#idk why i'm tagging these as fic planning
Note
byler 22 for the touch prompts??
22 for touch prompts: falling asleep on the other's shoulder (+ bonus mini soundtrack that i listened to on repeat while writing this)
“Remind me again,” Mike says, as Will climbs into the passenger side of the car, “why we have to go to this thing today?”
Will gives him a look. Or his best attempt at a look anyway. He’s ninety percent sure they fall too flat to ever be effective, or Mike would have stopped saying stupid shit years ago. “This thing?” He struggles with the seatbelt for a moment before it finally clicks into place. “You mean your sister’s wedding? To my brother?”
Mike pulls a face. “If you want to get into the semantics,” he mumbles, adjusting the rearview mirror, and Will laughs.
“You’re ridiculous. It’s their wedding, Mike.”
“Rude to get married on a Saturday night,” Mike says, as if every wedding in the history of the world ever hasn’t taken place on a Saturday night. “Maybe some of us had things to do.”
“Yeah? What did you have going on?” Will asks, smoothing down the lapel of his suit. This jacket is a lint magnet like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he plucks a little piece of it away. “Hot date?”
Mike wiggles his eyebrows, and Will realizes immediately that this was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah,” Mike chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You.”
Despite himself, Will feels his cheeks turn red. It’s stupid, because he quite literally handed Mike the opportunity to say this on a silver platter, and it’s more dumb than any sort of flirtatious, except the unfortunate truth of dating Mike Wheeler is that he doesn’t even have to try and actually flirt to get Will blushing like a teenage girl. “I had that coming,” he admits, and Mike grins even harder than before. “And we didn’t have a date tonight.”
“We did! We were going to–”
“We can order pizza and watch TV when we get back, Mike,” Will chides, and, when Mike’s lower lip turns downward in something reminiscent of a pout, “this is Nancy’s wedding.”
“I was never Nancy’s favorite sibling,” Mike says noncommittally, releasing the parking brake, “she won’t even notice if I’m not there,” which one, is not true because Mike makes up about a third of Nancy’s bridal party so she will most definitely notice if he goes AWOL. And second, this is also not true because Will knows that Holly is currently in the throes of teenage angst, and Mike is still working on the angst but he’s moved on from the teenager part, at least, which is definitely earning him some points in Nancy’s book. So at worst, he’s tied with Holly. At least for the next couple of years.
And Will knows he’s not being serious anyway. For all of the fuss he’s kicking up, he knows Mike is happy for them. Will checks the backseat to make sure he put the presents in the car earlier that afternoon, and says, laughing, “Cold feet? It’s not even your wedding, Mike.”
“I know,” Mike moans, falling forward until his forehead hits the top of the steering wheel. “And it’s exciting! I’m happy for them! And your brother too, and I know your mom and Hop are so pumped, and– it’s just that I’m not so pumped about spending the evening with my family.”
Will suddenly feels very, very stupid. Jesus, he hadn’t even thought about that– about Mike’s parents being there, and his nana, the one that his mom had totally guilted Nancy into inviting because she might not live long enough to see Mike and Holly get married, Nancy, just let her have this. Which was kind of a depressing enough thought on its own, Will thinks, even without the entire conversation that had followed, the one he’d overheard Mike have on the phone in the living room, loud and frustrated before he’d slammed the phone down on the receiver hard enough for Will to hear it from their bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, then rests a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to them, okay, Mike? Just– hang out with us instead. I know Dustin’s been dying to break out his new dance moves.”
Mike cracks a tentative smile, then turns his face slightly so that one side of it is illuminated by the glow of the street lamps outside. “I’m scared he’s going to get driven away in a stretcher,” Mike admits, and Will grins.
“Yeah, probably. It’ll be a good distraction, at least. I’ll tell him to take one for the team.”
Mike nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Will hesitates, then drops his hand to Mike’s and slots their fingers together. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Look at me.”
Mike looks up the rest of the way. He looks incredible tonight, which is something Will’s been thinking ever since they’d started getting ready an hour ago, and at least half of the reason it took him so long was because he’d been totally distracted the whole time. Maybe Will is just biased, which is a little true, sure, but Mike should definitely wear suits more– and he’s officially taking it upon himself to make sure that Mike wears suits more– because suddenly he’s tempted to take Mike up on his offer of becoming a runaway best man and going back inside and collapsing on the couch and kissing him stupid into the early hours of the morning.
“What?” Mike is saying, eyebrows twisting a little self-consciously. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“You just look really nice,” Will says simply, and then, because that comes nowhere close to how good Mike looks in a tie, “no, actually, you look– wow.”
Mike’s lips twitch, but he looks a little pleased. “Wow? Really?”
“You’ve rendered me speechless,” Will nods rapidly, and Mike’s shy smile breaks into something more genuine. “You– look at you, I mean– I can’t even– wow.”
“Will,” Mike says, drawing out the single syllable until it feels big enough to fill up the whole car. “Okay, I look nice! You can stop playing it up now.”
His cheeks are turning red, slowly, visible even in the dim lighting of the street lamps through the windows, because it’s early fall and it’s started to get dark ridiculously early in the day. It feels like a victory, getting Mike flustered, even after a year of dating. Will smiles to himself.
“I’m not,” Will says, then leans in across the console. “Come here. I’ll prove it.”
“You’ll–” Mike gets out, eyes going wide in surprise, “–has anyone ever told you that you’re–”
Whatever it was that people may or may not have told Will is apparently a mystery that will die with the universe, because Will never finds out. He kisses Mike with one hand still holding his, threads a hand through his hair and cups his jaw. Soft. Slow. Unhurried, even though they should have left ten minutes ago and they’re going to be cutting it real close– Will can’t be bothered to rush.
Mike hums low in the back of his throat, pleased, and shifts closer. He’s pushing himself up over the console, a hand ghosting the side of Will’s neck, when–
Beeeeep.
“What–” Will jerks backwards, startled, and Mike immediately lets go of his hand. “Did you just–”
Mike rubs his elbow and moves further away from the wheel. “I got a little distracted,” he laughs, but the tension has ebbed from his shoulders a little and his eyes are creasing up at the corners, so Will considers this a mission success, thank you. “We should probably go?”
“Good idea,” Will says, then reaches over to smooth out a stray tuft of Mike’s hair that was– he thinks, a little proud of himself– definitely not out of place before. “And hey,” he adds, before Mike can take the car out of park. “Seriously. Ignore your parents. It’s not their wedding, okay, it’s Nancy’s. And Jonathan’s. And they both want us there. Together.”
Mike’s lips press together into a thin, determined line. “You’re right,” he nods, “I know, it’s just–”
“I know,” Will echoes, and Mike shoots him a grateful smile. “Now let’s go, or we really will miss the ceremony.”
—-
They don’t miss the ceremony, which is good, because having both the best man and the– whatever Mike was– would probably not be a good look for anyone involved.
“I can’t believe you cried,” Dustin says, after the toasts are done and the speeches are given and everyone’s been supplied with enough champagne to go a little loose and maybe a little tear-happy.
Mike scowls across the table at him. “I didn’t cry,” he insists, which is kind of pointless because Will had been watching him the whole time he’d been standing up there, shuffling his feet awkwardly in place at his designated spot in between Holly and Robin Buckley, and he’d definitely cried. Just a little, but he had.
“You did,” El chimes in primly, plucking at her shrimp cocktail. “I saw.”
“Thanks, El,” Mike mutters, sinking back in his chair a little and crossing his arms. “It’s– the vows were very emotional, okay, you’d have to be made of total stone to not tear up!”
“I didn’t cry,” Lucas announces, which is a fucking lie, by the way. Will saw him dabbing at his eyes in the bathroom on the way here.
“I think it’s sweet,” he says, instead of throwing Lucas to the dogs like he maybe should have. He flashes Mike a grin, leans over in his chair to bridge the space between them and squeezes his hand, once. “They were very sappy vows, to be fair.”
Mike blinks up at him from where he’s slumped down to somewhere around shoulder height. “You didn’t cry.”
“Oh, I did,” Will assures him. “I just cried in the back with Jonathan while he was getting ready.”
“Really?” Mike perks right up. “You did?”
“Yes,” Will laughs, “and I can’t believe you’re happy about it,” and then Mike grins so wide that Will can’t help but lean in the rest of the way and press a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek.
“You two are disgusting,” Lucas says, and he’s maybe one strike away from Will speaking up about the bathroom incident after all.
“Maybe so,” Mike relents, looking properly cheered up now. “What about it?”
Mike’s grip on Will’s hand never falters. Will feels himself turn warmer with every slow pass of Mike’s thumb over his knuckles, even with their hands tucked under the tablecloth and out of view. And it isn’t from the champagne. He’s had just the one glass with dinner, which is nothing, so it must be something else that’s making him feel like this. Something–
“You okay?” Mike murmurs as his thumb pauses, briefly, on the back of Will’s hand. “You got kind of quiet out of nowhere,” and yeah, there it is.
“I meant it,” Will says, lowering his voice so their friends can’t hear them from across the table. “What I said in the car, I mean. You look beautiful.”
It’s a little amusing just how fast Mike can turn such a violent shade of red. “You can’t just say that,” he splutters. “Give a guy some warning, Jesus, Will–”
“Mm, no,” Will decides smugly, watching the red creep down the collar of Mike’s carefully starched dress shirt. Then, because the soft lighting of the venue and the way Mike’s hair has started to fall free around his face is doing something funny to his chest and stomach, Will nods to the dance floor and says, “You wanna?”
Mike hesitates, looking over his shoulder. “Dance?”
Will shrugs, then looks over to where Jonathan and Nancy are trying– and failing, quite hilariously and miserably– at a dance of their own. “I mean, it’s a wedding, and people dance at weddings. Not that either of us are good at it, but it might be fun to try?”
Mike chews nervously at his lower lip and nudges Will’s foot with his own. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My mom was eyeing me earlier and I was totally avoiding her by hiding out over here but I feel like the dance floor is fair game for a–” he waves his hands around, “pseudo-confrontation. Nancy’s only three years older than you, blah, blah. When are you going to settle down, blah, blah. Even though I’m here with my boyfriend, which apparently doesn’t count for shit, and–” Mike sighs dejectedly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down, it’s just– I was having such a good day, too.”
Will squeezes Mike’s leg, just above the knee. “You were having a good day? Really? Even though your hot date got canceled?”
“Well,” Mike rolls his eyes. “My sister got married, and now my hot date is all dressed up and sweet-talking me, so I think this is even better than pizza on the couch.” He pauses, contemplating. “Actually, scratch that. It’s not. But it’s a close second,” Mike adds, then grins and picks Will’s hand up again. “Dance– later, maybe? I’m really enjoying this for right now.”
“Of course. Anything you want,” Will smiles, as the music in the background softens into something more mellow. He pulls his chair up so that it’s flush with Mike’s, their thighs pressed up together in one line, and passes Mike a flute of champagne from the table. “You might want to drink this, though, because your mom looks like she might be heading over here any second.”
“Thanks,” Mike groans, then knocks the whole thing back in one go.
—-
Will knows that a big fancy flashy wedding isn’t really Jonathan’s style, and he didn’t think it was Nancy’s either. Which is why he was surprised to get an invite to an event at all, because he’d honestly sort of thought they’d make a courthouse affair of it and then have everyone over for dinner or something. They’d been engaged for, like, three years, because it was career stuff and then more career stuff and then a couple months of long distance while Jonathan was doing some photojournalism thing in London, and Will had figured at some point that they’d get so tired of being engaged that they’d show up the next day with papers from City Hall and that would be that.
Apparently, though, in a not-so-surprising turn of events, Nancy Wheeler takes to event planning like a moth to flame, and Jonathan was immediately dragged along for the ride. He didn’t seem too upset about it, though, when Will had asked. “It’s Nancy,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. And maybe it did, because not too long after that, Will started dating Mike and everything immediately clicked.
Which is maybe the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. For anyone else, Will would not even entertain the thought of fussing over seating arrangements, and he’s certain he only knows, like, five types of flowers– if pink and red roses count as two different types. It’s Nancy, Jonathan had said, and Will hadn’t gotten it then but he does now.
Mike’s hand twitches on Will’s bicep, fingers clutching once at the fabric of his shirt. Will’s suit jacket lies abandoned on the chair behind them. Mike had leaned over maybe half an hour ago to rest his head on Will’s shoulder, as it got later in the night and guests started slowly trickling out of the room. And then, maybe fifteen or so minutes ago, his breathing had evened out, fingers slackening in their grip against his arm, and Will doesn’t know how the hell Mike can fall asleep in a room that’s filled with so much noise, but he can’t help but find it endearing– wholly, completely, embarrassingly endearing.
And he gets it, he does. It’s Mike, he thinks, chest flooding with warmth in a strange, hollowed-out way, like there’s nothing left inside him except this feeling. It’s Mike. It’s Mike. It’s–
“Hey, hon,” comes a voice behind him, and Will startles, just a little, then immediately relaxes.
“Oh, hey mom,” he whispers, and Mike’s hand twitches lightly against his arm again. Joyce gives him an amused look, glancing down at Mike, then back at Will.
“Did he fall asleep?” she asks, pulling up a chair next to them. “I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.”
Will feels himself smile before he actually realizes he’s doing it. “Yeah,” he snorts softly, “but I have no idea how.”
As if roused by some sixth sense, like he knew they were talking about him, Mike stirs, lifting his head off of Will’s shoulder and blinking blearily. “What–”
“Shh,” Will says, and Joyce bites back a smile. “Go back to sleep.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Mike says, and then yawns loud and conspicuously. “Shit– I’ve just been so tired this week, sorry, Will–”
“Don’t be,” he says immediately, even though his shoulder and arm are starting to fall asleep, just a little. Will drops a kiss to the top of Mike’s head, and feels him start to smile into his shoulder before stiffening, a little self-consciously, and glancing up at Joyce.
“Um–”
“Oh,” his mom waves a hand, “don’t mind me. You two are so sweet. You remind me of Nancy and Jonathan after they started dating. Jonathan would turn so red, but maybe not as red as you’re turning right now, Will–”
“Mom!”
“Red?” Mike perks up, and then, “Oh you are turning red!”
“Shut up,” Will mumbles, but he’s sure it’s not convincing in the slightest. “Did you come over here just to embarrass me?”
Joyce puts two hands up in the air like hey, don’t look at me. “I was just going to let you know that Hop and I are taking off,” she says, eyes sparkling. “He has the early shift tomorrow, but Mike, now that I’ve caught you– your speech was wonderful. Really. Jim was tearing up and he told me to never let you find out but I figured you’d want to know.”
Mike blinks. He still looks a little out of it, still a little red from sleep or the champagne from earlier, but he smiles, sudden and pleased. “Really?”
“Don’t tell him I told you,” Joyce grins conspiratorially. “But yes. It was very sweet.”
“Thanks Mrs. Byers,” Mike says, the words stretching into another yawn, quieter this time. He groans lightly, then pushes himself off of Will’s shoulder and sits back up.
Will peers over at him. “Are you tired? You want to head back?”
Mike rubs at his eyes with both hands, blinks a few times in rapid succession, then shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the sleep out of his body, like it’s a physical thing. “No,” he smiles, and it’s a little bit tired, but he looks happy. “No, not yet.”
“Okay,” Will whispers, and he’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he can’t help it. That’s the common denominator here, between every interaction he ever has with Mike– that he’s so happy that he just can’t help it. “You still want to get pizza on the way back?”
“God, yes please,” Mike groans in relief. “Um. No offense, but wedding food is just– like what the hell, man, I’m starving. That was nothing.”
“Pizza it is,” Will agreed easily, mentally making a pros and cons list of getting a large and having leftovers or saving money and going for a medium. “Pepperoni?”
“Anything goes,” Mike is saying, and then Joyce clears her throat.
“Well,” she says, snapping her purse shut and smiling. “Hop and I are heading out but– oh, drive safe you two. Eat a slice for me, actually, I’ve been craving pizza all week.”
“Bye, mom,” Will smiles, craning his neck upwards as she plants a kiss on top of his head.
“You too,” she says to Mike, who barely has time to blink in surprise before his mom is dropping a kiss on his forehead. She rests a hand on his shoulder briefly as she smiles and says, “I’d welcome you to the family, Mike, but you’ve been a part of it for years already.”
“I– bye, Mrs. Byers,” Mike says faintly, eyes wide, as Joyce waves goodbye. He turns back to Will. “Part of the family? Really?”
“It’s what you get for dating your best friend,” Will murmurs, glancing out over the rapidly emptying room before tugging on Mike’s arm until he falls into him with a small, startled noise. “You get smothered by my mom.”
“I wouldn’t call it smothering,” Mike laughs, eyes darting down to Will’s mouth. He swallows, and says, softly, “Plus, I like your family. No complaints from me.”
Will hums, soft. “I’m sorry about– you know. How did that go?”
“Nancy said she survived mom and dad with minimal damage,” Mike laughs drily. “And nana too. And I managed to avoid them long enough that they didn’t have a chance to ambush me, so.”
“Good,” Will says, kissing Mike softly on the corner of his mouth, then again, right over the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s a little warm, a little loose and pliant from sleep, and he moves easily, tucking a finger into the loop of Will’s tie and pulling him in closer. Their knees bump against each other under the tablecloth, chair legs scraping gently across the polished floor as Will leans forward. “I’m glad,” Will says into the kiss, and Mike smiles.
“Me too,” Mike whispers, tucking his hands into Will’s hair and pulling away, just barely. “Because now they’re gone and all of our annoying cursory invite relatives are gone and it’s just you and me– and Nancy, and Jonathan, and El and Lucas and– whatever. I think I owe you a dance.”
There’s something slow and melodic playing as Nancy and Jonathan make the last of their rounds, most of the tables empty and the dance floor cleared out. Will grins, kisses Mike one more time for good measure, then stands up. “Okay,” he agrees, “but I’m leading.”
“I don’t think it makes a difference, because neither of us can–”
“I’m leading,” Will says again, and Mike chuckles, shaking his head.
“Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Will.”
#oh this got away from me#this really really got away from me#parker the actual prompt part is so minor i'm so sorry i had a vision for this and then it got away from me so bad#idk why i thought jancy wedding but the thought popped into my head and i just went with it#something so personal to me is jancy deciding to have a courthouse wedding but then nancy gets into planning like music and food and stuff#nothing fancy like she's not a bridezilla by any means#but they end up having a small ceremony n reception with just their family n close friends#like the extended party + jopper#and on nancy's side her parents wheedle her into inviting a few other relatives like aunts n cousins but it's still iike 25-30 people max#anyways these tags got so long and weren't even byler#parker i hope u like this !!!#probably is not even what u had in mind but . Yeah#byler#mike wheeler#will byers#fic#fun sized fics
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a compilation of some OC x canon shenanigans
(most of which I whipped up for @theocxcanonweek week the past week on twitter :^] )
#i wanna render these but my fingers are so tsundere towards my tablet (tendonitis is that bitch)#my genki x shy sapphics and my aspec middle aged ppl...#to this day idk why i chose these characters for my OCs but i'm really satisfied with my choices lol#and i'm gonna tag the canon characters in question too f it. don't care anymore. be witness to my OCs and fic plans#larry pokemon#pokemon larry#dendra pokemon#pokemon dendra#gym leader tulip#pokemon oc#pokemon oc x canon#mine#oc x canon#my art#my OCs#OC raine#OC fifi#oc x canon stuff
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#yeah officially writing zayn out of any of my 1d wips that feature him#was already planning to decrease his and liam's presence in two of my unposted fics but Yeesh#the ick is palpable#idk go be employed!! run your farm!! idk examine your treatment of women??#one of my series is just gonna have to be totally rewritten bc i started it like 4 yrs ago and a lot of my opinions and takes#and writing choices have changed dramatically since then#it was very ot5 centric over a very long stretch of time and i'm not gonna get into why i haven't felt that way in quite a while but Yeah#doesn't sit right with me to write it how i originally planned#if you see any ot5 tags on semi recent posts here it's been me tagging the group as a five piece not 'oh it's always the 5 of them <3'#or w/e else....#idk i'm glad celebrity worship has been on the decline for a lot of people but it needs to happen more#be critical of your faves! have morals! push people to be better it costs nothing#i'm still disappointed as fuck HL have said nothing about palestine but they're white celebs in a highly zionist run industry 🚬#whatever i'll just stay mad ig!#alex talks
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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)
gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.
that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…
“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”
IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)
content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)
author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)
tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)
reblog and interact for a kiss ;)
everything’s been hazy.
you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.
you can’t even bring yourself to move.
so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?
why did gojo lie to you?
another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?
you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.
you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.
you think you can barely even call him gojo now.
the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.
you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.
“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”
“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”
there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.
satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”
your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.
i’ll wait an eternity for you
i’ll always choose you over anything
you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.
a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.
“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”
his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.
now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.
you didn’t come to school today.
there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.
one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.
he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.
gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.
it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.
he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.
however, this time was different.
this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”
he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.
maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.
gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.
“gojo-san?”
he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“
“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“
“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”
he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”
“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.
gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.
she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”
gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”
the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”
she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”
“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”
“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”
“i’m sorry-”
“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.
“...my friend told me to record it…”
he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”
“uhm, yes.”
“so you still have the video?”
“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”
“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”
she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.
she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”
gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.
you miss him.
you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.
you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.
you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.
the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.
you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.
“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”
your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.
“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”
you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.
he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”
he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.
the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.
..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.
holy shit.
tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.
“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”
“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”
“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?
“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”
he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.
you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.
you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"
“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”
gojo can’t let you go.
you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.
god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”
his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”
“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.
he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”
“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”
his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.
everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.
“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”
“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”
“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”
he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”
“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”
and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”
“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”
“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.
he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.
satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”
“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”
“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”
gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.
“angel, are you with me?”
“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.
when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”
“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”
“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”
you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”
satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.
satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.
“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”
“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”
“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”
“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.
you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.
“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”
“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.
the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.
and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.
you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”
for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.
for everything that you have done to love me.
it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”
thanks for reading <3 -kami.
#kami writes#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru comfort#gojo x reader angst#gojo angst#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo smut#gojo x you smut
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curveball-- c.leclerc social media au
I'VE MOVED BLOGS! if you enjoy this and are looking for more, follow me @formulaforza
pairing: c.leclerc x wolff!reader
summary: everyone thinks you're secretly dating lewis, you have eyes for someone else.
a/n: lol posting this bc I need the satisfaction of finishing something bc the fic I'm writing is making me question life
ynwolff
Liked by lewishamilton, lando.jpg, and 192,428 others
tagged: carmenmmundt, lewishamilton
ynwolff happy race week from the girls and I <3
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susie_wolff 💙
mercedesamgf1 our favorite Wolff 👸🏻
bdricc.3 how does it feel to have a dilf
h44milton don't ask me the color of anything
sirlewham.fan
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tagged: lewishamilton, ynwolff
sirlewham.fan lewis and y/n: we are just friends. also lewis every time he looks at y/n
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charles_leclerc lol
carlando.455 CHARLES?? FHFGKFDL WHAT ARE YOU
DOING HERE
pierregassslllyyyyy tell us what you know chuck
merc4lyfe idk this feels wack to post
billingsdak right?? they've been saying they're just friends
for years
merc4lyfe even if they hadn't made so many statements
about it. the age gap is gross
ynwolff
Liked by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari, and 468,295 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
ynwolff soft launches are out? why didn't you tell me before i planned to post all these pictures over the next six months??
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carmenmmundt soft launch speed run 🫶🏼
mercedesamgf1 nobody move
merraribenz WHAT
charles_leclerc mon ange ❤️
pierregasly jump scare
f1fanpod sir lewis x lord perceval school of thirst traps coming soon?? 👀
#f1#f1 instagram au#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#Charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc smut#f1 x reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#cl16
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hiii I adore your writing sm mwaaah💋💋💋love this kinda soft n fluffy fics they make me feel safe:'( would you write some domestic fluff with simon plsss FUCKIN LOVE this man💗😭 maybe something where they just got engaged idk whatever you wanna write... have a nice day🤍🌸
Proposal Headcanons And Scenarios With Simon "Ghost" Riley
Do y'all wanna guess who's render I used again? @ave661 probably already hates me for the amount of times I've tagged her the shitty content I write. I hope I did the request justice, they didn't exactly specify what type but I opted for something other than fics because I am horrid in writing those 😭
This is so freaking short, I'm so sorry. I have so many backed up requests, I don't even know where to begin.
❥ Pre-engagement!Simon who spent fucking months looking for the perfect ring, listen he is NOT giving you a ring that he bought impulsively.
❥ Pre-engagement!Simon who gained unsolicited advice from Soap who happened to be the first one to find out Simon had a partner in the first place.
"Aye L.T, if you want a shot of them agreeing to marry you-"
"And what would you know about being romantic?"
Yeah Simon asked Gaz instead. That still didn't change the fact that both Soap and Gaz, along with Price were there before the proposal, giving Simon a pats on the shoulder while the Lieutenant tried to catch his breath.
❥ Pre-engagement!Simon who asked Price for advice so many times, you do not believe how many times he had practiced kneeling on his not-so-strong knees.
❥ Speaking of knees, Simon had to let out some light encouragement:
"Lovie, will you marry me..?" You heard Simon asked while you had your back turned. You faced him, he was on his knees, the ring in the box enveloped in velvet, the stone glistening under the light of the moon.
it felt like the air was taken out of your lungs. Hands on your mouth, you looked at him wide eyed.
"Lovie.. please answer" He mutters, voice clearly a bit of pain and discomfort.
"O-oh shit, sorry Si" You apologized before saying yes. You helped him up with the hand before he pulled you into a tight hug, arms snug around your waist, head buried in your neck while slipping the ring on your finger before you pushed him and cupped his face into a kiss.
❥ After engagement!Simon who's fucking over the moon, why? Because you're finally his, like officially, from the words of your guys' future daughter "No take-backsies". Thinking about how his internal thoughts are just "Fuck, fuck, shit this is actually happening"
❥ After engagement!Simon who has non-stop called you Mrs. Riley in front of everyone even though you weren't married yet, you didn't have the heart to correct him. Soap tried but uhh, that earned him a unexpectedly painful punch on the arm from you.
❥ Didn't take long for you and Simon to start the planning, of course he let you take over for most of it, shared guest list of his brother's family and his family in TF141. Wanna take a guess on who was best man?
❥ Price was the one who stood for his father on Simon's side of the altar, if you asked, Price definitely would've walked you down the isle.
Hot take on engagement rings, I HATE basic and NFL engagement rings with a burning passion. If you're gonna give me something as sentimental as that, something that's gonna symbolize the moment I said yes because I love you so much that I was willing to be bound to you for eternity then I want something vintage or something that looks like it came out of a fantasy book. Something you think that a fantasy princess would wear, I heard they're even cheaper than basic ass engagement rings.
Cost ≠ Taste and Value.
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#ghost x plus size reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you
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leveling the playing field // epilogue
summary: seven years later.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.7k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??
a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!
series masterlist // playlist
~ seven years later ~
"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.
"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.
Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?
"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.
You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"
"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."
"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.
"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.
Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.
"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.
"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."
You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.
She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.
"No, Darling. You take it."
"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."
"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."
"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."
"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.
"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.
You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"
"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."
"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."
"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."
"Yes sir, Mister President."
"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.
"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"
"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."
"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"
You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."
"And now, here you are." He nods at you.
"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.
"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"
"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."
"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"
"We did." You nod. "And more."
"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"
"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.
"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."
"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.
"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"
"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.
"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."
"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.
"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.
"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.
"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.
When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.
"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.
"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."
"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.
"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.
Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."
The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.
"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."
"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.
"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.
"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.
"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."
"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."
Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."
"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"
"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"
"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.
"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."
"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.
As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.
The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.
"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.
You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.
"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.
And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.
taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney
taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!
#tbosas#coriolanus snow#hunger games#tbosas x reader#tbosas fic#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus fanfiction#coryo x reader#coryo snow
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Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭
LUCKY DIME
a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied
wc: 3k
warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut
choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.
even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.
that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.
“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.
“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.
you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.
“what’d you say?”
choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.
“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.
“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.
“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.
“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”
that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.
a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.
“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.
“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”
“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.
they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.
“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—
you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.
“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.
it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.
choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.
“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.
“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.
“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”
before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.
“wanna drive?”
you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.
but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.
“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”
your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”
choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.
“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.
“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.
“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.
“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”
choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.
“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.
his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.
“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.
“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.
all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.
you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.
“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”
all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.
“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.
“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”
the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.
“c-choso, your fingers—!”
“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.
“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”
choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.
“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”
“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.
“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.
“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”
#THANK U FOR WAITING OMGGG#enjoy ur holidays my love 💟#asks#96jnie#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#kamo choso x reader#choso kamo#choso smut#choso x reader#jjk choso#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso x you#jjk choso x reader#jjk choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader
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Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)
Frost Bite
Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader
Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.
Word Count: 5k+
Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.
A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it
So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T
Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨"
OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle"
Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes)
this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF
if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /:
Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog
I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean-
"You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?"
I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly.
"Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please."
"Fuck off."
I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.
I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.
It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.
And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.
It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.
And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.
It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.
The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.
My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...
I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.
Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.
I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.
Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"
I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."
Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.
"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.
I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.
I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.
The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.
I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.
He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.
"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.
His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.
I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.
I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"
He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.
"Do not waste your energy," I chide.
And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.
Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."
My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."
I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.
"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."
I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."
I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.
I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.
I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.
Daemon.
Daemon.
"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.
I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.
I whine.
His fingers-
"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"
I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.
"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.
He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.
When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.
He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.
It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.
My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.
"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"
Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"
All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.
"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.
He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."
He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."
I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.
I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.
Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.
I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."
I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."
He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."
I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."
Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."
"Hypocrite," I scoff.
He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."
I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."
"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"
"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.
Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."
He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.
"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"
"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.
He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"
I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."
He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"
"Fuck off-"
"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."
I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.
As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.
"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.
I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.
He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."
"Daemon, please stop-"
"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."
"Daemon-"
"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."
He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."
I look up at him as my breathing quickens.
"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.
I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.
"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."
I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.
"Say it," he barks.
"I-"
"Say you want me," he says softer this time.
I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."
I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."
I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.
"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."
I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."
He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.
"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.
I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.
His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."
I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."
My breath leaves me when he says this.
"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."
He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"
"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.
The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.
It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.
Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.
"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.
I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."
I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.
He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."
I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."
I shriek when I bites me.
Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.
I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.
I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.
"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.
"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.
I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.
I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.
"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."
I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.
Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"
His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.
I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.
His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.
I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.
Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."
The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.
He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."
My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.
"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.
"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.
He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"
My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."
I call out his name. He calls out mine.
I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."
Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.
I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.
I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.
I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.
"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."
"Daemon-"
"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"
"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"
"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"
My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.
Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.
He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.
My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.
"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."
I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.
I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.
"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.
I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.
I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.
He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.
"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.
He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"
"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.
Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."
I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.
His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.
"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."
I weakly mumble, "fuck off."
His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "
"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.
Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.
"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.
I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."
"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."
"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.
"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"
I turn to him in concern and push myself up.
Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"
I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.
"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"
I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"
"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.
"That you want me," I quip just as fast.
He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.
"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."
"Well, pardon me for not-"
"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.
I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.
He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"
I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.
When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."
I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."
"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."
I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."
He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"
"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"
"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.
And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.
He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.
He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.
"Daemon-"
"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."
#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon smut#daemon x wife!reader#daemon#daemon targaryen x you#soft!daemon#daemon fic#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fanfic#targaryen smut#dark!daemon#tangina ayoko na#daemon targaryen smut#daemon fluff#the way i am such a slave for this man#corny gago
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Biting the Hand That Feeds au FAQ (Vampires + donor au)
Any general content warnings for bhtf au?
Yes. A normal amount of fnaf warnings, a normal amount of vampire warnings. For someone who doesn't know I elaborate... For vampire stuff, the most obvious ones are blood, hypnosis, bites, and animalistic behaviour. Less obvious - slightly suggestive themes. For fnaf - fnaf's usual violence, dark themes, a drop of gore and murders. The lore is uh. Very dark. I will try to decrease the amount of all of the cruelty but man. People who know, know how hard it will be. But I will tag everything properly so don't worry.
Is there a fic for your au?
No. And currently, I'm not even planning on writing one.
How do I find the story?
For now, we have two comics that are directly connected and one that doesn't have a specific place in the story but is about canonical lore.
[ 1 ] - [ 2 ] - [ x ]
In future, we will have more and I probably absolutely will forget to update this post so I recommend checking the tags. Here's the tag list
Tip: don't click the tag. Tumblr hides half of the results. Type it in the blog's search instead :)
Are the comics the only canonical thing about au?
No! I answer asks and draw a lot of doodles with bhtf au all the time and 90% of them are canon. You can, yet again, find everything in the tag list linked in the previous question.
Can I draw/write fan stuff for your au?
Yes, please!! I'm always happy to see fanart and fan writings and literally everything that you do! Just tag me when you post and use a fanart or fanwriting tag for au specifically so I don't miss it!
Can you include my characters in your story?
No, unfortunately, I cannot. The story is already written and I don't have any "space" for background characters either. Maybe it will change but currently, things are like this.
I asked a question with an interaction with my characters and I never got an answer, why?
I don't accept such requests. I'm not ready to spend my time drawing other people's characters for free(if I personally don't want to, of course)
Is there any limit to how many questions I can ask?
No, not at all! You can ask all you want just please make sure your question wasn't answered before. There is a big possibility I will just simply delete it if it was answered beforehand many times. Check the ask tag for it.
What about limitations? Any boundaries?
Please no questions about tickling🧍♀️ I got so many of those it already makes me uncomfortable. And for some reason, a lot of people send asks that include violence towards my characters and while I don't really feel uncomfortable with this I just idk what to answer and why are you even doing this lmao
What questions I should avoid?
Well, not really avoid but I will mention it anyway.
The things I have planned to draw right now:
- Sun and Moon and y/n's first meeting
- The creation of Sun&Moon
- Why S&M are sensitive to light and darkness
- How they hunt
So no need to ask me about these. I will show it, I promise.
What about sexual themes?
I understand that I post a lot of suggestive stuff and it may appear I allow such a thing but no.
You can create content with it tho, I don't mind for the most part. Just be ready that I may not reblog it, as my Tumblr is a SFW place. It's always 50/50.
Romantic themes?
I do draw some kisses and cuddles when I feel like it and you of course can send ideas for cute interactions but in the story we're very far away from it lol.
My question gets ignored even though I followed everything that you mentioned here. Why?
Answered in main FAQ.
Can I share the ideas for your au with you?
YES!!! Yes, yes and yes! I'm very open to that, like yes! The only thing that I definitely want to mention - you should expect that I actually can take your ideas and use them. Some people are protective of their ideas so if you're like this you probably should not share them with me :)
The information that you're using for your au is wrong.
Happens sometimes yeah. I know nothing about any medical stuff for y/n so I usually improvise. After all it's an au about robotic vampires man, this information is absolutely wrong. But! You're free to drop feedback/constructive criticism in my inbox!
Will be updated later
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What would have happened of hunith did talk about balinor to merlin growing up?
I don't know if someone has made this a fic, if so please comment or something. It doesn't even have to be merthur.
Would merlin grow to be hateful and want to seek revenge on the pendragons? And how will that go when he finds out he is destined to protect the son of the man who caused his father to leave them? Would it take longer to become friends with arthur? Would he get made Arthur's manservant, and not go?
Arthur is already curious of merlin, the man who sassed him even after he found out who he was, and basically tries to become merlin's friend. Like he doesn't know why he wants to become merlin's friend but he tries everything. Merlin is a stubborn person so he will put a mask of hating arthur but secretly wants to see how far arthur is willing to go to be his friend. All while he is saving Arthur's life... but like on accident. Like he stubbles on the bad guys plans and is like, well I'm already here.
I also would find it funny, even if it was out of character If uther sees his son trying to become merlin's friend and merlin is not having it. He's curious now and watches, "why doesn't gaius' nephew not want my son's friend?" "Gaius is my friend, gaius says his nephew is nice and has already become friends with morgana and her maid. Why not my son? Why does he look at me like that? He kinda looks at me like how morgana looks at me when she's mad at me... they look alike. Did I sleep with gaius' sister? No, I'm 100% sure of it. Why does he look familiar?"
So now uther asked arthur about his mission on becoming merlin's friend, and uses "he is gaius' nephew and his apprentice, he's going to be your physician if something where to happen to giaus. You must be friendly to the person who is handing your health.", as an excuse to know more about merlin.
At somepoint I feel like merlin learns that arthur is not his father and learns to tolerate him. But like if arthur brings up his father in any conversation, he just turns slightly treasonous. And when he has to be in the same room as uther he just ignores him and exclusively speaks to arthur. Uther gets slightly angry at this, and it has landed him a night in the dungeons a couple of times.
(Oh and like lancelot learns why merlin hates uther and also doesn't speak to uther. Idk what broken timeline im thinking of but i love this idea. The most friendly knight hating on one person.)
I don't where else this can go but if someone where to do something with this or something similar that would be cool. Tag me or something my ao3 is in my bio.
#merlin#merthur#bbc merlin#arthur pendragon#merlin bbc#merlin emrys#merlin x arthur#prince arthur#bbc merthur#uther pendragon#bbc gaius#bbc morgana
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about first place | eddie munson
hey guys remember when i wrote for stranger things? lol.
so this is another installment of my about a boy series. you don't have to read them to understand this fic, but idk, you might like those too! check them out if you feel like :)
Summary: Eddie asks you to change plans. You spiral.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings/tags: intrusive (violent and one self-harm) thoughts, self deprecating thoughts, reader spirals, eddie is hurtful (by accident) to the reader, but they communicate and it's resolved. reader feels like they are cast aside and there is trauma behind that feeling. reader is sensitive to rejection and has trouble communicating.
my fics aren't intended to be used as models for perfect communication or anything like that HOWEVER this fic is intended to be a story about communication and building trust and navigating a partner's trauma. if these topics are triggering to you, DO NOT READ.
if you enjoy this, please let me know through reblogs (and a comment, if you feel like!)
divider by firefly-graphics | i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary
Fridays are dinner nights with Eddie. Sometimes you do them on Saturday, but usually, every week, you two have dinner. It hasn’t gone on for very long; you’ve only just begun to feel comfortable eating in front of Eddie. But you like it. Sometimes Wayne joins you two. It feels like you have a home.
And after every dinner, you confirm with Eddie that he'll come over next week too. People like when you confirm plans in advance. You like when people confirm plans and keep their commitments.
You like that Eddie comes over. You like that he wants to come over.
The phone rings. You put down the wooden spoon and answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, sweet thing!" Eddie says. "Hey, so, I'm at Gareth's place right now, and our campaign is running long. It's so good, babe, I just created this new storyline and everybody loves it! Wheeler even said she might join next week. Am I a genius or what?"
You smile. "You're a genius, Eds. Nancy appreciates a good story; I’m not surprised you wowed her.”
"Aw, you flatter me, sweet thing. So, uh, I know I'm supposed to come over for dinner, but would it be okay if I took a rain check? Only because…"
You don't hear the rest of the sentence. The only thing that rings in your ears is rain check. Eddie's canceling. Eddie's sick of you.
"...Is that alright?" he finally asks. "I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow."
Your chest constricts. Eddie's expecting agreeability. He's expecting your acquiescence to the fact that he's sick of you.
"Sure," you say tightly.
There's a pause. Then, "So, I’ll swing by tomorrow?"
"No." You haven't prepared to interact with people tomorrow, you prepared for today. And tonight was planned a week in advance, but Eddie wants to change plans. Eddie cares more about Hellfire than spending time with you.
Eddie is just like the rest of them.
"How ‘bout Monday? Or later next week? I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing."
Your throat feels tight. You need to end the conversation now or your guts will unspool all over the floor and Eddie will hear you try to stuff them back into your stomach.
"It's fine. We don't need to reschedule. Bye."
You hang up. Immediately, your stomach hurts. Why should you feel guilty? Eddie abandoned plans that you made a week ago for his other friends. Eddie doesn't care about you. That's always how it goes. People hurt you and they don't care, and then you're the one who feels guilty for hanging up on them.
Thoughts of Eddie crashing his van or Eddie getting struck by lightning flash unbidden into your mind and your stomach ache gets worse. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you think those things? You don't want that to happen to Eddie. You love Eddie, even though you were bound to eat too much love and get a stomach ache.
You feel like doing something that would make your mother mad at you. You feel like digging your nails into the bathroom tile grout and scraping until you see the sun. You feel like carving scars into the kitchen table.
Goddammit, you need to stop the bad thoughts. Think good thoughts. Think thoughts normal people have. Pretend you're normal. Pretend you're loved.
You look at the pot of boiling water. Would Eddie come over if you stuck your hand in?
No, God, what's wrong with you? You fucking psycho. This is why no one keeps their plans with you! Eddie's job isn't to take care of you, to hold your hand and pet your hair and tell you he's happy to be here with you.
You're wrong, you were born wrong, and that's your problem, not his. That's why he's gone. That's why everybody leaves.
Knock knock.
You look at the door, spooked. Did someone hear your thoughts? Are they finally here to take you away?
"Sweet thing, you there? Can I please come in?"
If you let Eddie in, you'll have to tell him it's okay, and your guts will be there for him to see because you haven't cleaned them up yet, and he'll know you've been crying over him even though he called first which is more than you've ever been given before, and your stomach ache will triple and and and—
"It's open," you say.
Eddie comes in. Your face is impenetrable. Stone. No, concrete. No, obsidian. Your face is obsidian, and Eddie's got a plastic hammer. You'll win and you can scoop up your guts later.
"Hey," Eddie says softly. "Hey, sweetheart."
You take a step back. This is a trick.
"Why aren't you with your friends?" you ask, crossing your arms.
Eddie winces. "I’m sorry, baby. That was a mistake. I realized that after we hung up. I shouldn't have tried to reschedule. You and I made plans, and they're important to me. I ended the game—we're gonna meet next week."
"You can go. I don't care."
Eddie's mouth flattens. You've hurt his feelings, but he hurt yours first, but you don't want to hurt his at all, but but but—
"I'm sorry I hurt you," Eddie says. "I don't want to reschedule or ditch our plans. I wanna spend time with you, I do."
"I don't want you here," you say. "I want you to leave, Eddie. I don't forgive you."
Eddie's face crumples. But he nods. "Okay, baby. I-I'll leave if you want me to go. I respect your space. You don't have to forgive me right now."
Oh no. Eddie came prepared. Eddie has a diamond-tipped drill.
"I'm never first," you blurt.
Eddie tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
He's still gentle. He's still here. Even though you didn't forgive him. Even though you're mad at him. Even though you'll never be normal. He's listening anyway.
"No one puts me first. You did, but then you didn't tonight, even though I made plans enough time in advance. A week is enough time. People are supposed to stick to plans when you ask them a week ahead. It's my fault when I don't give them enough time, and it makes sense when they don't want to spend time with me then, but this time it wasn't my fault. You're supposed to decide you don't like me before this point. It hurts less when you decide earlier."
Your chest heaves. Eddie's stepping all over your guts. He tracks them across the carpet as he gets closer. You watch the bloody intestine footprints slop behind him.
"But you said yes. But then you wanted out. I'm never—I'm never first."
Eddie's face splinters further. "Oh, sweetheart—"
You wipe your eyes, pulling the skin hard.
"I do like you," he says, and your sob breaks. "I do. Nothing'll make me stop liking you. And I love you still. I didn't ask that because I don't like you. It-it doesn't matter why I asked, but avoiding you wasn't the reason. It was a thoughtless thing I did. I thought you wouldn't mind, but you do, and that's okay. That's valid. I want you to tell me that. I want you to say, "Eddie, you dummy, I love ya, but let's keep our plans," and I'll come home."
"You didn't want to," you say, and cry harder.
"No, baby, it's not like that at all. I wanted to do both, I like the idea of both. I always enjoy spending time with you. I thought maybe since we do this regularly, you wouldn't mind something different too."
You're overreacting. You're scary. This is wrong. This isn't how norm—fucking fuck that word!
"I'm sorry," you blubber, quivering in place.
Your legs feel weak. You lean against the counter for support.
Eddie shakes his head. He's a foot away.
"What're you apologizing for, baby? You don't have to apologize. I hurt you, not the other way around."
"I'm guilty," you say, crying into your hands. "I'm guilty too. I thought bad thoughts. I didn't mean to, but I did, and now you're here, but I want you to be here because you want to be, not because I… I…"
"Is it okay if I touch you?"
You nod, and Eddie's arms slide around you. Every time he hugs you, you're certain you won't fit together. But you always do.
"It's okay if you thought bad thoughts," Eddie says into your ear. You feel his voice vibrate through your chest. "You're not your thoughts. And it's okay if some of those thoughts were because you were hurting from what I said. I’m really sorry, sweet thing. I have angry thoughts too, sometimes. But that's all they are. Just thoughts. Just noise. They don't make you bad. You're good. So, so good."
You wrap your arms around Eddie's neck and hug hard. He squeezes you back just as tightly. The pressure feels good.
"I w-want you to hang out with friends, but I want you to k-keep our plans first," you say, and then brace yourself. You take great, big, shuddering breaths.
"That is a very reasonable ask, my love. I’ll do that from now on. And how 'bout if we want to change plans, we'll ask at least three days in advance? Is that fair?”
You nod against his shoulder. You stay like that, Eddie rubbing circles on your back. His curls tickle your wet cheek.
"Sorry I ruined it," you say.
"No, no, you didn't ruin anything. I made a mistake and we're learning how to communicate better. We’re learning.”
"I was scary."
"I don't think so, baby."
You're quiet for a moment. "I want you to stay and eat with me."
He squeezes your arm. "I would love nothing more, sweet thing."
You take the colander out of the cabinet. Eddie pushes your guts back into your stomach. No one's ever done that for you.
Perhaps you are loved. No pretending necessary.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x gn reader#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things imagine#eddie munson angst#about a boy
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Hey! I'm not looking for a particular fic and maybe somebody's already asked this, but could you point me the way to kidfics where Crowley is the birthing parent? Idk if I'm just unlucky or bad at searching but it seems like almost all the 'one of them gives birth' fics have Aziraphale as the birth parent...
Hello! We do have a #pregnant crowley tag, so take a look at that. Here are some more fics to add to the collection...
Angel Baby by ARealPip (T)
Crowley is pregnant, and a group of doctors and nurses struggle valiantly to handle the gender-fluid inhuman patient who has suddenly shown up in their offices. Aziraphale does his very best to help put them at their ease. But it all goes a bit strange.
This Miraculous Child (Of Ours) by blackeyedblonde (E)
“Well?” Crowley asks, wretchedly pulling his sunglasses from his face. “Why isn’t your angelic juju doing me one better and nipping whatever this is in the arse?”
The fact that Aziraphale has paled some himself and reached up to clutch at the front of his dressing gown doesn’t seem to bode well.
“You—you’re with child, Crowley,” he says, just like that, in the messy parlor of this once-scourged effing bookshop in Soho where Crowley thought he’d lost the one thing he ever really cared about, the car be damned, since they unraveled into existence and millennia began.
More to Love by Sodium_Azide (E)
It's a new world, and the beginning of a new era. Crowley has never been happier in his long life, but, (ain't there always a but) he has his angel, he has his freedom, he has his Bentley and the whole world to explore, but he still wants more.
Unexpectedly, he gets it.
(an ineffable family fic)
The Way We're Made by dsaun (E)
After the almost-apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale attempt to settle back into their old routines. What they don't know is that their meddling in the great plan has piqued the creator's curiosity and she has other ideas. A drunken evening causes ineffable consequences and turns everything upside down.
beyond the river jordan by blackeyedblonde (E)
“I think it’s time we try and do the thing,” is what Crowley says, when the words finally wing up out of him one morning.
“Do what, dear?” Aziraphale asks as he takes a scrubbing brush to the skillet they’d made eggs in. Behind them, Dove is smearing oatmeal and a bit of scramble around her highchair tray, blabbing good-naturedly in her little singsong voice while morning sunlight slants in just enough to make her strawberry hair shine like rose gold.
“You know,” Crowley grunts, drying an antique porcelain plate with a particular furor that makes it consider breaking, though it wouldn’t dare so much as chip with the angel in the room. “Uh. Try again—for a baby. But swapped ‘round a bit so I do all the cooking.”
Aziraphale calmly keeps up with his washing, though a little smile plays around his mouth and then gradually grows a bit wider. “Ah,” he says all too knowingly, which makes Crowley’s stomach lurch. “I’d been wondering when you’d feel ready to bring that up again.”
The Birds and the Bees for Ineffable Idiots by DarkAngel2891 (T)
Crowley doesn't know how reproduction works.
Aziraphale is at a loss for words. Whatever the two where expecting it wasn't this.
God ships Crowley and Aziraphale.
- Mod D
#good omens#ineffable husbands#ineffable partners#pregnant crowley#pregnancy#mpreg#female presenting crowley#kid fic#mod d
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My beloved cutie mooties🥺🖤
(edited 12.05.24)
🖤@atinyniki🖤
Niki, my beautiful sunshine, I'm so grateful to have you through thick and thin. I'm still convinced you're cute and idc whether you accept that or not. I love talking to you and you're one of the kindest people I know (unless you yell at me you meanie...joking obviously, chill guys😂🖤) I'll always be there for you...also pls stop spending so much money on me cutie😭 Keep shining sunny bunny...love you, pretty girl🖤
🖤@zehina🖤
my beloved (not so silent anymore) bestie, i love our shared European confusion and confusing the others together in return. you're such a cute little kitty and we all know u love being called cute so...you're very cute, deal with it🤭I love our shared stupidity whenever we talk about the boys and seriously, every time you send me your part for the rambles I'd drop to my knees and pay for it bc holy shit. I'll always be there if you need me, keep fighting lovey. love you unnie🖤
🖤@galaxycatdrawz🖤
azzy, I'm so proud of slowly pulling you a little from the shadows you were hiding in😂 also...idk how I managed to do so, but I'm still laughing about achieving most of your tumblr milestones😭 i love sharing requests with you, working out ideas or simply do as you said and write what my brain couldn't figure out. thank you for always being there for me and sharing your brilliant brain with me, co-writer🤭 also it's such a bummer we live so far away bc after what we talked about so far I know you'd be the best cuddle buddy🥺 love you azzy my cutest little thing🖤
🖤@jinnie-ret 🖤
jinnie my dear, even though we haven't talked that much so far, I always love it when we get the chance🤭 can't wait to get to know you better as well and I'm already so excited for that fic👀looveeee your writing sm🖤
🖤@sona1800🖤
you're my newest mootie and I love you so much already it's ridiculous (niki can confirm that🥹) you're always so sweet and you literally outshine every fic with your loving reblogs and comments (I'm just too speechless to answer properly, I really love them🥺) so yeah, that's why you got the tag "the cutest" 🤭🖤
🖤@silverstarburst🖤
Ash. my dear, we don't have that much time to talk usually because you're either working or I'm asleep (a rarity but still). Nevertheless, you have a special place in my heart by now and I'm thankful for your presence in my life. I know who to text if I need someone to kick ass. Your reblogs make me smile like some idiot every time, thank you so much for appreciating my lil dummy ideas so much. love you mama wolf🖤
🖤@slutforchanlix🖤
Miu, babyy, I've made you cry way too often with stuff like this—my bad. I know it's not always easy, but you're one of the kindest people I know, and I love that I have someone with whom I can talk in my native language for once. You're a sweetheart and thank you for always being there for me. I still plan to meet you one day hehe. Long story short, you're amazing, don't let anyone else try to make you believe anything less than that. Bin immer für dich da🖤
🖤@michelle4eve🖤
heyy mimi, we haven't talked much so far...sometimes accidentally when you mistook my icon for niki's I hope that's easier now😂😉 you seem like such a kind soul and I hope we'll get closer over time (no rush dear!) I'm happy over each of your reblogs, especially after you told us you're too shy to do so sometimes. I really appreciate it, you cutie🖤
🖤@chrizzztopherbang🖤
I always loved seeing you pop up in my notifications with your sweet comments. I already think you're a sweetheart, I know we haven't talked that much yet. Still, I loved prereading your fics and getting a glimpse into your genius brain. Don't give up writing as long as you have fun with it, because you're truly amazing at it🖤
🖤@wolfyychan🖤
You've been around on my prior blog already and still my stupid brain didn't realize you've changed usernames for so long😭😂 I always look forward to your excited comments and reblogs, they're truly a boost of motiviation ngl. Hope to have you around for a long time🤭🖤
🖤@james-is-here🖤
Your excitement for that Minchan series made me think about writing bonus chapters for the first time in months. I really love seeing how you get so invested in some of the stories, which makes me want to do better hehe. Also...omg...I'm still thinking about that one fic you wrote a while ago🫠 I'm excited to see what's next and hope we'll get the chance to maybe talk some more🖤
🖤@queer-possum🖤
Without giving away too much, your brain is amazing. I love your requests so much and you're always so kind when I get back to you to make sure I get everything right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about certain topics and stuff I haven't so far🖤
🖤@chanandminhoenthusiast🖤
love, love, loveee your blog (for obvious inspirational reasons😉) you seemed like a very sweet soul whenever we talked before and I'll always be there if you need someone to talk, even about the most random bullshit😂🖤
🖤@palindrome969🖤
You're such a lovely person, I can't even put it into words properly. Your writing is beautiful and I'm still in love with that stargazing fic with Channie😭 always love talking to you and seeing your comments🖤
🖤@5starluvr🖤
I've told you so before, I wanna kiss your brain so bad sometimes. The stuff you come up with for me to write is brilliant. I can't wait to finish more of your requests and share ideas as soon as possible! Love you hehe🖤
🖤@mellhwang🖤
Heyy sweetie, I love seeing you in my notes and I swear I'll get that Minchan x Hyunjin thing done for you!! Thank you for all the love, dear🖤
🖤@lost-in-avoidance🖤
The amount of times I made you choke back tears at work is...concerning and I'm so sorry, I don't do it on purpose, I swear😭😂 your reblogs are always so genuine and make me feel like I did exactly what I wanted to with the fic in question. I appreciate your words so much, thank you!
#my mooties#minnie❤️#my shadow boy🖤#space cat😻🖤#niki love🖤#my sunshine🖤#my lixie🖤#my cute unnie🥺🖤#pretty zehina🖤#my silent bestie🖤#mama wolf🐺🖤#noona❣️#jinnie dear🖤#the cutest🖤#miu love🖤#mimi🧜♀️#chrizzztopherbahng🖤#james-is-here🖤#queer-possum🖤#lost-in-avoidance🖤#mellhwang🖤#5starluvr🖤#my dear pali🖤#chanandminhoenthusiast🖤
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tease tidbit tuesday💀
tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖
hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol
it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣
it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha)
gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣
not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol
I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both
snippet 1 | snippet 2
___
“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway.
There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.
“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”
“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script.
“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.
“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”
Eddie hangs up without a word.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks
#tease tidbit tuesday#death cast buddie au#buddie wip#buddie fic#buddie#wikiangela writes#my writing#fic snippet#my wips#angst#buddie angst#mcd#i don't know how yet but eddie will die in this one bc apparently ive been in the mood to break my own heart lmao#i wanted to say maybe i'd share smth happier tomorrow but i don't think i have any happy wips im actively working on rn???#there are happy wips in general but im not really in the mood/inspired for those rn#ran out of happy when i finished the natalia fic i guess lol#who even am i lmao what's with all the angst and sad im usually all about fluff 🤣#(gonna share some more of alive shannon tomorrow!)#btw if you haven't read the books and have questions hmu but also i'll try to make everything clear in the fic lol#but also SO recommend the books they're so good and so sad and I think about them like at least once a week (the prequel wrecked me)
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glimpse of us: exile
pairing: husband!yoongi x female reader ; namjoon x reader
genre: angst, divorce, arranged marriage (but not really), age gap kinda (5 years), unrequited love, pining (reader), fluff
wc: 19.5k (my first full fic? :O)
playlist: glimpse of us.
warnings: read part one first. a lot of pov changes at the party scene, kinda unedited, angst, major 2nd lead syndrome vibes, idk how to tag warnings obviously, kissing, implied sex, lots of flashback scenes, bad writing bc i can't write.
note: aaaaaa it's finally here. things didn't go as planned because i didn't expect to be really busy in the first month of junior year in uni T.T !! i'm really sorry to those who waited and thank you for giving me 500+ notes on the first part of glimpse of us.
summary: he was the perfect husband and it's a perfect marriage... but it's time to let him go.
PART 1
masterlist
“yoongi? are you listening to me?”
the voice that was just an echo on the back of his head grows louder, fishing him out of the abyss of thoughts he’s been having. he looks back at the woman who sits across from him with wide eyes, suddenly realizing he had been out of it again.
“yeah, sorry.” yoongi replies with an obvious lie and straightens up his back. his girlfriend sighs and sips her coffee while avoiding his gaze. he knows that she’s now pissed at him.
“are you really going to think about work while i’m here? we’ve been barely going out as it is and you do this?” yuna’s voice raises at him. he looks around the cafe, worried about the eyes that turned to them.
“can you turn your voice down?” he pleads in a whisper, leaning closer to the woman.
she scoffs at him, crossing her arms. “my voice is not the issue here.”
it was always like this. nothing seems to be going right with them anymore. if they can’t see each other because of their conflicting schedules, they’re either arguing or ignoring each other because of the argument. despite this, yoongi believes it’s just the 7-year itch and if they both try to get through it, they can overcome it.
“i know. i’m sorry.” he sighs and looks down at his drink. “what were you saying again?”
“i told you i met someone.”
it didn’t sink in at first. time stays still as his body goes frozen in his seat.
just a second ago, his mind was as if a desk of a mad scientist, thoughts scrambled as a million worries, ideas, and images run through his head. he was a man that never stopped running, always chasing a prize that was dangling in front of him. and he loved it. but he was too blind to see the truth. he had been doing it wrong all this time.
he didn’t know that six words had the power to boil down years of noise in his head into one word–a question.
“what?”
he sat there in misery as she explained. the words coming out from her mouth swirled in his head like a tornado, swiping every last plan he has in the future for the both of them. it is only now that he takes notice of how her hair is not kept as neatly as it usually is. he recalls how a different smell of shampoo had hit his nose when he hugged her in greeting earlier.
she tells him how she spent the night in another man’s bed but never doing the things expected of a person who’s going behind her partner’s back. she doesn’t do them. no, yuna is not a person to do that. but she tells him of how she yearned to. and that’s why she can’t bear the thought of being with him further.
because she realized that she doesn’t want him anymore.
how her voice trembled when she said goodbye, yoongi doesn’t even notice. the way she stood up from her seat, yoongi doesn’t even look at.
just like that, yoongi was left inside that cafe, sitting where he felt his whole world stop.
he was ashamed of himself.
it’s amazing how in one room, different kind of lives are being lived. some are laughing with their friends, others just enjoying their coffee on a nice and sunny day, a few typing away at their laptops in a buzzing cafe instead of a quiet library, the cafe staff just getting by and doing their job for the day. all of this happening while one man in his seat just felt his whole world shatter just by six words.
now he realizes that the prize he was chasing was tied to him over his head. like a fool, he was chasing something that if only he stops for a moment, he could easily reach it with both his hands. he could have taken it and held it close to him. maybe that way, the swift air from his running wouldn’t have taken it away from him. but it did. and it’s all because of him.
from that moment on, he swore he wouldn’t let such a thing happen again.
but it does.
a usual monday for yoongi goes like this: first, he eats the breakfast you cook. second, he drives to work. third, he texts you when he arrives. four, he slaves himself to work the whole day and a few hours of the night. fifth, he texts you when he’s about to go home. sixth, he drives home from work at a late hour. lastly, he either finds you asleep or waiting for him while having a midnight snack.
the monday goes as it does for him at first. so, expectedly, it would continue as it is for the rest of the night. obviously, things doesn’t usually go as it does.
the first unusual thing he finds is how the lights are turned off when he enters the apartment. it doesn’t matter if you’re asleep or watching a movie in the living room, you always leave the dim light by the entrance turned on.
“y/n?”
the second unusual thing that happens is when he shouts your name, no one answers. from that moment, he realizes that you were out of the house.
the third unusual thing is why didn’t you tell him? were you spending the night at your parents house? out with a friend? or perhaps at work? you always text him if you’re going to be out of the house. so why didn’t you tonight?
worry fills his system at the thought of you being out and him having no idea where. he knows you can handle yourself well but you not telling him where you’ve gone doesn’t feel right to him.
his hand finds the light switch in the dark like it’s second nature. and just like that, the apartment comes to life with bright lights and a clean atmosphere.
he doesn’t find the place unusual. everything was just like he left it. it was only you that was missing from the picture.
but a few steps in, he finds the last thing he would find unusual for the night.
the box that he usually sees underneath your closet rack is now sitting on top of the coffee table in the living room and beside it were two envelopes. one in legal size and another in letter.
he throws his leathered sling bag on the couch and picks up the letter. for some reason, there was a pounding in his heart that he can’t explain. perhaps, it was his body telling him that something unpleasant was about to happen. his furrowed brows and blazing eyes scan through the words in the letter. the words sorry and end were the only things that made sense to him. he couldn’t read the letter fully as he could feel his chest tighten second by second.
this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening.
his eyes shift to the bigger envelope on the table. the trembling hands of his abandon the sheet of paper in his hands only to grasp the envelope and roughly see the content inside of it.
he felt his knees weaken at the words he finds on the document that he falls in a slump on the couch, staring blankly at the paper and taking in the weight of your signature on it.
it takes him a few minutes to get back to reality. and just like before, all his thoughts was silenced with one word.
why?
he picks up the letter that fell to the floor, reading it calmly this time.
his eyes move slowly and carefully as if he’s afraid of the words he’s going to read. this time, the words doesn’t come like a tornado. this time, it comes like tsunami. before he knew it, he’s already underwater and being pushed in all directions by the water.
i’m sorry.
i didn’t think i could tell you this in person. i thought about it carefully, yoongi. but i don’t think i can go on with this. i’ve known for a while even before you’ve said it that night–that it’s not me you truly see at first, i thought it was okay. i don’t mind if the love you give is borrowed. i’d rather be loved like this than not being loved at all by you. i’d take whatever love you can give. then, i realize how fucked up it is. in the process of loving you, i’d forgotten how to love myself. it’s cheesy, i know. but what can i do when the man who i love only loves me because he finds her in me? is there a space for the real me in your heart, yoongi? because if we’re honest, if it’s down to me and her, who would you choose? that night, when you told me i am just like her that’s why you can’t lose me, i just knew it had to stop. i don’t want to be the person you settle for just because you can’t have her.
i’m sorry, yoongi. i know that by doing this, i’m hurting you. but it has to end before any more people get hurt.
i’ll let you go so you can find her again.
we can talk about this further when you’re ready.
y/n.
the whiskey rolled on his tongue, the bitter taste on his buds lingering as he swallowed the strong drink. not even letting his tongue get to its aftertaste, he takes another swig of the highly alcoholic drink.
“you need to slow down.”
his best friend reminds him as he sits beside him on the couch—the couch you specifically chose. everything in this house, you chose. every corner of the place, he sees you. every little thing reminded him of you.
he groans and limply hold the glass by his knee. he hung his head back and rests his forearm on his forehead. seokjin watches and sighs at the misery of his best friend.
“i think i need someone to tell me how to live life.” yoongi blurts out.
“why would you think that?” seokjin asks with a snort before taking a sip of his drink. his face scrunches after taking in the taste of the whiskey, realizing it was way too strong for his liking. he takes another sip anyway. that’s just how seokjin is.
“i think i’ve been doing it wrong so far.” the man answers with a mutter.
seokjin gazes at his best friend and then to the divorce papers on the table. he recalls the text he received from his friend’s wife in the afternoon.
hi jin.
if u’re free tonight can u check on yoongi after his shift? i think he’ll need u.
the day the jin dreads has come. knowing yoongi the best, he wished that it didn’t happen like this. he felt bad for his friend but worse for you. you don’t deserve this. the fact that you still went out of your way to make sure your husband was alright when you were divorcing him, he doesn’t think it will be easy for yoongi to find someone like you again.
“when do you plan to talk to her?” seokjin asks in relation to the last line in the letter.
yoongi removes his arm from his face and looks at seokjin. he sighs and slumps more on the couch, body sliding down lower until his chin rests on his chest.
“i don’t know.”
“you went through with it.”
jungkook doesn’t greet you when he enters your office. it only took looking at your tired face, the bags under your eyes, and the way you teared up the moment you see him step foot in the room with documents in his hands. he had no idea you were going to do it. he knew that you had everything ready after the hawaii trip but you never told him you were going to do it already.
“i did it.” the corner of your lips turned upward in a small, sad smile.
“huh.” he reacts, looking down on his feet. your brow furrows at the sudden drop of his mood, curious as to why his sulkiness doesn’t only indicate pity.
your friend drags his feet to get near you and drops himself on his favorite chair across you. “has he signed it?” he asks, dropping the papers on your table.
“i left the papers and a letter at home yesterday. he hasn’t made contact since then.” you answer, getting the papers he brought you. he takes one glace at it and was reminded why he was there in the first place.
“need you to sign these to finalize the deal with the kim enterprise.” he says as you examine the papers. “i arranged a meeting for you with them by your secretary. it’s on friday.”
you nod and grabbed the pen at the side of your desk. the metallic casing of the caran d’ache sign pen yoongi gifted to you is cold on your skin as you held it. your thumb caresses the engraved name on the expensive gold plated casing, feeling the comfort of the familiar rough texture of it. your name looks good with his, such a shame you have to give it back to him.
you shake your head and put it inside the drawer under your desk so you won’t see or use it again. this time, you grab a different pen, a normal one that you liked using for signing before your marriage.
you finally sign the papers and hand it over to your friend who was still looking down on his shoes. there was a slight pout on his face, so you wonder what was on his mind.
“okay, what’s bothering you?” you sigh.
he bites his lip before looking at you for a second then avoiding your stare. “it’s nothing.” he says before standing up.
you grab his arm before he can get away, standing up in the process. “get back here right now.”
his jaw clenches. “i just—i feel kind of responsible.” he answers, still not looking at you.
his words takes you aback, loosening your grip on him.
“what?” you let him go to stutter the word out of your mouth.
“you started to doubt him after the hawaii trip. after what i said.”
now you realize what was on his mind and understand why. you don’t indulge jungkook much on your relationship. despite him being your best friend, you didn’t feel like telling anyone your doubts on the marriage, not even yourself.
you only told him after the hawaii trip about everything. he listened attentively but you noticed there was something bothering him a bit since then.
jungkook liked yoongi. he treated him like an older brother. but you were his best friend and yoongi had his mistakes. still, he couldn’t help but things happened differently.
he knows that with this marriage dissolving, he might lose yoongi as a friend. but most importantly, he was scared that you will lose the light in your eyes. he was glad you’re going to be free of him and could not hurt you further than he was doing but he wonders if there was a slight chance that you would be happy for a lifetime just living in your bubble of a marriage that maybe wouldn’t have popped if he hadn’t shown you how to. he thinks this all happened because of him.
“kookie, it was doomed from the start and never your fault.” you sigh, before continuing. “it didn’t start with you. or even with me. it started with yoongi. but i’m the one ending it for all of us. the two of us deserve better than pretending everything’s okay.”
you really wanted yoongi to be the one to reach out first. two weeks has passed and there still was no sign of him wanting to communicate with you. if he wanted to cut you off so bad, why hasn’t he signed the papers?
so here you are now, in front of your apartment. the two of you have to settle with an agreement before your father’s birthday gala on saturday and you can’t do that if he’s still not willing to talk to you.
you punched in the numbers on the keypad lock. it was the combination of the years you were born. just another reminder how far apart you were. although five years isn’t really a huge age difference, it was another factor that doesn’t make you her.
you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous that the passkey would be changed. but as the lock in front of you dinged green and let you in, a sense of relief comes to you.
you know that yoongi isn’t here and still at work. with that knowledge, you allow yourself to check the place. it was just like you left it, clean and quiet. there isn’t much food left in the fridge so you figure that he’s been eating out. at least, that’s what you wish. you hope his secretary, kim taehyung, is making sure he eats well.
you look over your wrist watch. there’s still more than an hour before yoongi comes home. with the time you have, you can cook a few side dishes he can eat with take out. without thinking more about it, you get to work.
wearing your apron, you hum to yourself while preparing the ingredients, finding yourself easily lost in how much the place and activity felt like second skin to you.
there are two coping mechanisms when you’re anxious for what’s in store in the future. first, is you think about it every minute of the day and let it destroy you. second, you completely ignore it until it happens. you were obviously doing the latter this time.
you haven’t thought about how you’re going to talk about the divorce to your parents. so far, the only people who knows about it from your side is jungkook, your secretary, and maria. you don’t know who yoongi has told yet but you’re sure seokjin knows. that’s four people. four people outside your relationship that knows what’s in store.
the moment more people know, it’s irreversible and real.
you wonder how your parents will react. their only daughter, divorced at a young age with no children. they won’t be happy but you’re sure they’ll understand.
just as you were putting the cooked dishes inside their tupperware, you hear the door open. you hold your breath and freeze. suddenly scared of his reaction to your unannounced return.
this is the first time you’ve seen him in two weeks yet you don’t know how to act. instead, you watch as yoongi drags his body inside, eyes on his feet and head hung low like a zombie. your heart breaks at how tired he looks.
“yoongi.”
his whole body tenses up and freezes for a moment before finally looking up to look at you. it seems as if his eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you, in your apron, cooking as if nothing happened.
“y–y/n.” he stutters as he straightens his posture, countenance brightening. “wha–what are you doing here?” he fixes his tie while walking over to you.
the loud clasps of you closing air-tight containers filled the room before you answer his question. “dad’s birthday is on saturday.” you start as you stack the containers inside the fridge. “if you’re not ready to talk about it, we should come to an agreement for the birthday gala.”
you had your back turned to him so you can’t see his face as he replied but you notice the way his voice drops in disappointment. “oh. the gala.”
you don’t understand. what was he expecting? for you to take back your word on the divorce? you saw how his face brightened when he saw you in the kitchen. you hate how he is so obviously disappointed when he realized you were only here to talk about the gala. you hate how he hasn’t contacted you in two weeks. it’s so yoongi of him to give you space when he feels, or rather assumes, you need it. you hate how he doesn’t understand that the space was for him–for him to decide whether to correct his wrongs or to put an end to it. you hate how he hasn’t fought for you. you hate how much you wish he would ask you to take him back. you hate that because of him–because of her, you can’t stay. but above it all, you hate yourself.
you hate that even if you’ve decided to put an end to it, you can’t help but feel regret.
the gala arrives faster than you hope it would.
when you and yoongi had the conversation in the penthouse, you both agreed to go to the gala together like nothing happened. with that, he decided to forego the driver for tonight, personally fetching you from your apartment.
it was weird.
the agreement was you will act like there wasn’t to be a divorce in public, not when you were alone. yet when he arrives at your door, he holds a beautiful bouquet of a variety of flowers as if you were still dating. he opens the door to you with a charming smile and made jokes in the car as he hummed to the music on the radio like he was having fun.
his slim-fit single-breasted armani suit in midnight blue suits him like it’s second skin. he wears with it a black shirt with a silver-striped midnight blue necktie. it was nothing new to you. formal wear was something he wore often. but tonight, you had to stop yourself from drooling at how good your future ex-husband looked.
and how good he looked next to you.
complementing his midnight blue outfit, you wore an evening dress in the same color. it was nothing grand but it was classy. a tight-fit, spaghetti-strapped silk dress that hugged your curves, modest in front but backless to your lower back. on your neck and ears is a simple set of diamond necklace and earrings your father has gifted you on one of your birthdays.
everyone greeted you with big smiles as you strode into room with his hand on your waist. you were the l/n’s only daughter, after all. and beside you was the famous min.
the night went by easily. the two of you faked your smiles here and there. the two of you weren’t just born into your position in your companies, you both knew how to act and earned them. just like that, it was easy to pretend that you were both very in love.
well, there wasn’t much pretending on your part before.
after you had made your greetings to your parents and yoongi’s and when all of the guests are mostly seated and has left you alone, yoongi and you sat side by side on one circular table. your father was about to make his birthday speech.
“y/n. yoongi.”
kim seokjin greets you with a sigh of relief as he sat down beside yoongi. “thank god the hags has left you alone. i was bored in the corner watching it all end.” he sits beside yoongi and you gave him a smile.
you’ve always liked seokjin. he was a good friend not only to yoongi but also to you. he might not be the ceo type like his brother namjoon but he has his own charms. not finding his passion in business, he turned to modeling and acting instead and gave the position to his younger brother. you trust that he will take care of yoongi when you can no longer do it for him.
“tell me about it.” your head whips to your best friend that now sits beside you.
there is a sense of relief that flashes to you when the two people you both trust are now beside you. it’s as if they were your safe zone. jungkook had always been your person and seokjin was yoongi’s. they are the first person to know everything about you two, even if there are no words said.
you can’t help but wonder what they think. do they think you are making the right decision?
“don’t look so down or people are going to notice.” jungkook whispers in your ear through a smile.
you glare at him and was about to reply with a comeback when the lights dimmed, indicating the program was about to start. your father walks to the platform gracefully. ever the sophisticated man, everyone’s head turned to him as he moved. he clears his throat before speaking.
“good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
whatever words that come out of his mouth were a blur to you after the greeting. it was the same every year, anyway.
instead, your mind drifts to the person beside you. next year, at the same gala, he would not be sitting next to you like this. it’s funny how a seat symbolizes something so important to you.
being married, it was always a given. you save each other a seat because you belong beside him. knowing that the spot next to you won’t be his anymore, it breaks your heart because it was always his to own even if the day that he won’t be sitting there comes.
it’s such a shame your spot next to him is borrowed. as much as you want to, you can’t have the seat beside him anymore.
yoongi tenses beside you. you are so beautiful with your hair fixed like that. he can’t take his eyes off of you. he wants to memorize every detail of you so he can take it with him everywhere.
he figured that he can’t let you stay at an unfair relationship. he knew you were right. it has to end.
you loved him more than he deserved. he shouldn’t have loved you because of her. he should have loved you because you were you.
with his time left with you, he would at least try to make things right.
his hand twitches on his side as he stared at yours that lay prettily on your lap. the silver band around your ring finger glistens in reflection to the light of the room. he remembers vividly when he bought it.
the diamond engagement ring that sits next to it was the very same ring he planned on buying for her.
his bullshit plans.
his plans for her, he fulfilled them with you like a fool.
so adamant on doing the right things as if you were her, he didn’t realize he was doing the wrong things for you. it didn’t make him a better man or a better lover. it made him hurt you instead.
“i’d like to give thanks to mr. kim namjoon, who is our partner in a new deal arranged by my one and only beautiful daughter. a round of applause for these two amazing young people, everyone.”
your father mentioning you pushes out his thoughts as you give a thankful smile to everyone now looking at you. his gaze drifts over to who you were looking at.
namjoon, his friend’s brother. the cunningly smart ceo of the kim enterprise. yoongi had always admired his leadership skills. besides admiration, there might even be a slight envy of namjoon being a natural leader. he was rivals with him in business school. the guy was awfully talented and being seokjin’s closest friend, he knows that one of the reason seokjin gave up his spot for the ceo position is because he knows that his younger brother was far more capable than him. well, that and he just despises business classes.
yoongi doesn’t miss the way namjoon gives you his dimpled smile and a small nod of appreciation from his seat. he can’t help but feel a slight burn in his chest. seokjin never kept it secret that namjoon has a crush on you even before the two of you got together. he knows that it wasn’t the disrespectful kind. namjoon never crossed his line or sought after you. in fact, yoongi thought him to be too respectful, too nice, and too perfect. it made him insecure.
before, he was confident in your love because you chose him out of all the men at your feet. you gave him your love. now, he wasn’t sure you made the right choice.
gathering all the confidence he could have from his seat, he reaches for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. you don’t act surprised nor look at him but he vaguely feels you freeze in his hold.
he squeezes your hand lightly and all your tense muscles break loose. just like that, he feels your hand grip his softly. as if you were telling him it’s okay.
this one action was telling him that you still love him—you still find your home in him. it breaks him to know that you love him so much more than he ever did. it breaks him to know that if he asks, there is a great possibility that you will take him back. and god does he want to.
he doesn’t think he could take seeing you with another man but that would be selfish of him.
sooner or later, he has to let you go. for your sake.
you had your meal normally. the dessert does not taste as sweet with the silence between the two of you. seokjin and jungkook does all the talking, bickering like two siblings like they always do.
min yoongi was hard to read. how could he just hold your hand like that? maybe you were reading too much into it. this can’t be like this any further. you have to know what’s on his mind. he has to talk to you soon about it.
a shadowing presence towers behind you, urging you to look behind and see where kim namjoon stands. he’s on his feet, standing while holding a champagne glass on one hand and gives you a cute polite smile. he had finally approached you tonight. “mrs. min.” he greets.
you stand up from your seat in respect and greet him with a smile that rivals his. “namjoon, i told you to call me y/n.”
namjoon was older than you but not older than yoongi. although the three of you were in the same circle of people even before your parents introduced you to yoongi, namjoon was someone who just stood out to you since you were kids. you purposely sought him out for this deal because with him in it, it’s a sure success.
his eyes shift to the man that was still sitting on your table. “mr. min.” he gives a small bow in his direction. only then yoongi looks up and nods. “mr. kim.” he doesn’t smile back. even if it’s not like him to hand out smiles at every chance he can, you sense that there is something odd with the way he looks at namjoon.
“well, i’m not really here to talk about work. i just wanted to greet my new partner and her husband.” namjoon says, scratching the back of his head.
“but i am.” your father appears at your side, placing a hand on your back and namjoon’s, bringing you closer with him.
“go and promote the project with namjoon.” he whispers directly at you. you roll your eyes and namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. when he sees your reaction, he lightly pinches your side. “go!” he urges with a whisper.
“but i’m here with yoongi.” you protest while namjoon watches the adorable father-daughter interaction.
“yoongi wouldn’t mind.” he answers before walking in the middle of you and namjoon and to yoongi who directed his attention to speaking with seokjin and jungkook. he lays a hand on his shoulder and leans in.
“son, do you mind me taking y/n for a while? i know you lovebirds can’t be separated but think it’s for the company.” your father asks with shit-eating grin. the word ‘separated’ almost made you laugh at the bitter thought. you saw yoongi’s smug smirk at when he said it too. if your father only knew.
“of course, father.” yoongi answers while looking straight into your eyes.
you and namjoon were quickly whisked away to meet the guests. if you didn’t know what the invitations of the party says, you would guess it’s a party for you and namjoon.
from time to time, you would steal a glance at your husband who was still sitting with your friends. he was in conversation with them but is in deep thought.
“you’re going to burn holes into my brother’s head.” seokjin teases with a smirk. yoongi takes his eyes off you laughing at something your dad’s friend was saying and glares at seokjin instead.
as if it wasn’t enough, jungkook agrees. “yeah hyung, tone it down it’s kind of scary.”
“shut up, you two.” he growls and crosses his arms.
jungkook gives him a cheeky grin and slides into your seat. judging by the look on his face, yoongi already knows the younger man has an agenda. “what happened?”
yoongi narrows his eyes. “what do you mean what happened?”
“you two went together so i assume you’ve talked, right?” jungkook asks with a tilted head.
seokjin nods, resting his head on his fist while leaning on the table. “yeah, yeah. you’re right. i’ve been curious too, jungkook. what happened, yoongi?”
yoongi glares at his friend again and looks ahead of him. you were still talking to investors with namjoon. “tsk. we haven’t talked about it.”
“what the fuck do you mean you haven’t talked about it?” seokjin whispers angrily, brows furrowed as he leaned closer to yoongi’s face.
yoongi avoids the gaze of his friends. “i still don’t know what to say.”
jungkook dramatically slaps a hand to his forehead. “it’s not rocket science, hyung! say ‘i’m sorry. i don’t want yuna. i want you. i’ll be better.’” he says while doing his impression of how yoongi talks.
“okay, first of all,” yoongi puts a finger up in front of jungkook’s face. ”i don’t talk like that.” yoongi shifts his body to the other direction and asks seokjin, offended. “do i talk like that?” seokjin only shrugs.
he turns back to jungkook again. “and it’s not that easy.” he says with a sigh.
“he’s right.” seokjin agrees. yoongi and jungkook turn to look at him, wondering who he agrees with. the receiver of the stares continues his words. “yoongi’s right. it’s not easy.”
seokjin purses his lips, gaze hardening on yoongi. it’s not like seokjin to become serious like this, he’s almost angry. “it’s not easy to decide whether he really wants y/n to stay because he wants her… or he’s just afraid to be alone again.”
yoongi freezes on his seat, stunned at his best friend’s words. he hears the drag of seokjin’s stare as he stands up. from his peripheral vision, he sees seokjin fix his suit before talking.
“whatever it is, be sure it doesn’t hurt you or y/n anymore.” he says softly and walks away, leaving the two men seated pondering to themselves.
the ride back to your apartment was quiet until he parked in front of it. it was all over. you had said good night to him and told him he did a good job tonight. all that was left to do for you was to step out of the car. you’ve detached your seatbelt and had your hand on the handle when yoongi grabs your arm, stopping you mid-way of your attempt to escape him.
“can’t i fix this?”
and there it is.
he said those four words that he always wanted to say to you. he asks the question like you had the answer when he knows all too well that the answer lies with him. but this wasn’t him literally literally asking you if he can fix this, this was him asking you if you’re willing to give him a chance.
you slowly turn to him. there were no emotions in your eyes. no sign of anything. he had never seen you like this.
“can you?”
he swallows and releases your arm, not answering the question you ask back to him. how can he when he doesn’t know the answer? he had never known the answer. he didn’t when seokjin asked him that question when they were drinking. he didn’t when he realized that he sees a glimpse of her through you from the very beginning. he didn’t when you left him the divorce papers and the letter. he didn’t when seokjin dropped that bomb on him earlier at the party. he doesn’t know even now, where you had your whole self open in front of him, waiting for his answer.
wait.
everybody had to fucking wait for him. what was so great about a man like him? maybe he deserves to be alone. maybe you were better off without him.
no. fuck.
this isn’t about him. this is about you.
his priority is you.
he doesn’t want to lose you but you shouldn’t wait around until he knows why. he’s a mess right now.
you hum in satisfaction at his silence and inhaled with closed eyes. you exhale loudly and yoongi realizes you were holding back tears.
“i’m just–” you pause, your voice trembling. you shake your head and open your eyes to stare straight at him with pinched brows and pleading eyes. “i’m not so sure about myself when i’m with you anymore, yoongi.”
“you built our relationship on her, don’t you realize?”
the tears in his eyes well up before he even knows it. he watches as your face contort into a sob. you were breaking down in front of him like this. he made you feel like this. the woman he married. the woman he loves at night and wakes up to everyday. his best friend. his girlfriend. his wife. the woman he loves.
the woman who taught him to love again.
his mother couldn’t stand him moping around anymore. “it’s been two years”, she said. “just one date”, she pleads.
that’s how yoongi finds himself attending a dinner at a hotel one evening. he was running a bit late from work so he barely made an effort to look nice, not that he was making an effort for the past two years. he hasn’t cut his hair for months and he just threw on a loose black suit jacket and pants that he had at the trunk of his car. he was even wearing jordans, for fuck’s sake. he may be a teeny tiny bit out of place. he’s surely going to get a scolding from his mother at the prime age of 29.
the valet takes his keys in front of the entrance. it’s a good thing his family is a regular here. he doesn’t have to worry much about how he looks from the staff. the guests however, are a different story.
the looks he received were not much to think about. he was spared a glance but everyone just went on their way. okay, maybe he exagerrated with how he saw his outfit. yeah. fuck that, he was almost late.
he strides through the lobby, determined to get there before the woman he was about to meet but he doubts you’ll be late. he has heard of you. the soon-to-be ceo of the company that owns these hotels.
he can feel holes burning through his head, sensing that someone was staring at him. great. he’s being judged now like he expected. could this day get worse?
he shakes his head and steps in the elevator, turning to see the view of the lobby. he finds that a woman was staring at him. unlike him, she was dressed as if she own the place, clad in a simple black dress that reaches the floor with expensive jewelry all around her neck and wrists. she doesn’t even break eye contact with him as the elevator closes.
are people so shamelessly judgemental these days? he asks to himself.
“yoongi! you’re here just in time.” yoongi’s father greets just as he enters the private dining room. he bows at the four people seated. he can actually feel his mother’s stare from head-to-toe and hear her internal screams from where he was bowing.
your parents greet him with wide smiles. the staff slides the heavy chair from the table and lets him sit. he thanks him before he walks away to get a bottle of wine that your father ordered.
“my daughter texted me she’s by the lobby already. she’ll be here any second now.” your mother informs yoongi and his parents.
as if on cue, the door swings open to reveal the last person the party has been waiting for.
there you stand. the same person who was staring at him in the lobby. he sees your eyes widen for a moment when your eyes lay on him but you quickly recovered with a smirk you sent his way. a second after, you greet everyone with a smile.
you charmed your way through the dinner. you were smart, cunning, beautiful, and kind. you told him and his parents of your ambitions and wants for the company. even if you were at an age of dreaming, yoongi had no doubt you will be able to achieve them with the way you carry yourself.
you had so much light in your eyes. it reminded him of when he used to be like you. it reminded him of a time when he used to dream with her.
he walks you to the lobby after the dinner as yours and his parents insisted. your driver was already waiting outside. you stopped just by the exit.
“sorry for staring here in the lobby earlier.” you say with a genuine smile and walked again. yoongi was a bit shocked you would even bring it up. were you disappointed that he was the one you were meeting?
“it’s just that i smelled you when you passed by and you smell so good.” you explain as he follows you out of the doors. his eyes widened at your words. you weren’t staring because of his underwhelming style?
“it wasn’t because of what i wore?” he blinks, dumbfounded.
“what’s wrong with your clothes?” you look him up and down, examining. “you look hot.”
he was taken aback at your straightforwardness. “i’m a bit underdressed, aren’t i? few people were staring too.” he lightly argues, tilting his head as he fixes his jacket. the car door was already opened to you by your driver and was just waiting for you to come in.
“they were staring because you’re handsome, dude.” did you just call him dude? you huff before muttering. “you know for an old guy, you’re really mean to yourself.” dude, old guy, mean. he’s astonished at your choice of words.
“anyway, i gotta bounce. see you on our first date!” you jump in the back seat of the car as you said it. the driver shuts the door in front of him.
“i haven’t agreed?” he mumbles to himself a little too loud and sees you roll down your window.
“you will!” you give him a cheeky smile and place a hand over the rolled down glass window that was still slightly peeking out. “you haven’t told me what perfume you wear!” you giggle and finally roll up your tinted windows.
the car drives away and he’s left standing outside of the hotel, still dumbfounded at your character. he feels a bubbling feeling in his chest and he smiles. what was he so worried about today anyway? with that thought, he laughs to himself, not caring about the stares of passerbys.
that very next day, he texts his mother to arrange a first date with you. not because you called him handsome, or old man, or mean.
he agreed because for the first time in two years, you made him genuinely laugh.
his left hand gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. the stare you gave him, your tired eyes begging him to say something.
“i don’t want to lose you. that’s all i know.” yoongi admits.
you press your lips together in a downward smile and shake your head, sniffing before talking.
“that’s not enough, yoongi. i’m sorry.” the words leave your mouth steady, as if you put the last of your energy in it. then, you exit the car, leaving him all alone in the cold-conditioned vehicle.
at the age of 27, yoongi lost who he believed to be the love of his life.
at the age of 29, he meets you.
at the age of 31, he marries you.
and at the age of 33, he lost you.
maybe in another universe, he was capable of loving you. in that universe, he would be cuddling you in bed, naked for each other to melt into. in that universe, he makes you genuinely happy with him. in that universe, he is completely and undeniably in love with you.
but in this universe, he sits across yuna in a restaurant. she arranged a private room for them, coincidentally in one of your hotels.
“you’re divorced?” yuna asks as she sips on her tea.
here she is in front of him, the woman he loved all his life. from high school to college and to that very last day on that cafe. she was his first everything. his first kiss, first love, and first heartbreak. what they had was a love burning of passion. eventually, the passion led him astray.
yuna used to be someone who cheered for him and he used to be someone who supported her.
“you won!” yuna jumps up and down with yoongi, their hands clasps together in glee. “we won!” yoongi screams back. the cheers of the people around them blended with their own screams in the gym.
he laughs wholeheartedly and wraps his arms around her, sweaty body pressing against hers. time seemed to stop for yoongi, he could feel his chest burning as he looked at her, eyes screaming with happiness that sources from something else than winning his basketball game.
“i think i love you.” yoongi blurts out.
yuna freezes in his hold, wide eyes staring at him in disbelief. he watches as a wide smile paints her face with unexplained happiness. she nods repeatedly and squeals.
“i think i love you too!”
it was then that the realization dawns on him. he’s in love with his best friend. since then and there, he vowed that wherever she goes, he will follow her as long as she wanted him too. and if she doesn’t, he will still support her from afar.
“yeah, yeah four months ago.” yoongi answers her. yuna nods and finishes chewing the slice of sashimi in her mouth.
“hmm, that’s not really long ago. how do you feel about that?” yuna asks, not even looking at him at all.
it’s funny. he used to think about this all the time–seeing her again. now she’s in front of him but he is nothing but a stranger to her. there were no bitter feelings in her. it’s like yoongi was nothing but a thing in the past that she has forgotten. meanwhile, yoongi is wrecked.
“i don’t know.” he used to answer with those three words a lot lately.
“i’m not going to beat around the bush. you know i hate doing that.” yuna uses a napkin to wipe her mouth. she had the same face, mannerisms, and voice yet yoongi can’t figure out the itching feeling at the back of his brain.
he hears yuna put her chopsticks down on the table. he readies himself to what she was going to say, chewing his food slowly as he anticipates what comes next.
“do you want to try again?”
he fantasized about this a lot of times–less when he met you but it was definitely there. it was the kind of fantasy that a person don’t tell anyone, the kind that one doesn’t allow oneself to feed into. but sometimes, when that person’s guard is down, it creeps in like a thief in the night, showing him his deepest desires.
“what?” yoongi freezes and looks up at her.
her. time is kind on yuna. she grew into a woman that she always wanted to be. she achieved her dreams and never stopped for anyone. silently, yoongi is proud of her still.
i’ll let you go so you can find her again. your words in the letter creeps into his head. now, her is asking him back. he should feel ecstatic. it was all so confusing that it’s making him all angry. all that pain he caused you and he has the right to feel disappointment?
“we’re both single. we both changed. we weren’t perfect, yoongi. we were kids. we outgrew each other before but we can try again now.” yuna explains further, as if proposing a business deal. funny. wasn’t she a doctor?
but she was right. they outgrew each other. yoongi focused on his work and gave in to the pressure of being his father’s heir. slowly, the support that he promised her faded away. he became restless and anxious. all yuna wanted was to love him like they promised.
“why do you believe in me?” yuna asked as she lays on yoongi’s lap on the couch. multiple medical books laying around them.
the memory was still fresh in their minds. yoongi had gone over his ways and helped her study, creating flashcards and powerpoint presentations for her reporting in class.
yoongi caresses her hair, making her melt in his comfort. “because you give me strength.” he pauses, contemplating if his next words. “and i want more for you.”
although wealthy, yuna’s social status wasn’t in the same level as yoongi’s. her parents were doctors but her father died even before she met yoongi. it’s her dream to be as good as her parents in the field of medicine. on the other hand, yoongi, heir to his father’s businesses, is just aiming to do well to please his father.
is business his dream? no. he doesn’t think he has one. business has been planted on his mind since birth but yuna, he can see that she’s a dreamer. in this day and age, dreamers are rare. he wants to protect that of her. she didn’t ask him to but it’s his way of showing her he loves her.
“i love you.” she replies. “i always will. i mean it.”
“i always will too.”
“no. really! even if we break up, i think you will always have a place in my heart.” and yoongi smiles, loving the thought because he knows that his heart will do the same.
“and i will always come back to you.” he says seriously, making yuna giggle in his hold.
“that’s cheesy.”
“whatever. i’m not kidding. so you can go ahead and fly how high you want. i’ll always wait for you.”
in sales, there are commutative contracts, meaning the two parties participating give and receive equivalent values. but there is an exception which is aleatory contracts, which are basically sales of chance or hope. think of it like a purchase for a lottery ticket. you put money in without expecting anything in return but a tiny chance of hope.
that was what yoongi was doing wrong. he’s been seeing his relationships like a commutative contract when it’s far from it. he thinks that true love should be give or take but it doesn’t have to be. sometimes, you just love unconditionally without expecting anything in return but a glimmer of hope.
you loved him like that. like a fool, he thought he was giving you enough back.
“what?” yuna urges when yoongi takes longer than usual to reply. “do you still love her?”
your face immediately flies to his mind. how were you doing? it’s been four months since the divorce was finalized. there hasn’t been contact with you since then. such a scandal shook everyone you knew. there wasn’t a clear reason how you explained the split. ‘our plans for the future don’t meet anymore so we have to go our separate ways’, is what the two of you agreed to say others. both of your parents weren’t exactly angry but they didn’t hide their disappointment.
in those four months, yoongi buried himself in his work. he heard you’ve been doing the same. taehyung, his assistant, is in your friend group so he catches up through him. your project collaboration seemed to be doing well, he’s been hearing a lot about it lately.
in the four years of his relationship with you, he did love you. he cared for you more than anyone else. you supported him in all his endeavors. you helped him pick himself back up.
yuna was great. seven years of relationship wasn’t something you can just throw away. he still loves her and regrets the mistakes he made. if asked, he would still say that he will stop the world for her. people often say that usually, we don’t end up with the person we would stop the world for. he didn’t want that before. it had to be her. but now he understands.
it took four months of being separated from you and yuna in front of him for him to finally know the answer.
stopping the world for a person is impossible. you want a person that moves through the world with you and holds you through it. he wants to keep it spinning for you.
“she made my world turn.” yoongi answered.
seated on the stool in front of the bar wasn’t something you expected to be this busy night. it all started when you forced information out of your friend, taehyung.
“there’s something you’re not telling me.” you eye taehyung as he sits besides you on your couch.
taehyung, jimin, and jungkook came over in your house to hang for the night. they’ve been doing that a lot more than usual for the past four months. no one was saying anything but all of you were sure what was the reason for that. now, jimin and jungkook is passed out on the floor on the mattress for some reason while watching the movie.
his eyes widened and the popcorn he was catch in his mouth stops mid air and falls on his lap. he gives you a nervous smile and tilts his head. “your interior is kind of… ugly?” he blurts out, making your jaw drop and slapping his arm.
“the fuck? you know what i’m talking about!” and he does. it’s probably not very healthy in your journey of moving on but you still ask taehyung about yoongi. when you were married, if there was someone else who knows about yoongi’s whereabouts, it was taehyung. he was your friend first before he was hired by yoongi. meaning, he was your ally. he told you of his schedules when you ask and helped you plan out dates with matching your schedules.
taehyung doesn’t tell you much more than he should now that you’re not together but he still tells you when he thinks you need to hear it. there’s only one thing you ask of him to tell you even if it crosses boundaries.
you have a great feeling that that’s about to happen tonight as taehyung has been avoiding your gaze since he came in.
“he did it.” you concluded.
taehyung drops his guard and nodded warily. you huff and look back at the television.
he met with yuna.
unfortunately, namjoon was dragged in your misery. coming from your dinner meeting, just as you were about to leave, you bit the bullet and asked namjoon if he wanted to join you for some drinks.
it was bound to happen. he’s no longer yours. still, you can’t help but be hurt. were they together now? does he hold her like he used to and give him his adorable gummy smile while they cuddle in bed?
“another glass of this, please.” you say to the bartender.
namjoon looks at you disapprovingly as he takes a sip on his cocktail, the same one he asked since you both arrived here.
“why are you not drinking? you don’t even drive.” you ask him, a little bit buzzed. you’ve grown closer to the man due to your meetings that you can now call him a friend.
namjoon’s cheeks raise, an amused smile forming on his face. he doesn’t answer your question and just shrugs. you gather you’re entertaining to him when you drink.
“why is it that you don’t drive? you have everything but a driver’s license.” you thank the bartender as he hands you your new glass of coke and rum.
namjoon chuckles. “you don’t know this but i’m actually really clumsy.”
“no way. you? you’re like really responsible and amazing and cool.” you slurred your words out like a kid, pouting and laying your head on the bar.
namjoon grabs your shoulder, gently guiding you to sit up. “don’t lean your head. you’ll get drunk faster.” he advises. when you take his advice, he continues. “and you don’t know this because i put up a really good facade but i’m actually really clumsy.” he sighs to himself, tapping the bar with his long fingers.
“what do you do when you’re outside and want to be truly alone then?” you ask, holding on to your glass. you don’t look at him when you ask this because the question was not solely for him. you ask the question for yourself.
“i bike.” he answers. you chuckle, amused. you picture a namjoon on his suit riding a bike because that’s the only namjoon you know.
“i can hardly imagine kim namjoon, the famous ceo of kim enterprises, to be riding a bike.” you didn’t mean it in a bad way. namjoon has always been a humble elite, no matter how ironic that sounds.
“i do it a lot actually. every morning.”
“really?”
“really.”
“why do you like it?” you were like a kid asking these questions.
“i see a lot when i bike. people, trees, i can the feel the air hitting my face, the exhaustion from the exercise, it’s therapeutic.” he says it so genuinely. he really enjoys riding bikes.
“sounds to me like you’re persuading me to bike too.” you tease for it really is tempting when it comes out from his mouth. this is probably why he gets so many investors.
“you can come with me.” he blurted out, making you look at him.
“i can?”
he gives you that damned dimpled smile. “yeah. how about saturday morning?”
you don’t think you have any important business on saturday morning and if you do, you’ll just have your secretary push it. you were too curious on what makes namjoon… namjoon to care. and again, you were a little bit buzzed.
“i’d like that.” you answer with a smile.
you were tipsy but you’re not completely out of it to not realize why namjoon was doing this. from your miserable drinking to acting like a fool in front of him, you know he noticed your gloomy era. this was him trying to console you as a new friend and you appreciate that he doesn’t ask questions.
drunk decisions are seldom good ideas. luck may be on your side this morning. the thing is, you never knew how therapeutic this was. but god, were you tired.
“do you not workout?” namjoon jeered when the both of you stop paddling for a while. he watched you pant excessively while glaring at him.
“this is not the time to mock my physical unfitness.” you say through your pants. namjoon hands you his water tumbler because your dumbass forgot to bring one. before you grab it, he takes off the lid for you. you quickly mutter a thanks before drinking.
“i just thought you were with that ass.”
you almost spit out your drink, blush spreading your whole face more than the one caused by your exhaustion. did namjoon just admit he stares at your ass?
before you even get the chance to reply, namjoon speeds off, leaving you to scream his name in protest.
despite the expected exhaustion, you were glad you came with namjoon to his morning routine. you never realized this part of the city was so beautiful. you were someone who was driven everywhere since you were a kid and all the biking you had done past your teenage years are on the stationary bike at the gym you rarely go to. you never realized a change of transportation brings a different view of the city.
you don’t easily catch up with namjoon. it took him to slow down with his pedalling for you to be inline with him. when you were back to his side, slowly pedalling this time, he started to randomly give you the names and facts of the trees and plants you passed by. you found it adorable how much he knew about botany. it made sense how he goes out of his way more than other businessmen when it comes to the environment. although it’s a reality that capitalism and environmental care can hardly co-exist, you can see from his work that namjoon tries hard.
“i’m not very good at things people are normally good at. when i feel that things are getting too tight, looking at art keeps me grounded. sometimes all you really need is a moment of pause or to step back and see the bigger picture.”
you ask him more of his hobbies, learning more about namjoon was an unexpected delight. he is so different from his reputation. he’s actually pretty child-like and now you see why seokjin loves to take care of him even if people believe namjoon takes care of seokjin more. he tries cooking but he fails more than he succeeds. he often breaks a myriad of things. he’s scared of driving. it seemed to him that destruction follows him everywhere he goes and anything he does. except business. it’s the thing he’s good at. that, and growing his bonsais.
besides biking and taking in nature, he’s an art appreciator of any form.
“you get invitations to every museum in the country?”
“yep. if you want to go to a specific one, i can get them for you.” he suggests.
he has lead you to the riverside, stopping by to feel the air by the water. he leans on the railings as he drinks water.
“hm. biking and now museums?” you tease, hinting something. you weren’t ignorant to what seokjin says about his brother. still, you never thought it to be serious before but now you were testing the waters. it’s not healthy to lead him on when you aren’t ready for another relationship.
he shakes his head. “i know what seokjin blabs about. but really, i’m just trying to be a friend.” he confesses. “for now.” he adds.
you take his answer as it is and not press further. you and your companion’s silence grows heavy for a while, not in an awkward way but rather a comforting one. the scenery in front of you pulls you in, as if to not worry about anything.
it’s funny. you were always going on trips with yoongi, pulling him everywhere so you can create memories. your destinations were breathtakingly beautiful and known worldwide. you took pictures here and there but you don’t think you looked as much as you did now. why is it a river, one you see in your city everyday, is making you feel more than the wonders of the world?
it’s because in front of those landmarks, ocean, tourist spots, you see him in the front lines. loving yoongi is a privilege you will forever be thankful for. and if you were asked, you will do it all over again.
“do you know why yoongi and i didn’t work out?”
the raised brows on his face meant he didn’t expect the question. he purses his lips and shakes his head. “i only know what you’ve said to the others.”
“there really wasn’t much reason.” you tell him. “he actually was a pretty great husband, more than most of us can ask for.”
you began telling him the story and he listens attentively all throughout, nodding from time to time. whether it’s because of his comforting presence or the beautiful scenery, you don’t know why you spilled everything to him. regardless, you don’t think it’s something you will regret.
when you were done, he speaks. “it seemed he really loves you.”
what? “do you think i’m stupid for letting him go?”
“no, i meant from the outside. from my sight, it seemed he really loves you.”
“why do you think that?”
he takes a few second to answer, deep in thought. “i don’t know. call it intuition.” namjoon answers with a shrug.
you roll your eyes. “and who made your intuition reliable?”
“all of kim enterprise’ success.” he answers smugly.
you huff. “show off.”
“ha. i’m kidding. no ceo is great due to intuition alone.”
“yeah, shut up.”
you don’t know what namjoon was truly thinking, or perhaps, it’s truly intuition. your mind brings you back to when yoongi handed to you the signed papers.
the atmosphere in your previous home grows heavy and quiet as he puts down the papers previously in his hand. your eyes glower at the pieces of paper.
“so… this is it, huh.” you chuckle bitterly as you stare at his signature.
you were seated across from each other at the dining table in your penthouse. yoongi in his lounge wear while you went straight from work.
he doesn’t answer, forearms rested on the table. his slouched form made him look smaller in your eyes.
“i have one question.” you confessed, one that was lingering in your mind for a long time.
you don’t wait for his affirmation and continue. “how many things…” you inhaled. “how many things do you think about before you get to me?” he looks up at you, now looking into your eyes. “all those times you looked at me and saw her, do you even get to me?”
“because for me, i find ways to see you anywhere–the real you.” you continue. you don’t cry but you wanted to. but your body doesn’t allow you to cry. it’s as if there was something about baring yourself in front of someone isn’t something sad or worth crying for. it’s powerful.
“i won’t do it for long, though. i promise you.” you say and you mean it.
the two of you sat there in the dark, sitting with nothing to hear but the beat of your hearts. it all boils down to this. the two of you not moving, feeling each other out. there was no certain next move for either of you. two years of relationship and two years of marriage, abruptly cut. this is the last time you sit together as husband and wife.
“i’ll do the same.” he finally speaks. “i promise.”
your hand slowly creeps into his and holds it. his other hand goes over yours. the kiss of his touch pulls you in but you let yourself go.
you are letting him go.
more than a past lover, yuna was his best friend. he was spending most his days with her, learning what changed and what stayed with each other. today, he was having lunch with her at the hospital she transferred to from the states.
“she sounds wonderful.” yuna was genuine with her words as he told her about you.
“yeah. i was never lonely when i was with her.” yoongi agreed. yuna gives him a smile.
“how about you? were you lonely?” yoongi asked her.
“it’s hard not to be when we’re at this age and single.” yuna cracked a joke.
yoongi shakes his head, finding her words true. “you’ll find someone soon.”
“i have to now because you heartlessly rejected me.” yuna lightly stabs the fish on her plate.
yoongi chuckles but gives her a look. “i know. i know. i’m kidding.” she saves herself.
yoongi was glad yuna was back. he does love her a lot. it took them six years to finally say what they want to each other. they both had their faults and all are forgiven.
yoongi’s regret is that he couldn’t support her but in reality, they were supposed to grow apart to grow. it would never have worked out even if they did try. and even if they could try again, it was not the same.
they didn’t love each other anymore.
yoongi was in love with the thought of her and the thought of the boy he used to be. yuna was someone he supported with all of him. he did good. and he wanted to do better for you. that’s why he tried his best to please you. but it was exhausting him and he didn’t even know it.
his fault is that he got blindsided and forgot himself. internally and even if he wouldn’t admit it, he blamed you for it. so his mind started going back to how it all started which is yuna. he started comparing her to you and started seeing her in you. but he was too much of a coward to be alone to acknowledge it. it was all an endless cycle and he’s the problem.
“i know it’s been 8 months since the divorce, you know you can try again with her, right?”
the obvious answer was yes, he can approach you again. you can start again, he can go on his knees and beg you to take him back. but the first question is, will you accept him? and the next, should he? what if he just brings chaos to your life again? he doesn’t really want to bother you anymore.
“hey, hoseok!”
yuna calls someone behind yoongi. he turns his head to find a doctor who waves back at her. in his hands is a tray of food just like the one in front of him on the table.
“hey yuna. hey good looking stranger.” the man radiates good and happy energy as he approached the two of you. this is the first time he has seen a doctor this happy. yuna opens a chair for him beside her asking him to take a seat. he accepts the offer and sits down.
“hoseok, meet yoongi. yoongi, meet hoseok. i have a feeling that you two will get along.”
yoongi gives him a respectful smile and nod as he chews his food, not so cheery with meeting new people. “you can call me hobi.”
“wait, wait, wait.” hoseok rests his elbows on the table and leans in. “are you like, that ceo yoongii?”
yuna’s smile widens. “hold up, you know him?”
“hell yeah, i’m friends with kim namjoon. he’s a ceo too. do you know him?”
oh.
him.
he’s been hearing a lot about you two. it really is a small world, isn’t it?
“i’m familiar with him, yes.” yoongi answers.
hoseok nods. “yeah, we’ve been friends since i was busk dancing by the river during my pre-med days. we haven’t hung out in a while much since i got a bit busy with shifts but i think i saw you once or twice in the business section of the news.”
“that’s nice. hey, you’re kind of famous.” yuna adds in.
“namjoon’s a great guy and an even better ceo.” yoongi agrees.
“yeah, if you want we can all hang together. it’ll be a boys night out.” hoseok suggests.
yuna huffs, stabbing her fish once again. that poor dead fish, yoongi thinks. “y’all met two minutes ago and you’re already planning things without me?”
hoseok laughs, loud. “oh you’re right. it’s fine, you can come too. namjoon will probably want to bring his girlfriend anyway.”
it’s like yoongi’s hearing got better than usual as his ears were all in when he heard hoseok’s last sentence. “girlfriend?” he couldn’t possible mean…
“yeah, he’s been dating this girl y/n who he worked with. he’s been bringing her to his morning bike rides which is like a big deal because he never does that. and if he’s not busy with work, he’s like bringing her to museums for the past four months and stuff. that’s also one of the reasons we haven’t had time to see each other. but he promised we would hang soon.”
yoongi and yuna froze as soon as they heard your name. yoongi couldn’t even take in the next words hoseok rambled on after your name. hoseok kept talking and talking and all he can think about is you in namjoon’s arms.
he felt his heart go up his throat.
his chest physically hurt.
time froze for him. he doesn’t even notice yuna pinching hoseok and whispering something to him. hoseok’s eyes widened as he says sorry repeatedly.
he was bound to find out this way because since you both signed those papers, he was just another has-been person in your life; an outsider, if you will. if there was someone who he wanted for you, it would be namjoon. namjoon is the perfect guy for you. it was expected but it still hurt.
yoongi’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands up, his eyes gloomy and head down.
“it was nice meeting you, hoseok. but i think i have somewhere to be now.” he says and hoseok nods, saying sorry again.
“yuna.” he acknowledges her too as a form of goodbye.
“yeah, drive safe. i’ll text you later.” he nods at her and walks away, making his way home. a home without you.
“jungkook, jimin, what are you doing here?”
your best friend’s round twinkling eyes meets your tired ones as you entered your apartment. you shouldn’t have trusted him with your lock’s passcode. jimin is just focused on playing.
“jin and jimin wanted to try the new ps5 game and your tv is so much better than mine.” jungkook explains as he turns his eyes back to the screen in front of him.
“that’s dumb. you’re both rich and seokjin literally has a game room at home.” you replied with a straight face as you kick your shoes off.
“or maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing because he says you don’t hang out with your best friend anymore.” jin appears in your view with a water bottle in hand, giving you a teasing smirk as jungkook pouts.
“he’s jealous of namjoon.” jimin whispers in an obnoxiously loud way, purposely letting the younger man playing in front of the television to hear.
jungkook doesn’t deny or acknowledge what he heard and just huffs in annoyance. although you and jungkook were the same age, he often acts like a stubborn younger brother.
“why don’t you hang out with us next time, then?” you suggest, stepping in your living room and tossing your hand bag next to jungkook on the couch.
jungkook’s eyes widens but still doesn’t stray from the game. “i can do that?”
“why not?” jimin speaks for you when he sees your confused face.
jungkook finally looks at you standing then at seokjin who was now sitting next to him, now amused at the reaction on your faces. he leans back, his back meeting the couch rest.
“w-well, i kind of thought– nevermind.”
“you thought what?” you press on, raising a brow.
“that they were like, y’know…” jungkook scratches the back of his head.
it takes him a while to continue so seokjin does it for him. “dates.”
it was your eyes’ time to widen at the assumption, arms dropping in defense. “w-what? they were not dates!”
“i told you so.” jimin teases. jungkook glares at him. “to be fair, joonie told me they were not dates and i told him that too.”
“i’ve just been in a divorce. how would that make me look? how would that make namjoon and i look?” you groan before turning to head to your room.
you left your two friends arguing about their game in the living room while you freshen up. in the shower, you thought about yoongi. it’s been eight months. when is it okay for a divorcee to move on to another relationship? is there a definite time of moving on that would be deemed respectable to your previous one? have you moved on? will you move on enough to be open to date?
has yoongi moved on?
has he ever loved you enough to be someone he had to get over to?
you like to think that you were someone important in his life but you really wanted to be someone who made a dent on his like she used to. maybe that way, there would be a constant reminder of you in his life even now that you were gone.
is that bad? to wish you hurt him like she did?
knocks on your bedroom door snaps you out of your thoughts. you shout, letting the person know they can come in while you do your skincare routine.
“yo.” jungkook steps in, throwing up a random gang sign.
“what do you want now?” you feigned annoyance as he throws himself on your bed. his back rests on your headboard.
“i can’t check on my best friend now?” he crosses his arms and pouts.
you scoff and ignore the rhetorical question. “how’s taehyung?”
“my other best friend is completely fine, thank you.” he answers, childlike sass lacing his voice.
“i don’t think anyone associated with you is ever completely fine.” you raise your brows.
your best friend huffs, offended and now sitting to face you at the side of the bed. “you just want to know how your ex-husband’s doing. you can just ask me without asking taehyung. he’s my friend too.”
you tap your face one last time as you finish the last step of your routine, letting the product air dry as you face jungkook. “fine. how is he then?”
you hadn’t prepared yourself for the answer.
“i heard he’s seeing someone.” jungkook responded, eyes now heavy with seriousness.
you gulped, shoulder slumping and you don’t respond to your best friend.
he’s seeing someone? was it yuna? did they finally found each other’s arms? did he give her his gummy smile as he kissed her, telling her he had only truly loved her? did he sweep her off her feet with how long he have waited for her?
“i’m sorry. are you okay?” your best friend’s face written with worry as he asked you.
“is it yuna?” if it’s her, it’s okay. at least, you know he’ll truly be happy if it’s her.
“i don’t know. i only asked him if he’s doing better when i saw him at the bar one time. he said yes because he’s seeing someone now.” you nod.
jungkook bits his lip as he sees your stunned state but continues. “i didn’t want to tell you but… you seem happy with namjoon. so if you think can move on now… i think it’s okay.”
is it? can you really go forward with your life? do you even want to?
“get up!”
yoongi was awaken by a thud on his stomach. when his eyes fluttered open, he finds yuna holding one of his pillow, threatening to hit him again with it.
“fuck. what are you doing here at this hour?” he complains when he looks at the time. five in the morning isn’t exactly an ideal time for a guest in his home.
“shut up. get ready. we’re leaving in ten minutes.”
he doesn’t know what happened after those words. yuna basically dragged his corpse to do a morning routine and when that was done, he found himself sitting on the passenger’s seat of yuna’s car.
“where the fuck are we even going?” he says with close eyes.
yuna doesn’t answer and drove quietly. yoongi was too sleepy to press further or complain. instead, he let himself drift back to sleep as the cold temperature of the vehicle and the comforting scene of the morning lulled him back to it..
when yuna shakes him awake, he finds himself in a familiar place.
“why are we here?”
it was his and yuna’s university. yoongi hasn’t been here in a while. he admires the buildings that have aged well, if not hasn’t changed at all. “i was invited to a talk here later.”
“and?”
“i just thought you’d like to see it again.” yuna shrugged.
yuna led him to the field where they sat on one of the bleachers. there was not much people except for a few that were on their morning jog. how could there be? he doubts there’s a class at 6am.
the cold morning air fights against his thick maroon sweater that he threw on this morning. yuna and him sits in silence, letting the nostalgic view fill their thoughts instead of words.
“remember when we were kids?” yuna breaks the silence after a while “we had so many dreams.”
“i didn’t have much, really.” he scoffs.
“don’t say that.” yuna complains softly.
“what? it’s true.”
“no. i mean it. you’ve always downplayed your dreams. you had dreams.” yuna says seriously.
yoongi doesn’t answer. did he have dreams for himself? all he wanted was to become what his parents expected from him. yuna, however, had dreams for herself. she was determined to be a doctor even when all the odds were against her. that was the dream. he wanted to fulfill that for her.
some nights were like this.
“i don’t think I can do this.” yuna is breaking down on the bed with yoongi trying to calm down his girlfriend and roommate on his chest. she really is a smart girl but sometimes, it all just pents up inside and she couldn’t help but burst.
this is when Yoongi would come to her rescue. yoongi chuckles as he wipes her tears away. he doesn’t say anything at first and lets her cry in his arms. he lets the comfort of his warmth do the job of calming her.
yoongi loved the thought of being in service to the ones he loves. especially her. he loves how he is her anchor and how she immediately runs to him whenever she sees him. it’s like they were each other’s person.
“if you can’t do it anymore, then don’t.” yoongi suggests, looking down at her teared up swollen eyes that’s looking at him.
“what? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you. i think.” yoongi suggests some more.
yuna pouts. “okay, rich kid. I don’t accept hand overs.”
he snorts. “they wouldn’t be handovers if you’re my wife.”
yuna freezes in his hold. “wife?” If her cheeks were red from crying or blushing, yoongi wasn’t sure but he do hope it’s the latter.
yoongi raises a brow. “yes, wife.”
he could see her hold back her smiles and bites her lips instead. “hm.”
“what you smiling for?” Yoongi teases.
“nothing. that’s oddly comforting but I think I’ll go back to studying now.” yuna giggles before jumping off the bed. she wasn’t wearing anything but his shirt and panties and from his spot in the bed, he could see her ass very well.
“is this you rejecting my suggestion?” yoongi smirks and places his arm beside his head, raising his line of view.
“It’s very very tempting, mr. min. I’ll tell you that.” she turns to him from her seat and continues. “make that suggestion a proposal at the right time and i’ll get back to you.”
“my dream was you.” he blurted out.
neither of them were looking at each other but their presence screams louder than any sight could ever behold. they were completely open to each other.
“and that destroyed you.”
“it didn’t. you did. when you left.”
it must’ve been the wind. or the exhaustion. or the way the university still feels the same as it did years ago. there was no bitterness, no pain, no longing, just the plain, old, truth.
“seven years. you just threw it away like that. why?”
no voice was raising. if someone was to look at them, they would think they’re just having a casual morning conversation, not baring themselves to each other.
“because you never had the guts to do it.”
yoongi couldn’t answer.
“you never had the guts to say you were tired. you just gave and gave and gave. you were chipping away and you didn’t even notice. instead, you got angry at yourself. you got exhausted. and i know you blamed me but you never showed it to me. maybe you didn’t even realize it yourself that you blamed me. you just sealed it all away so you could be there for me.”
“and even when i broke up with you, you never fought for me to stay. because you were disappointed in yourself even when i told you over and over that it was not your fault. you didn’t have the guts and you still don’t have it now.”
yoongi grips the edge of the bleachers. “why are you saying this?”
“i’m saying i’m sorry.”
“for what?”
“i’m sorry i didn’t built you up like i should’ve. i’m sorry because i expected more from you. i was angry because i thought that you loved me less because you didn’t give me as much time as you did… but you shouldn’t have to choose me over yourself.” she takes his hand beside her and puts it in her grasp.
“you came!”
yoongi appears with a bouquet of flowers at the backstage of the auditorium. yuna had just presented her research that was chosen by the professors and doctors.
it really was a surprise because yoongi was already busy with his master’s degree and learning the business with his father. the last time yuna had something as big as this, yoongi had missed it. he never forgave himself as yuna was more than disappointed with that happening.
and that’s why when yoongi checks his phone that night, he could see the number of miscalls from his friends and father. he ignores them and goes back to sleeping beside his lover.
not knowing that she was looking at his screen the whole time and realizing she isn’t good for him anymore.
she peppered kisses on the back of his hand. “it was never your fault and i’m okay now. i’ve reached my dreams and you had too. even if you say your dreams wasn’t a sob story like mine, they were still dreams… and i am so so proud of you.”
“you look so handsome!” yoongi’s mom squeals as she takes a picture of yoongi on his graduation gown.
yoongi gives her a peace sign, but his eyes search around for only one person.
“she should be coming soon, son. didn’t you tell me she had to be at the hospital today? and we still have dinner.”
they didn’t understand. he wanted her here at his moment of success–a milestone and she wasn’t here.
yoongi watches as she caresses his hand. “i’m sorry for hurting you and i want you to know that i release you from that promise. i’m here now. you don’t have to wait for me anymore. it’s my turn to support you.”
“all the pain we’ve caused each other, all these years… i’ve thought of you and loved you. they weren’t for nothing because even when you weren’t there for me anymore, your support is what i carried on. you made me who i am, yoongi. i will always be thankful for that and i will always love you just like i promised.”
“what do you want me to do?” yoongi looks up at the sky, preventing the tears wetting his eyes from falling.
“i think you know what you want to do.” yuna smiles.
still looking up, yoongi cages his lower lip with his teeth, nodding in reply.
yoongi is rarely nervous.
but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.
he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.
it’s now or never.
you open the door to the person that’s been on your mind for days, for weeks, for months.
yoongi was in front of you, paper bag in hand.
he was wearing his casual clothes, a plain pullover and sweat pants. he gave you his cheeky smile. “hi.”
you couldn’t believe you eyes and you take a minute to finally realize the situation you were in. you shake your head to bring yourself back. “h-hi! w-what are you doing here?”
yoongi was still standing there awkwardly and raised the paper bag in his right hand. “i brought you cheesecake. can i come in?”
“yes. i suppose you can.” you answer, unsure what was his agenda with his visit. you move out of the doorway, letting him inside your home.
this wasn’t your home and he had never been here before. still, he heads to the kitchen and gets all the needed utensils for the cake. he places them on your dining table, servicing you like he used to when he cooked for you.
you watched as he moved in your home as if a divorce never happened. yoongi was just like this, you think. he was just genuinely caring. one of his love languages had always been acts of service.
“eat. this one’s your favorite.” he had cut up a slice for you already.
he didn’t even prepare one for himself.
“what about you?” you ask.
“i won’t take long.” he continues. “i think.”
you sit down in front of the plate with the slice, taking a fork and a small piece of the cake. you know he wouldn’t let you talk if you haven’t eaten what he prepared. when you chewed the sweet piece of dessert in your mouth, you couldn’t deny you hated it. you loved it and he could see that, you were sure with the smile he was giving.
“why are you here again?” you finally ask.
“i just have one question.” he answers taking a sit beside you at the head of the table. you take in how much he has changed over the months. his hair was longer now it was needing pins to hook on his hair, and it was so so fluffy.
you take a piece in your mouth again, nodding. “yeah, sure.”
you weren’t really expecting the next words to come out of his mouth.
“are you happy dating namjoon?”
you were glad cheesecake isn’t a very chokeable kind of food because if it was, you would be fighting for your life right now. instead, you froze and look at him with wide eyes.
you don’t answer quick.
are you dating namjoon?
no, right?
there wasn’t a label established like that. but it’s obvious that something’s going on between the two of you.
and you like namjoon. he was sweet, insightful, and loveable. he was a good friend and would be an even better boyfriend.
“i…” you trail off your words, never having to said the words out loud before. you never thought it would be in front of your ex-husband, either.
“i like him.” you finally say.
you could literally see yoongi’s shoulder slump and his face fall. but he still smiles. he gives you a pained one and does the thing where he scratches the back of his with his pointer finger. “heh. i guess i’m a little late now, aren’t i?”
“w-what are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely confused if you’re getting the right idea.
“i’m saying i’ve gone a little late at winning you back.” his head lowers, not meeting your eyes.
your brows furrow. “aren’t you seeing someone? yuna?”
it was his turn to be confused. “no? yuna and i are just friends now.”
“but jungkook said you said you were seeing someone? at the bar?” you point out.
“oh. that was my therapist. i’m seeing a therapist.” he explained and your mouth forms an ‘o’. what the fuck jungkook, you think.
“okay, wow. misunderstandings. okay. sorry. jungkook was being dumb.” you chuckled and drink from your glass of water.
“does that change things?” yoongi speaks up. he gulps before continuing. “me not dating anyone?”
his eyes bore into yours as he awaits the answer. you think about it carefully.
does it change things? he is available now and he wanted you back. clearly, things have been going well for him. he was just friends with yuna and has been seeing a therapist. he was doing better.
but is that enough for you to risk getting hurt again? is him saying he wants you back enough for you to accept him again? well, he does say i love you to your face everyday while thinking of someone else entirely before.
does taking the risk involve waiting for him? you can’t just wait for him again like before–wait for him to see you, to look at you, to love you.
he was doing better but he isn’t better enough for you to take him back.
frankly, you don’t think you could get hurt anymore. you don’t want to put yourself in that position anymore. if you do, you feel like you’ll lose yourself in hoping. you can’t just wait for him forever.
you can’t help but be scared to fall back to him again. what he is over you is the love you have for him but what you have over yourself is the decision you make.
even if he offers himself to you in bare, you had that choice for yourself.
“no.” you answer firmly. “i still like joon.”
you thought namjoon only gets invited to museum’s inside the country. turns out, the man was an art connoisseur from around the world.
jungkook and jimin was dragged along with you to paris. your best friend acted like he didn’t want to be here but proved himself otherwise when his eyes sparkle at everything he sees in the city. he does have a hidden love for art and painting. jimin, on the other hand, is loved by the locals here, which is very rare for paris. one artist was so mesmerized by him that you think he’s practically his muse now. you won’t be surprised if you see your friend’s face in one of these museums in the future.
you only ever attend museums because they are one of the disguised ways for business people to socialize and mask it as some art appreciating good time. rich people who don’t give a flying fuck about these paintings only use them to flex and flaunt their wealth.
but here, namjoon talks to you in every painting, sometimes just staring at them with you. it’s really amazing how he knows so much about these artists and their art.
how does he store all those information? you literally didn’t even need the guide.
“this one’s famous for his dotting.” he points to the one in front of you. jungkook reacts about how sick the drawing is or something like that and you just agree. whatever your companions were saying, you just tune it out.
it wasn’t that you don’t care about the paintings or something like that. it’s just that your feet were killing you. you weren’t informed that this museum is literally so freaking huge. you had been walking this madness for two hours and you should’ve worn your white sneakers instead.
and just like all times, namjoon notices. he always does.
“hey, you okay?” joon asks as he looks down at your unresting feet as you shift on one foot to another repeatedly. “does your feet hurt?”
“no, i’m fine. let’s finish the tour.” you lie through your teeth.
namjoon sighs and looks over at jungkook. “can you guys wait here?” jungkook agrees and namjoon leaves in a hurry. no doubt about to do something about your feet.
“why did you wear heels, anyway?” jungkook asks, a little bit judging. jimin smacks the back of his head. “because this was their date!”
jungkook’s hand flies to the area on his head. “if this was a date, why are we here?”
“because you asked to come with to the museum like a dumbass.” jimin rolled his eyes.
jungkook raises a brow. “well if this was a date, why did namjoon insist we come with? and pay for our flight and hotel and stuff?”
it was jimin’s turn to be doubtful, and he looks over to you who was just listening to the conversation. the two wait for you for confirmation.
“don’t look at me. i don’t know why he asked too.” you shrug.
it was true. namjoon did ask you to a date trip in paris. he literally labeled it a date so you were a bit confused when he told you to bring some friends.
the three of you stand in silence after, quietly admiring the artworks in the room.
a few minutes later, namjoon comes back with paper bags in hand. he guided you to sit at one of the stoned backless benches in the middle of the room. jimin and jungkook continues the tour on their own.
he brings out a box of sneakers, beige ones that complement your nude outfit. he also brings out bandages for your feet. he starts to kneel down in front of you and you scramble to pull him up.
“no, no. i can do it myself.” you argue, making namjoon stop mid-air.
he chuckles and that damned dimpled smile comes out. “can you just let me do this for you?” he raises his brows and you sigh.
“fine.” you back down and he proceeds kneel down.
he began putting bandages on the areas you needed. he asks you if you needed more and you shake your head.
“well, would you look at that? it’s a perfect fit.” namjoon says when your foot slips in the sneakers. you smile, looking down at the beautiful man in front of you. he slips the other one in and does the shoelaces.
when he was done, he pats your foot and stands up. “why don’t you take a walk and see, cinderella?”
you giggle. you giggle like a school girl and stand up. the sneakers were far more comfortable than your heels as you walk. “they’re perfect, thank you.”
namjoon nods. “anything for you, babe.”
the rest of the trip flows easily. jimin and jungkook chose to be away from the two of you after the museum and namjoon brings you to a restaurant for dinner. two days later, you were heading back to korea.
namjoon sits beside you in first class and you were having a glass of champagne.
“thank you.” you start, fingers playing with your glass. “for this date trip, really.”
namjoon bites his lower lip and nods. “thank you too.”
“i just have one question, though.” you tilt your head to the side and purse your lips.
“yeah, what is it?” namjoon replies.
“why bring jimin and jungkook if this was a date?” you look over by the middle section of first class where jungkook and jimin were probably fast asleep. you wouldn’t know because there were privacy dividers. but you were definitely sure because of how hard they partied last night and how wrecked they’ve come back to the hotel.
“well, a little birdy told me something about you and flights.” namjoon explains and you were at a loss for words. how did he know about your fear of flying? was it seokjin?
“remember what i said?” namjoon speaks again, and you furrow your brows at the sudden question.
“what exactly?”
“when you told me why you and yoongi got a divorce.” you freeze. that was months ago. why was he bringing it up now?
“oh. that.” he was talking about how he thinks yoongi still loves you.
“i told you it was just intuition because i didn’t have proof.”
you take a sip of your drink and set it down again. “okay… then why are you bringing it up now?”
“because i have one now.” he fishes something from the inside of his jacket and you follow his hands with your eyes.
he hands you a white envelope. you warily accept it and observe it with your keen eyes. “what’s this?” it doesn’t look special but whatever it is, it had a relation to yoongi.
“it’s a letter. i want you to read it when we land home.” namjoon states the obvious.
“i had a really fun time, y/n. thank you.” he gives you his dimpled smile again. this time, there was no denying the hint of sadness in them.
whatever that was, it sounded like a goodbye.
namjoon suddenly changes the topic, whisking you away from the loud thoughts. you quickly hide the envelope in your pocket. you had a feeling that you want to give namjoon all your attention right now.
the flight back consisted of sleeping, talking, eating, and laughing with namjoon.
you both undeniably had a great time and you wouldn’t exchange the experience with anyone.
“so, this is it.” namjoon says as the both of you stand in front of the airport, staring at the streets where it is raining.
“thank you, joon. paris was a dream with you.” you say genuinely.
he gives you a genuine smile this time, nodding once in acknowledgement.
“but it would’ve been perfect if we kissed.” you blurt out.
namjoon grins and shakes his head. he steps closer and places a hand on your face. your lips met and they move softly against each other. his lips were soft, but a little bit on the rough side. the smell of his faint perfume, the cold skin from the airconditioned airport, the curve of his dimple in your hands, and the tingling feeling in your chest, it was all giving a different kind of warmth from the kisses you had in your life time.
he releases you not long after, looking at you longingly.
he steps back again, widening the space between the two of you back to how it was before. “that was perfect.” he says and chuckles. you nod, “yeah. it was.”
“well, i’ll see you around, y/n.”
“you will.”
now that was, for sure, a goodbye.
back home, the paper on your hand suddenly feels heavy and you were anxious to see what’s inside. but curiosity overpowers the anxiety and you open the envelope to see the letter containing it.
the folded paper you bring out had a ‘for your eyes only, kim’, written on the corner. your eyes widen. the writing was too familiar for you not to know who this letter is from.
mr. kim namjoon,
before i start with anything, first, i want to say congratulations on the relationship. well, i’m not happy for you but it’d be rude to say that. second, i’m sorry if my writing turns sloppy. i pondered doing this in email but it didn’t felt heartfelt enough. now that i think about it, i think the last letter i’ve written like this was to my parents after being forced in high school in one of those stupid english homeworks. so again, sorry if it’s bad. maybe i should’ve written y/n one of these letters, i guess that’s just another mistake i have to regret. but enough about me, this letter is about her.
i know that we’re not the best of pals, and i swear that i’m not doing this for you. i’m doing this for her. i may not be in the position to be this demanding but all i want for her now is to be in good and better hands. i need you to be that person now that you have her.
the first time i saw her wearing our ring, it was the turning point of my life. after that, she was every day of my life. and i took it for granted. i didn’t hold her the way she needed to be held. i didn’t look her like i should.
so now that you’re about to be her everyday—her person. i only ask you to hear these things that may be helpful. i may not be a good lover but i was an okay husband. i didn’t love her right but i still knew her and took care of her for four years.
she likes iced coffee in the morning from a very specific shop but if you make one for her, it’ll be her favorite because it’s you. she used to like it with lots of milk but strong caffeine. on nights she stays up for work, she prefers warm tea. lots of it. have it ready in a pot beside her. she loves midnight cookies too. the chewy ones.
when she has her period, buy her chocolates. not the fruity ones. she prefers the dark chocolates but won’t say no to milky ones. she doesn’t like white chocolates. nuts are okay too. no raisins. she hates raisins whenever and wherever you put it.
she loves spicy food but it will make her sneeze a lot after. she’s a bit allergic to shellfish, especially shrimps but she will still eat them because she’s stubborn. please always have medicine in stock.
she likes shopping for new dresses when there’s an occasion but loves it if you come with her and help her choose. you have to react really well. but you don’t really have to try because she’ll look good even with a garbage bag anyway. she’s very meticulous about clothes too. one faulty sewing and she’ll see that.
she doesn’t like people who chew loudly or talk with their mouths full. i don’t think anyone does anyway.
she watches the same movies over and over again but she will cry over it as hard as she did last time. she doesn’t like when people talk too much on movie night but that doesn’t mean you don’t react at the scenes. if it was a horror movie and she seemed a bit freaked out at the end, leave a dim light open when you sleep. let her hung to you when you sleep too.
when she has to fly out of the country for work, if you can’t go with her, make sure jungkook is there. she won’t admit it but she still gets scared when flying alone even if her secretary’s with her. it has to be someone she trusts.
she loves when you smell good. so choose your perfume well.
remind her of her keys or wallet because she keeps forgetting them. when you ask her to buy something, you have to tell her at least three times. don’t just say it like “oh hey can you buy me this when you go out?”, she won’t remember it.
she shits a lot. her metabolism is amazing, really.
she makes a face when you say she’s beautiful. sometimes, she even glares. but still, tell her she’s beautiful. because she will. she thinks and says you’re more beautiful than anyone else.
she loves more than anyone and she deserves to be loved more. even if you look through her eyes and see someone else, she will still love you endlessly. she loves so pure like an amateur magician, even if everyone else can see the trap door, she continues her show with a smile.
when she loves you, her plans don’t matter as much. because when she loves you, you are her plan. so you have to remind her to make plans for herself too. don’t make her drop everything for you.
when she loves you, even if you don’t give her what she gives you, she will still love you. even if she searches all the corners of the earth just so she can find a bench that fits the two of you perfectly, she will. she would make jokes that make you laugh when you’re down. she would stay up all night learning a recipe if you say you want that dish.
these are just some of the things you have to keep in mind. but really, it doesn’t matter. because when she loves, she gives it her all. it’s not hard to fall in love with her. there’s no doubt about it.
i used to think that loving should be passionate and overflowing. now i realize that love shouldn’t be burning, it should be just warm. the kind of warmth that a thick blanket gives you in winter. the warmth that a newly baked chocolate chip cookie offers you when you get home tired. the kind that gives you comfort, never hurting you. so, i ask you to give her more than what she gives. love her like she’s home.
it may be too late for me but not for her. she deserves to be loved more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow. please continue to love her. more than i do. more than anyone else.
min yoongi.
the thing is, the heart doesn’t have a specific size. it isn’t only filled with one person. yoongi has been receiving all your love and he began filling it with you. after yuna’s and his closure at the university, yoongi knew what he had to do.
the drive back to his house after yuna’s talk in the university was fast. he called up taehyung as soon as he got home.
“i need you to get me kim namjoon’s address.” he orders before taehyung could even greet him.
“hello to you too, sir. his personal address, sir? that’s kind of unethical.” taehyung teased. he ignores his secretary although he had a point.
“i don’t give a fuck, tae. get to work.” with that, he ends the call. he admits it was a little bit rude but whatever. he needs his address.
after preparing everything, yoongi sees taehyung had texted him the address an hour ago. he grabs a coat from his closet and heads off.
he was greeted by maids when he arrived and ruined the doorbell button with his unending pressing. they allowed him through the gate but didn’t let him through the doors of the house. he was asked to wait by the small garden in front of the house
the exterior of namjoon’s home was very modern and green, trees and plants surrounding it. you probably loved the different kinds of plants here. the flowers too. yoongi never cared about these things.
yoongi is rarely nervous.
but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.
the letter.
he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.
it’s now or never.
yoongi was shaken awake by the sound of his doorbell being rang multiple times and there was unending banging on his door. he realizes that he his friends has a knack of being waking him in the middle of the night when the country is in deep sleep.
god, who and what is it now? he thinks to himself.
yoongi pushes himself off the bed and heads to his door. barely even having his eyes open, he peeks at who was at the door on his security camera.
he was pretty sure he was dreaming right now with what he’s seeing.
he was pretty sure because that couldn’t be you, drenched in what seemed to be rain. your hair was sticking to your face and you look you had been somewhere before this.
he scrambles to open the door, now seeing you in the flesh. your brows were furrowed together and your cheeks were puffed. your face wasn’t just wet from rain, you had been crying.
before he could even ask what you were doing here or even just speak, you throw something in his direction which he caught and clutched to his chest. he looks down and sees a familiar paper in his hand.
“w-what–”
“what’s this?” her voice was laced with venom, beautiful but incredibly pissed.
yoongi sighed. “you weren’t supposed to see this.”
you shake your head, stepping inside and slamming the door behind you. “no, but i did! so you tell me why!”
“tell you what?”
“why namjoon?”
“what do you mean–”
“you told this to namjoon but not me? you pour your heart out to him but not me?” you were no longer yelling. instead, your voice was at the verge of breaking.
you push him by his chest repeatedly when he doesn’t answer. “what is it? tell me!”
he stops your hands with his, caging your wrists in his grasp. “stop! i’m not sure what you want me to say.”
you tug your wrists from him and stare at him with fire in your eyes. “i’m asking you to tell me why you couldn’t tell me you wanted me and why. i’m asking you why you push yourself around.”
“i’m giving you what you said you want. you like namjoon and he deserved you more than me.” yoongi never raises his voice but you could definitely sense the boiling anger in his words.
you shook your head as the tears in your eyes were too heavy for you to speak immediately. “but what do you want?”
“you already know the answer to that.” he spat, raising his brows.
“no! i don’t! because all you gave me are a few words. i need you to tell me you want me, you love me, and why you do. you said all that shit to namjoon but not me! can’t you see? i need you to tell me that. how would i know if you don’t tell me? i need to be sure you love me before i take the risk of loving you again!”
you were out of breath after you screamed out your agony. yoongi could only stare at you with equally burning eyes.
and he pulled you in.
he pushes his lips to yours and held you close like you’d fade away if he lets go. his hand was at the back of your head, holding it firmly but not enough to hurt you. when you kiss back, it was like he could breathe again. like he was being chased by wolves and finally got away. like his world has finally turned at a normal pace because now you were here.
when he pulls away, you both stand there still holding each other with your cheeks flushed red. “i love you. it’s always been you.”
then he takes your mouth again, hands now wondering your body like he was sculpting it.
he pulls away, catching his breath while speaking. “i’m sorry. for everything.” then he presses his lips on your again. you could only focus on how he was here, kissing you like he never had before, like he was communicating with how he invaded all your senses.
he pulls away again, now foreheads touching each other. “please…” he says with closed eyes. “please love me again. make me yours. i’m all yours.” he kissed you again, making your heart skip a but as you gasped with a throaty sound against his lips.
he kisses you like he will never have enough, tongue exploring yours and everywhere. his hand moved around your body like it has a mind of its own.
before you knew it, he had led you to his bedroom and on his bed. he hovered over you as you both make out passionately.
then he stopped, pulling away to stare at your face beneath him. he smiled. then his tears started dropping on your face.
“why?” you mutter, placing a hand on his face, attempting to wipe any tears that fall as he fulls on breaks down above you.
“i love you so much.” he cries then buries his head on your neck. “please don’t leave again.”
your heart broke at yoongi’s plead. you were about to comfort him but you remembered what just happened. you laugh. you throw your head back and laugh. “stop crying, yoongs.”
he lifts his head and stares at you in the eyes like he was offended that you took delight in his misery.
“did you realize we just had our first fight?” and you give him a grin.
he looked a bit confused then he gets it, pulling you in a kiss again.
and the two of you lay there, making love until the morning.
© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.
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#yoongi imagine#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#yoongi divorce#yoongi marriage#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fluff#suga x reader#yoongi scenario#yoongi x y/n#bts angst#bts fluff#bts fanfiction#yoongi one shot#bts yoongi
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