weeks since ‘conception’ i guess, I haven’t had my period at all in these 5 weeks.” Y/N said.
“But you are consistently irregular too, right?” The assistant asked
“Yes, which is why I’m here for the blood test to confirm I’m pregnant.” Y/N said.
“Okay then, we’ll do your physical exam and then the blood test.” The assistant said and after it was said and done, the assistant who took her blood said she would call Y/N with the results.
“Alright, let’s go, I want Italian.” Y/N said and as they were leaving the obgyn, Y/N had the urge to throw up so she ran into the hallway bathroom, got into a stall, and puked. Alexandra walked in to check on Y/N while Charles made a phone call to schedule a meeting with Ferrari’s media team.
“Hey, you’re okay. If we get Italian food, you’re getting stracciatella or whatever soup is on the menu.” Alexandra said.
“Why is it called morning sickness?” Y/N said, before puking again.
“I Don’t know, Mon papillon.” Alexandra said, trying to comfort her. “You okay? I’ll wait for you outside.” Y/N nodded and Alexandra left to wait in the hallway with Charles.
“I’m talking to the Ferrari media team.” Charles said,
“You sure?” Alexandra asked.
“Of course I am. I’ll video chat with them later today and let the whole world know I’m dating 2 beautiful women and that I’m going to be a father.” Charles said, kissing Alexandra. Y/N walked out of the bathroom.
“How about you order in, I need to lie down.” Y/N said, holding her stomach.
“Whatever you want, Mon ange.” Charles said. They left the practice, Alexandra took Y/N’s car and Y/N rode with Charles, both drove to his apartment. In the apartment, Y/N was taking a nap with Leo while Charles set up his laptop to talk to the media manager of Ferrari.
“Hello Charles, what did you want to talk about?” The manager asked.
“I need to tell you something. As you know, I am in a relationship with Alexandra, BUT it’s not only her, it’s her friend Y/N as well, all 3 of us are together.” Charles said.
“Okay, okay, okay, it’s 2024, it’s almost 2025, surely the public will be okay with a…it’s called a throuple, right?” He asked,
“Yes, yes, it’s a throuple. But that’s not the only thing I wanted to tell you about. Y/N is also pregnant.” Charles said.
“Let me get this straight; you want to post on your Instagram that you are in a polyamorous relationship and that you’re going to be a father?” He asked,
“Yes.” Charles said.
“You do understand the scrutiny that not only you will put yourself under, but your girlfriends as well?” The manager asked.
“I do, sir.” Charles responded.
“Very well then, post if you must.” The manager said before saying goodbye.
The next day, Y/N woke up to her phone ringing, turning over to see Alexandra is still sleeping, she answered the call.
“Good morning, am I speaking to Y/N L/N?”
“Yeah, this is she.” Y/N replied.
“Congratulations, you are 4 weeks pregnant, the first trimester is crucial so a healthy diet is recommended, have a great day.” The phone call ended. Y/N woke up Alexandra.
“Ma papillon, it’s a little early, don’t you think?” Alexandra asked.
Mi reina, the doctor’s office called, I am 4 weeks pregnant.” Y/N said and Alexandra kissed her before she pulled her in for a hug.
“Oh my god, we have to tell Charles, I mean it was obvious you’re pregnant but now it’s doctor official.” Alexandra was over the moon by the news. “Okay Um let’s get dressed and head to Charles’s apartment.” They got dressed and Alexandra drove to Charles’s apartment.
Alexandra opened the door and Leo scrambled to say hello. Walking in further, they heard the shower running and stopping. Charles walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Mon ange, ma Belle, what are you doing here?” Charles asked.
“I’m 4 weeks pregnant.” Y/N said and Charles hugged her, twirling her around and putting her down.
“That’s amazing, I’m going to be a dad, oh my gosh, we need to make a diet plan for you, I’ll call Andrea and ask what should we buy.” Charles said pacing around the room. “Should you be taking prenatal vitamins?”
“I have to ask my doctor after the first ultrasound in a few weeks. But yeah, call Andrea for a meal plan.” Y/N said, “I’m gonna use your bathroom.” While Y/N went to the bathroom, Charles took to Instagram.
charlesleclerc many of you know my beautiful girlfriend, Alexandra. Most of you also know her best friend Y/N, who is also my beautiful girlfriend. The three of us are in a throuple or polyamorous relationship, however you want to call it. They are the loves of my life and if I am going to be a father, I thought it was time for the mother of my child, my other girlfriend, to be known.
Comments have been disabled
“Wow, can’t believe you did it.” Alexandra said when she saw his Instagram. “Oh I love that photo of Y/N, she’s so beautiful.” Alexandra said.
“Yeah, I am all in, I am not hiding Y/N anymore.” Charles said and his phone started ringing. “It’s my mom.”
“You didn’t think of telling her she’s a grandma before Instagram?” Alexandra asked.
“I didn’t think, okay.” Charles said before answering his phone. “Bonjour, maman.”
Over the past few weeks leading up to the ultrasound, Charles and Alexandra have been googling what pregnant women should be eating, have been calling their mothers to ask how their pregnancies were, Charles even bought parenting books.
“You think it’s too soon for the baby to be hearing music?” Charles asked.
“I don’t think the baby has ears yet.” Alexandra said. “You’re like 9 weeks pregnant, it’ll take another 7 weeks for the baby’s ears to actually work, it says it all here.” Alexandra said pointing to her laptop screen.
“You two are fussing and I’m not even showing.” Y/N said.
“Well we want the baby to be healthy. Would you be Leclerc Saint Mleux L/N or Leclerc L/N Saint Mleux?” Charles asked,
“We’re not even married!” Y/N exclaimed laughing.
“Oh he is just excited. Your appointment is in an hour, we should get going.” Alexandra said.
To the OBGYN! Y/N was allowed to bring Charles and Alexandra since the doctor knows they’re situation. She lifted up Y/N’s shirt and placed gel on Y/N’s stomach, she shuddered from how cold it was. She got the “wand” and rubbed it over the gel.
“And here’s your baby.” The doctor said, Charles and Alexandra started tearing up, as was Y/N.
“It’s so small.” Charles giggled,
“I can’t believe it.” Y/N said.
“I am so happy.” Alexandra said.
“Well congratulations on becoming parents to a healthy baby.” The doctor said.
The End
Hope y’all liked it! I know it was a little long but hopefully it’s a good read
#hispanic reader#hispanic#latina#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#alexandra saint mleux#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine
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do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx
'No location found'
pairing: peter parker x reader
a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!
warnings: none
masterlist, requests are open !!
“That’s not what I said!”
“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”
You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again.
You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him. The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.
“Y/N please-”
“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”
His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”
You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.
“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.
Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”
Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away.
“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion.
“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged.
'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”
“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.
He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad.
“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”
You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”
There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.
You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.
After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch.
Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.
I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it.
You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-
You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved.
You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.”
“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”
“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.
“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place.
“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her.
“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”
“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”
You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight.
You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already.
You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything.
“Peter! I need real criticism!”
“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”
You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book.
Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving.
He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though.
He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.
That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you.
He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together.
On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more.
He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter.
Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten.
He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge.
“Went out. Be home late.”
His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.
All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.
Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly.
He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe.
An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response.
It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird.
He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail.
What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.
This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-
He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay. He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start.
He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that.
“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away.
“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”
“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred.
“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay.
“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.
He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”
“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”
Peter let out a sigh of relief.
“Or, she was.” He held his breath again.
“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”
“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.
He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”
“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”
His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault.
“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated.
“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.
He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.
There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you.
You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe.
You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit.
On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home.
Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away.
Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.
You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.
“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.
“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer.
Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”
“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”
“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little.
You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead.
“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”
“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face.
He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”
You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”
“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.
“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”
You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.
He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.
You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”
You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”
He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”
You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!”
“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again.
“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.
“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging.
#peter parker#writing#tom holland#andrew garfield#marvel#fanfic#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#peter x you#peter parker imagines#peter parker angst#peter parker x reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker writing#avengers x reader#avengers#the avengers#tom holland!peter parker x reader#mcu!spiderman x reader#mcu!peter parker#mcu!peter parker x reader#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland angst#fanfiction#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader
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the past week or so i’ve been chewing on a DE sequel idea for funsies. the basic premise is a week after the Hanged Man case, Harry goes missing and Jean goes to Kim for help since he was the last person to spend a significant amount of time with him post-amnesia. You play as Kim with Jean as your partner.
I wanted to come up with new outfits for them. Kim doesn’t seem like the type to wear random stolen clothes, so instead he’d have a few sets of clothes you can put him in from the start. I also liked the idea of being able to change Jean’s clothes and have certain sets impact Kim’s stats (e.g. wearing matching uniforms boots your authority for looking like a cohesive unit)
i’ve been calling it Video Revachol 🤓 cuz disco = to learn and Disco Elysium = To Learn Elysium. Video = to see, so Video Revachol = To See Revachol; the story would involve tracking down Harry all over Revachol, starting at the Video Revachol rental store he kept having nightmares about.
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Here's a digital sketch dump of some pose/anatomy practices and some 2hu doodles, I think from now on if I don't have any big final piece to post, I'll just post sketches I liked that I did digitally (might also reblog some drawings of mine that I want more people to see, maybe idk).
Artist's Notes:
Ok so after the recent Hifuu fanart I did, I've been hoping to experiment more with how I draw faces, how I render, as well as how I stylize things. In some of the earlier sketches I did, I had an idea for a pose that I wanted to try drawing, so I took a ref pic of myself doing said pose (the leaning one btw) and then did a sketch over top of it just to get an idea for the shapes, negative space, and silhouette. After that, I wanted to do some simpler breakdowns of the shapes so I can get better at simplifying the body (these ended up being the bottom right sketches in the post). I also did some experimenting with how to push certain parts of said sketches to create a different body type (via liquify and then a more refined version based on that sketch), as well as figuring out what makes a pose feel natural and not stiff. This was also a bit of a foreshortening practice just so I can get more confident with it, and I ended up using the arms from the liquified version for the coloured Zanmu sketch I did since I liked them so much (dw I'll get to that).
The next thing I wanted to try and draw was Hisami, mainly because.... I am very bad at drawing her in my style. Last time I drew her I made her look really creepy and spindly, and it is my headcanon now that she can switch between a more human, and more creepy look whenever she wants. I'm liking where the face is going a lot, might have to refine a few things about it in the future, but it's cute (I also made the blush purple which I think is what I'm gonna do with her face from now on). I also like how her hair in the sketch turned out a lot, but the outfit..... not as much... Ever since I started changing my style to something less cartoony, I've had a hard time drawing her outfit in my style. Especially the flower veil thing she has on, which, I did try to find a way to draw, but I ended up deleting that sketch because I didn't like it. I'm also not a fan of using the colour purple, like, pure purple, magentas are fine, indigos are fine, but not strict purple. I also have a hard time with drawing all the little pattern details on her dress. I also need to find a way to draw the flower veil in a way that looks good because everytime I try it ends up just looking off (very similar to whenever I try to draw Zanmu's blue spears). I think the only solution to this problem is to do what I normally do and make my own version of the outfit, but with adjustments to suit my style while still trying to keep core elements from the original design intact (like I do with Zanmu and Keiki, and yes I am going to get to that Zanmu drawing just gimme a minute).
Ok next up is Keiki, my favourite Touhou character who I haven't drawn since the beginning of the year. Since my style has changed a lot, I wanted to just do a face sketch of her to get a hang of drawing her again, and I..... really really like how it turned out! When I drew her eyes, I realized that a good way of keeping faces too same facey can be via varying the sizes of their pupils, so that's an idea I'm gonna keep in mind from now on. I had a lot of fun with her hair, I initially was gonna do it like how it is in the official art, but I ended up not liking it, so now I'm gonna draw Keiki with wavy heir like this because it's fun and it looks nice. I also included my base sketch for Keiki's face since I was initially struggling with drawing her bandanna, and in the coloured sketch I added some more detail into her hair.
Now to finally talk about the sketches for Zanmu. Good lord was I having a tough time with her face. I also did this sketch before I figured out how I wanted to draw hair, so that's why the rendering on her hair is different (I did this soon after the Hisami sketch actually). Since I changed my art style a lot, I had to find a way to translate her face from my more cartoony style to my more detailed style, so while the face shape, nose shape and mouth was fine, I was really struggling with the eyes. I did get somewhere eventually though, and I am super happy with how it turned out. I wanted to lean more towards the androgynous side of the gender presentation spectrum, mainly because I think that makes sense for her character. Also made sure to include the silver hairs and some wrinkles just to bring some signs of her aging into her face because those are just staple features of how I draw Zanmu at this point lol. You will also notice that I gave her some scars on the right side of her face, and that's because I am a Zanmu-with-scars truther, I fucking love it whenever I see someone give Zanmu visible scars like that it just adds so much omg (I also tried to put a wolf bite mark on her arm in the full body drawing but idk if it reads well). While you can argue that her not having scars sells the idea of her being this "powerful, untouchable mastermind who is impossible to defeat," I'd say that instead of those scars representing times she got injured, they represent everyone who has failed to defeat her.
As I was drawing Zanmu's face, I referenced my sketch of to help with contrasting their features since I made Keiki's face more traditionally feminine. I also didn't mention this in my commentary on Keiki's face because I wanted to save it for here, but giving Zanmu scars also plays into the fact that she used to be human, wheras Keiki doesn't have any scars because she's a god who doesn't follow the rules of normal human biology. Plus I'm thinking about the two of them interacting again (return of Zan/Keik??? (I'm a multishipper btw) maybe???) so drawing their faces together will definitely help me in the future if I wanna draw them together (again, maybe as a ship? I've kinda been ironing out the kinks in their potential interactions (romantic and non-romantic) for a while now so idk maybe expect that in the future lol).
And now for the full body drawing, when I was doing the face sketch I did this little snippet of an outfit, had a vision, and the made it into a reality. I'll admit, part of me was worried that it would end up looking too much like Yuugi's outfits in the spinoffs and mangas, but I feel like I made enough changes to differentiate them. I tried to keep a few of the major details in Zanmu's design (i.e. the red tassles and yellow lining on her shirt) while putting a new spin on it. I also dialed up the scars to 11 since without them the whole thing kinda looked incomplete. Also, while I could say that the leaves on her kimono are "a nod to the fact that technically she should be a tengu because back then people belived that corrupt monks would turn into tengu but no Zanmu is an oni and they're maple leaves because...tengu...ahahahaha" what really ended up happening was that I looked up clothing patterns from Sengoku era Japan, liked the leaves the most because the red picked up on the red from the rest of her design and just ran with it. I also always had the idea to put Zanmu in men's clothing from Sengoku era Japan and while the accurate thing to do would be to put her in a Buddhist's clothes from that era.... from a character standpoint, I don't think Zanmu is pious enough to strictly wear the proper monk uniform, and also since she's basically the king of Hell, she would probably dress herself like royalty from that era. TBH, I probably could've been a bit more historically accurate, but again, this was mainly for conceptual purposes because I had a vision and I needed to see it through.
If I were to draw her in this sort of outfit again, I should probably try and use more references, although now that I look at it, if she were to wear it properly this would maybe, probably look a bit closer to a Kyūtai sugata (a very huge stretch, but it just kinda reminds me of that) just without the layers under and over the main piece of clothing (In the website that I searched up to try and compare the outfit in my sketch to, they name the outfit pieces but don't label them on the image, so I don't know 100% what everything is called) so I will definitely have to use that style of clothing as a reference going forward.
Also, I was kind of inspired by the ToTK design for Ganondorf since I have finished the game a while ago and I absolutely love what they did with his design (it's just so fucking cool omg) and I thought that sort of look would look good on Zanmu, so yeah got some inspo from that.
And those were all the notes for each of the sketches, I'm motivated to draw rn but kinda art blocked, so doing these little coloured sketches helps a lot.
#touhou project#art#fanart#sketches#sketch dump#zanmu nippaku#keiki haniyasushin#hisami yomotsu#touhou 19#touhou 17#unfinished dream of all living ghost#wily beast and weakest creature
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The Prank
A/N: my first formula fic!! My requests are open if you have someone you want me to write for!
Arthur Leclerc x Norris Reader
Trope: Dumbasses (best friends to lovers)
Warnings: Swearing, kissing, nothing else really
This is based of something I was on Twitter (I refuse to call it X): person a says “I came up with a good prank”. Person b asks what it is, a says “we should kiss”. B says “I don’t get it”, a says “imagine them walking in to see us kissing and just being like “WHAAAAAT??” B says “oh, that’s hilarious. We totally should”
Synopsis: You and Arthur have been best friends since he saved you from a bully when you were kids. You grew up in the Leclerc household, so they knew you very well. You followed Arthur around the world for his racing career. You guys had been given the nickname "Terrible Two's" for all the pranks you pulled around the paddock. Sometimes you pulled them on each other, sometimes you teamed up and pulled pranks together but there was one prank that really topped off the rest of your pranks.
"Y/N!!!" Arthur shouted from the shower in your shared bedroom. He walked out as you hit record on your phone, filming as he appeared. He had his towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, his hair was dyed a deep red with remnants of the dye dripping down his chest. "Seriously?" he scolded "I have to go to the Ferrari pit tomorrow and my hair is bright red!" You could see the fury in his eyes as you laughed. "Yeahhhh, you're gonna be matching the cars". He crossed his arms over his muscly chest and scowled "Stop filming me, idiot" you rolled your eyes and chucked "Whatever, moron" you said as you stopped recording. You posted it to your story, with the caption "Ready for @ scuderiaferrari tomorrow!" and tagged him in it.
You heard Arthur's phone buzz from the vanity in the bathroom as he headed back in to dry off. You stood up to pack up a bit from your day, getting as ready as you can for tomorrow. This time he came out in a pair of checkered sleep pants, saw you stand up in front of your suitcase and lunged at you, tackling you into the bed. You shrieked as he started assaulting (tickling) you. "St-st-op Art- arty" giggled out. "You turned me red, then posted it for the whole fucking world to see. You deserve this" After successfully kicking him onto the floor, you noticed your phone vibrating in your pocket.
You swiped accept on the call as you answered "Ah, my favourite Leclerc brother. What can I do for you Charlie?" You heard Arthur shout and "Oi" from the floor, making Charles laugh. "I just needed to see Arthur's hair" he grinned. You flipped the camera around and showed a Shirtless, red-haired Arthur lying on his back on the ground. Charles burst out laughing "good to see the support, brother" he got out in between laughter. "I'll leave you to whatever you're doing, y/n. Thank you so much for Arthur's hair" he chuckled as you said goodbye and he hung up. You leaned over the side of the bed, making eye contact with the boy on the floor "wanna get Charles tomorrow?" you asked him. "The day I say no is the day the world ends" he replies. You laughed as you rolled under your covers, Arthur standing up and getting into the bed next to yours, agreeing to come up with the prank tomorrow.
I was lying awake in bed, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how Arthur came out of the shower earlier, his glorious torso on display, towel so low you could see his v-line. All I wanted to do was go over and kiss him silly, he’s so hot when he’s cranky. My crush on his has lasted years and he has no idea. I couldn’t ever tell him, it would ruin our friendship and I don’t ever want to lose him. If we’re friends forever then so be it. I put my earbuds in and put on a good playlist, drifting off to my favourite song.
I woke up the next morning with a crushing weight on my chest and hair tickling my nose. It wasn’t until I felt the fingers tickling my ribs thats I started wriggling around, trying to get the giant on my body. “Arty what the fuck” I grumbled “I was having a really good sleep you prick”. He chuckled and rolled off me, lying next to me a pulling me body into his. I looked up, nearly bumping his nose with mine. I was really hoping he couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating. “We have a prank to plan”
After you finished getting ready, you hopping in the car with Arthur and headed towards the paddock, brainstorming pranks in the car. “I came up with a brilliant one” Arthur tells you. “Ooo what is it?” My curiosity peaked. We haven’t been able to think of any good ones for Charles all morning. “We should kiss” he said nonchalantly. If I had a drink I would have choked on it, instead I stuck to internally freaking out while my heart started beating out of my chest. “Umm what? I don’t get it. How is that a good prank?” I stutter.
Arthur laughs “just think about it. He walks into his drivers room to find his younger brother and childhood best friend making out, our hands all over each other. You could sit on my lap and we could really go to town, Charles would walk in and freak out. He might even faint!” It hurt a little to think that Arthur only wanted to kiss me for a pranks, but there ain’t no way I’m passing up and opportunity to kiss my crush, even if it isn’t supposed to mean anything.
“Ohhh I get it, that’s would be fucking hilarious. We just have to time it really well and make sure no one sees us go in there” I add on. Arthur agrees “that’s it then, the perfect prank” I chuckle at his declaration. We pull up the paddock, scan our passes and make our way in, making small talk with people but never straying too far from each other.
We saw Charles doing some media before he needed to go in and change into his fireproofs and race suits. I tapped on Arthur’s and should and pointed at his brother, explaining my thinking. I agreed and we rushed inside the Ferrari garage, making our way to the drivers room. I hung around the front of it, keeping an eye out Charles so we could start making out at the perfect time.
A huge group of people made their way, signalling that Charles was moving closer. You could hear him and Carlos talking about the track as they came closer. I quickly slipped into his drivers room, finding Arthur already sitting on the bench. I walked over to him as he patted his lap, “hang on” I semi whispered. I could hear that Charles and Carlos had stopped walking, they couldn’t have been too far from the doors. Once I could hear Charles getting louder I looked back at Arthur, “you ready Arty?” I asked. He nodded and pulled me into his lap.
I moved me knees to go on their side of this body, my right hand slide to the back of neck, sliding my hand though his hair and I grabbed a handful of his fluffy hair. My left hand sling around his broad shoulders. His left hand dipped under my shirt to hold my waist, his other hand wound around my neck. He offered me a kind smile as he used the hand around my back to guide me towards his lips.
It started with small pecks, quickly moving to Arthur slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring while he got the opportunity. Moved myself closer to him, gripping his hair harder which caused him to let out a low moan. I heard the door to the driver room open as I kept making out with my best friend. The hand around my neck moved to ass, moving me to grind on him a bit.
Charles and Carlos stood in the doorway, dumbfounded before Carlos turned to Charles and said “told you they had a thing for each other, cabrõn” and walked off. Charles stared at his friend as he walked off. He looked back at us, still making out as he walked in. He slammed the door shut, making us jump. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you making out? Why are you doing it in my drive room? Oh my god I need to sit down” he rambled.
I got off Arthur as we started cackling, Arthur turned to me and said “told you it was a good prank, he’s absolutely freaking out” I laughed and looked back at Charles. He looked at us like we just old him Santa wasn’t real. “Wait, this is a prank?” He asked as we nodded “I thought I wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur whine about you anymore y/n but this is going to make it so much worse” I was about to ask something when Arthur grabbed my arm and dragged me out.
Once we got outside the garage I stopped Arthur. “Hang on, Arty. Just stop for a second” he stared at the floor. “What did Charles mean when he said you were whining about me?” I asked him. He tried to deflect the question and walk off. I grabbed his hand, turning him to me and lifting his head the make eye contact with me, asking my question again.
Arthur sighed, putting his hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It wasn’t desperate like the previous make out. It was slow and loving. “I don’t really know to say this, now that Charles has outed me, but I’ve liked you for years. The more than best friends kinda like. The reason I came up with that kissing prank was to get the chance to kiss you, even if it is supposed to be to mean nothing.”
Arthur kept rambling, struggling make eye contact. He looked at him, then smashed your lips into his “I like you more than I best friend should too. I have for years” you smile against Arthur’s lips as he kissed you.
#arthur leclerc fluff#arthur leclerc x reader#arthur leclerc x reader fluff#arthur leclerc x y/n#arthur leclerc#f1#f2#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#leclerc
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Ignored
Summary: Based on two requests; You had been best friends with Jacaerys since you were kids. But when he gets a girlfriend and joins the football team in college your whole life gets turned upside down and he's suddenly ditched you. A year after you are confronted by him and emotions spill to the surface.
w.c: 2.7k
c.w: Porn with plot, sub!jace, hand job, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), car sex, im not good at angry sex or mean stuff guys so sorry,
masterlist
One year. one fucking year since you’ve last spoken to him. You never imagined the two of you would end up like this.
He gets on the college football team and gets some hot girlfriend and suddenly he’s too good for you. You doubt he’s even noticed. It was slow to start, he started being busy during your weekly hang outs, then it would slip his mind to text you back, then he just suddenly stopped texting you. You had been replaced, you would always spend the holidays with his family but this past year you had seen Lucerys post on his insta holiday pictures and she was there instead. Everyone else in his family had reached out to you at some point. usually something along the lines of a happy holidays and that they hoped to see you soon, that they missed you. They even wished you happy birthday. He didn’t.
You had gotten to the point you stopped answering his family's texts, it made you feel sick when Lucerys asked if you would come to his birthday party and you didn’t have the heart to reply to him. You stopped checking their socials, even going as far as to mute them but you didn’t have the heart to unfollow them. then it would get too real, that the people you’ve considered family since you were basically a baby were no longer around.
You wish you didn’t miss him. You wish when started at your aunts gravestone he was not the face that appeared in your mind when you wished you had someone to comfort you. She had died six months ago, you hadn’t even bothered to text him about it. He met her a couple times, but its not like he would care now.
You do not cry for her anymore. Having come far enough in your grief, but you feel yourself come to a halt when you are walking through the graveyard and are stopped by a familiar family.
“Y/n?” You feel a knot grow in your throat. Why were they here? you could see lucerys was holding some flowers. “Hello.” What else are you supposed to say? You are frozen in place as lucerys walks over and throws his arms around you. “I missed you.” You try not to let your tears spill down your face as Lucerys pulls back and looks at you alarmed, “Are you okay?”
You laugh and cover your face with your hands, unable to even describe what you’re feeling. “You’re so tall.” Your voice cracks as you speak and he slaps you on the shoulder. “’Course i am, had to get taller than mr prince charming over there.”
You don’t want to look at him. You wish he was not even there. But you cannot help yourself the way your eyes drift to where Lucerys is referring to and you wish you hadn’t. He is as beautiful as he was the last day you saw him, he looks like he just came out of a romcom, a long trench coat covering him and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. You have no clue what he’s thinking, his face giving nothing away, cant take your eyes off him. The way his eyes have a gloss over them as he takes a couple steps towards you.
You swiftly turn away from his and notice rhaenyra standing at your side and she reaches out a grips your forearm. “It is so wonderful to see you dear.” You nod and smile at her, “It is always a pleasure Ms. Targaryen.” she hits your arm, “You stay away for a couple months and suddenly I’m Ms. Targaryen, call me rhaenyra dear you know better.” You want to correct her, tell her its been over a year. yet you don't, only nodding and apologizing to her.
“What are you doing here?” Its the first words he’s said to you in god knows how long. You swear your knees almost crumple at the sound of his voice. You want to punch him, spit in his face, you wish you hated him. “My aunt died.” You spit at the ground, you voice coming out angrier than you indented it to.
The people around you immediately flood around to give their condolences. You thank them, Lucerys especially kept you in a deep hug and mentioned how they came today to see rhaenyra's father but they'll make sure to stop by your aunt’s grave.
He says nothing. nothing at all. You hate him. You hate him so much. But you cant say no when they ask if you’ll join them to see viserys and your aunt. you cant even say no when they offer you to join them for dinner.
you two say nothing to each other, not until you say you’ll drive in your car on the way there and turn to walk towards it, still having the map to their house memorized until you are stopped, a hand gripping on your forearm.
“Can i ride with you?” You don't turn around to look at him. Continuing to stare straight ahead, your heart and head churning. You want to tell him no, that you don't wish to ever even see him again. “Please.”
“Fine.”
But you're a pussy. the biggest punk in the whole world as you watch him slide into the passenger seat as you close the drivers door. A silence fills the space between you two, you don't want to speak, a part of you hopes it will stay that way.
“What happened with us?” You harshly break at the red light and whip your head towards him. Rage boiling at your skin as you hiss at him, “What happened? What do you mean what happened? You're the one who ditched me!”
“What the fuck are you taking about?” “Oh so you’re just gonna act like you didn't fucking stop talking to me after you a girlfriend? What is her name? i don't even fucking know because you never introduced us.” A loud honk behind you forced you to turn your head away from him and back on the road, you swear your knuckles turned white from the pressure you were squeezing it.
“i-” “No. Because you know what Jace. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid face and your stupid girlfriend and your stupid friends because you fucking left me. You have no reason to sit around and ask me what the fuck happened between us because it was all because of you. i put in the effort to reach out i even sent you a fucking gift for your birthday because you couldn't spare the time to hang with me and you don't even text me a happy fucking birthday?!? Fuck you man.”
Your hands slam down on the wheel in frustration as you clench your jaw, the fucking nerve of this guy. You don’t even spare him another glance and he doesn't dare to say anything else for awhile. the drive is long, they were buried far out from your homes so the drive was over an hour.
it takes twenty minutes before he says anything. “I’m sorry.” It comes out strained, if you looked at him he would probably be crying but you do not dare look at him. “I wish i could explain to you why i did it, why i acted like that. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry i just think i liked the attention, i liked having people fawn over me. And her, fuck i don't know, i liked her sure, but she fucking cheated on me with one of the guys on the team, told me she only got with me to get closer to him. Its not an excuse, i should have never put what we had down the drain for someone that never really mattered because you, you matter to me more than anyone else. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, ill say it forever because i don't deserve your forgiveness.”
You pull over into a road side parking lot because you couldn't see the road anymore. Your eyes filled with tears as your shoulders shook with silent sobs, “I am sorry i made you feel this way, that you couldn't even come to me when she died, i liked it, i remember she gave me the toy car display i still have in my room fuck i can't even imagine how you must feel. I miss you. I miss you so much.”
You put your head against the wheel and allow yourself to sob. This is all you’ve wanted to hear for so long that now you have no clue how to feel. You want to tell him to fuck off. That he has no reason to be begging for your forgiveness now.
“Jacaerys,” You swear you hear it wrong, that you must be confused. He whimpers. “No please,” “Its dragged out in a way that has your stomach churning and you shift in your seat. “Don’t call me Jacaerys, Jace please.”
You must be strong. You cannot give into to his sad puppy eyes and cries. Yet you look over to him and feel your resolve crumble. He has tears streaming down his face. He’s looking at you. Has he been looking at you this whole time? “You left me Jace.” He lets out a trembled breath as he dares with shaky hands to grab yours. “I'm sorry. I will beg you to forgive me till the end of time because i will never deserve it. I need you.”
Your heart pounds against your chest as the two of you stare at one another. You feel your hands shake in his grip as the two of you unknowingly move closer to each other.
“I realized after i found out what she had done i was more upset about the fact you were not there more than anything. She had begged me to take her back but the only thing i could think about was you. I was so stupid and so blind i will never forgive myself. You are everything to me.”
“Jace,” He cups your cheeks and lets out a trembled breath, “I was a fool to let you go. I will never make that mistake again,” You cannot believe what is happening, he does not truly mean what you think he’s saying does he? “I had months to think it over. I am so madly in love with you. If you do not feel the same i will act like this never happened and we can just go back to being friends or even if you cannot stomach being around me we can just never talk but-”
He lets out a surprised moan as you shove your lips against his and eagerly pressed his lips against yours. He a lot more vocal than you had expected him to be, eagerly humming against your lips as his hands have moved to your neck.
He lets out a shocked gasp when you push him back into his seat and looks at you with wide eyes as you climb over his lap, pulling the level to have him lay over his back and simply stare at him as you hover above him. He whimpers as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards your face, “This is for me. Not you. Right?” He eagerly nods, more than willing to take anything you’ll give him.
He whines as you unbutton his black dress pants and waste no time shoving your hand past his boxers and gripping onto his dick. His head is thrown backwards as you rub your thumb against his tip, ignoring his mumbles until enough precum has dripped down onto your hand before you begin vigorously pumping him up and down.
You do not stop even as he’s asking you to slow down. Well you do, but it is always right before he’s about to come. You do this again. and again. and again. He feels like he’s about to burst, the stimulation is too much for him to bare.
“Please.” You tilt your head at him as he grips the front of your button down shirt. “What do you want?” Your words are spoken like he a stranger approaching you on the street, he whimpers and shoves his head into your chest, his tears threatening to spill out. “Please,”
“awe are you so fucked out you have no clue what you’re talking about huh?” He’s babbling nonsense as you feel his tears pool into your shirt. You fully remove your hands off him for the fourth time and he thinks he might crack. “Please no I’m sorry I’m sorry please please just let me,,” His words trail off as he watches you fully release him from his pants and boxers, his breath shaky as he watches you pool up your shirt and move to hover above him.
“Please please.” “Shut the fuck up.” He whimpers as his tip presses against your folds but you don’t him in enter yet, simply allowing his tip to be dragged up and down your slit. He throws his head back as the tears continue to flow down his face, he can’t take this, his hips rise up to try and thrust into you but you hold him down and spit at him. “You don’t know how to behave slut.”
He lets out a surprised gurgle of sounds when you suddenly slam all the way down onto him and lightly slap him across the face. “Are you happy now slut? You happy your little loser friend is fucking you stupid?”
He can barely speak as you begin to bounce up and down on him. He’s dreamed of this for much longer than he’d like to admit but this is much better than anything he could have imagined. The way your lightly let out sounds of delight are like music to his ears. He wishes he could say something but over the heat that flows over his body and the way he feels your hands slip under his shirt and begin to rub up and down his chest he can’t find the words.
He keeps his hands at his side, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you not wishing to upset you more than he already has. You notice the way his hands twitch and slightly raise as if he wants to reach out to you. You slow down for a moment to grab his hands and place them on your chest, a wordless exchange between the two of you as he stares at you in wonder. So much love fills his gaze you almost flush with embarrassment. You begin to pick up your pace once again as he fondles you over your clothes.
The pit grows larger in his stomach much faster than he would like but due to the overstimulation and the overflowing of emotions he’s on the edge. “I’m so close.”
“Hold it.” He whines and watches as one of your hands slip under your skirt, “You think you should be allowed to cum before me?” He shakes his head, of course not, he doesn’t deserve too.
He swears he almost cums from your blissed out face alone, but he is surprised he manages to contain himself until he feels you throb and your essence drips around him. You slowly lift off him and pump him until his cum drips down your hands.
The car windows are foggy, you have no clue how long you’ve been out here but the sun as begun to set as you allow yourself to fall against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically as his arms come to wrap around you.
“I don’t forgive you,” He feels his heart drop as he gulps, bracing himself for you to lift off him and drop him off at his house, never to speak to him again. “But i think i can one day, you just have to take me out on a couple dates first.”
He grins.
Perm Jacaerys taglist
@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd imagine#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys strong#prince jacaerys#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#jace x you#jace velaryon#jace targaryen#jace x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd x y/n#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house targaryen#jacaerys#modern hotd#modern jace#modern jacaerys
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“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” a soft voice suddenly startles him from his thoughts. Henry’s entire body jerks and he spills some of his drink down the front of his shirt.
“Oh, bloody-” He leans over to put his drink on the table and starts wiping at his shirt. “No, I’m- It’s not that, it’s-” He glances fleetingly at the stranger and then down at his shirt again, before his brain finally registers that oh, glasses, dark curls, white smile, exposed chest. Henry’s head snaps back up and his lips part in astonishment. Handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. Him.
“Hi,” the man says, then chuckles. He hands Henry a napkin and gestures towards one of the other chairs at the table. “Would you mind?”
or, Henry and Alex meet on vacation in San Francisco and an instant spark between them has both of them unable to let the other go. With only two weeks to spend together and the knowledge that it can't last beyond that, it's just a massive, insurmountable recipe for disaster.
Or is it?
Hiiiiii omg! ♥
So it's been so long since I posted anything, including WIP Wednesdays or Sentences Sundays, but it's because I was working so hard on this and I didn't want to spoil too much, haha! Anyway, here I am!
This is probably my proudest, most beloved work I've ever written. I'm so excited to finally share it with the world and I really hope you'll love it too!
I'll just tag my usual list of people below :) Have so much fun reading it and thank you so so so much for being patient with me ♥
@blueeyedgrlwrites @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @sparklepocalypse @kiwiana-writes
@happiness-of-the-pursuit @affectionatelyrs @indomitable-love @heysweetheart-writes @wordsofhoneydew
@firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @anchoredarchangel
@clottedcreamfudge @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @lostcol
@matherines @captainjunglegym @thinkof-england
@inexplicablymine @three-drink-amy @priincebutt @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes
@cha-melodius @i-am-freyja @itsmaybitheway
@saturntheday @bitbybitwrites @cactusdragon517
@ninzied @porcelainmortal @firstsprinces @suseagull04
#ao3#fanfic#red white and royal blue#rwrb#headabovethewater#wip: take me back to san francisco#fic: take me back to san francisco#ao3 author#fanfic authors#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#fandom#fanfiction#red white and royal blue movie#red white and royal blue fanfic#red white and royal blue fic#red white and royal blue fanfiction#rwrb fic#rwrb movie#rwrb henry#rwrb alex#rwrb book#rwrb film#rwrb fanfic#rwrb fanfiction#my fanfiction#my fic#wip#work in progress#fic rec
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