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russellsppttemplates · 3 days

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We don't know anything about girls! (Oscar Piastri)

Lucas and Jack take the job of protecting their sister very seriously

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece, and this time it's dad!Oscar 🥹✨️🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Cw: reader is pregnant, childbirth, postpartum

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Daddy, we have a question for you", Lucas said as he and Jack sat at the table, ready to have lunch.

"Sure, what is it you want to ask me?", Oscar offered as he served up their plates with some broccoli, pasta and salmon.

"Mummy is the one that had us, right? We were both on her tummy - not at the same time though - and then she had us", Lucas wondered.

"Yes, mummy was the one that grew you in her tummy", Oscar smiled as he remembered both of your pregnancies. He knew it wasn't comfortable all the time, and there were many instances where you didn't feel so good, but he would spend the whole time in awe at you and what your body was doing for your family.

"Okay, so we have to talk to mummy", Jack reasoned with Lucas, who nodded back at him.

"Why do you need mummy, was my answer not enough?", Oscar wondered.

"It was enough, daddy, don't worry! But if we want a baby brother or sister, we have to talk to mummy first", Lucas stated as if he was saying they were going to ask you to change their bedroom curtains.

"You want a sibling?", Oscar questioned them both, wondering if they had been eavesdropping on you and him.

When one of Oscar's sisters had her baby a couple of months ago, you and Oscar both felt like adding another one to your flock, discussing it in bed that night. It wouldn't be so bad, especially now that both your and Oscar's careers were settled and your schedules were far more predictable. The boys seemed to think the same.

"Yes, do you think mummy will like the idea? She always said her feet hurt a little when it was towards the end", Lucas tsked, "and you, daddy? Would you like to have a another baby?", he wondered.

"Yes, I would - I'll tell you what, when mummy gets home from work, we can ask her about it, okay?", Oscar suggested, seeing the boys agree before eating the food in their plates, smiling to himself at the possibility of your growing family.

By the time you got home, you were just about to catch Oscar putting the boys down for the night, "night night, boys, I hope you have sweet dreams", you kissed both of their foreheads.

"We need to talk to you tomorrow, mummy, we have something to ask you", Lucas offered.

"Okay, it can wait until tomorrow, buddy - sleep tight!", you combed his hair with your fingers.

Closing the door behind you, you walked up to your bedroom, starting to get rid of your work clothes, "Osc? Can you help me with these buttons, please? I can't even lift my arms", you groaned, "I'm so tired".

Your heard your husband's feet pad out of the ensuite bathroom and approach you, his fingers undoing the buttons at the nape of your neck so you could take the shirt off.

"There you go, love", he offered, leaving a kiss in there.

"Thank you - both for this and for doing the nightime routine with the boys, I'm sorry I couldn't be home earlier, but the last lady had this nasty contracture that wouldn't go anywhere no matter how much I pulled and worked every trick of the book", you sighed as you grabbed your pyjamas from under your pillow so you could put them on.

"Don't worry - it was all fine", Oscar assured, "you did miss the quesion they wany to ask you tomorrow though".

"Is it something for school?", you wondered, getting up from the bed with only one leg of your pyjama pants on.

"No, it's not - you can't do anything about it, not now anyway", your husband chuckled as he watched you quirk your eyebrow.

"Do I want to know what it is about? You're scaring me a little", you mused.

"The boys want to ask you for a little brother or sister", Oscar stated, "they checked with me to know if you were the point person they should go to".

"Because I'm the only one?", you giggled, adjusting the sleeves on your shirt so you could wash your face and brush your teeth.

"You grew them in your tummy, and Lucas remembered how much your feet hurt so they want to know if you would be comfortable with having another one", Oscar offered, getting in the bed and pulling the comforter up to his waist.

"You're saying that as if it only takes me to make a baby", you spoke after spitting the toothpaste on the sink, wiping your mouth on the towell to get rid of the remnants.

"They said it like that, not me - but to be fair, they did ask if I would like to have another baby", he added.

Rubbing the cream on your cheeks, you walked back to the bedroom area, turning the light off with your elbow before you sat down next to Oscar, "it's cute, though, that they don't want to just go and ask for a sibling because they understand it's not like that", you said as you snapped your fingers.

"Would you? We talked about it a while ago, but then you had the check-ups and the doctor advised us to not go for it yet until we knew for sure you were all good", Oscar mused, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers on his lap.

"Yes, I think I would. We know I'm all good and all my parts are working just fine, so I'm in if you are", you replied back.

"I'm in too, I miss having a little baby and the sight of you carrying our baby", he smirked, "and the process of making a baby is very fun".

"Oscar!", you swatted his chest.

"We're always telling the boys they should always tell the truth - was I supposed to lie?", he defended himself.

"Don't fall asleep, Jack, okay?", you said as you noticed your son nearly falling asleep on his car seat, "we're almost home, love!".

"I wasn't falling asleep", he admitted, blushing at having been caught with his eyes closed and his cheek on his shoulder.

"I know you weren't, but I just wanted to check anyway", you winked through the rearview mirror, playing along with him.

On the days Lucas had violin practice, Oscar was the one to take him there from school and then back home, which meant you only had to pick Jack up from pre-school before going home, which also allowed each of the boys to have one on one time with you.

Encouraging Jack to stick to his routine, you watched him hang his jacket and leave his shoes on the wardrobe by the door before he took hi backpack to the kitchen so he could empty the snack box.

"Are you not feeling better, mummy?", Jack asked you as he walked inside the kitchen, noticing the bag from the pharmacy on the counter, "did the doctor give you medicine to take?".

"I'm feeling so and so, but the doctor at the pharmacy told me something else", you crouched down so you could be at the same level as your son, "can you keep a secret?".

Jack nodded eagerly, showing you his ear so you could only tell him the secret before he realise you two were alone, "Oh, we don't need to whisper, and this way you won't tickle my ear", he admitted with a blush, "tell me, mummy!".

"Mummy hasn't been feeling well, and when I spoke to the doctor at the pharmacy, she seemed to think that maybe I have a baby in my tummy", you smiled, "I need to take a test to know for sure".

"A baby? The one me and Lucas asked you and daddy for?", he beamed.

"Yes, that one - should I take the tests now?", you grabbed the boxes from the bag.

"Yes, mummy, yes! How do you do it?", he wondered.

"Mummy needs to go to the bathroom", you tapped his nose, "I'll open the door as soon as I'm done, okay?", you offered before stepping inside the service bathroom by the stairs.

"Are you okay, mummy? Do you want help?", Jack asked as you could hear him walk along the corridor.

"I'm nearly done, Jack, just need to clean a little mess up I did here", you offered, doing what you needed to do and complying with all the instructions.

"It's okay, mummy, I also make a mess sometimes and you always tell me that as long as I clean up after myself, it's okay", he comforted you.

Giggling to yourself at his words, you washed your hands again before opening the door, revealing Jack waiting for you.

"When do we know?", your son asked as he looked at the plastic tests by the sink.

"In a few minutes", you answered.

"Will you be sad if it says you're just sick?", Jack muttered.

"Well, you and Lucas asked for a sibling some time ago and it would be nice if it was actually the case, right?", you tested the waters, now wondering if it was the right move to tell Jack what you were doing. You felt like you could deal with the negative result should it be the one to come up, but maybe your little boy wouldn't.

"I really want a baby brother or sister, and I know Lucas also wants one a lot, but we can wait", he offered, almost sounding like a grown up while he grabbed your hand.

Once the timer on your watch beeped, you turned the tests around checking for their validity before looking at the result.

"Are you pregnant or are you sick, mummy?", Jack questioned, looking at the tests on your hands, "what does it mean?".

"This means I'm pregnant, Jack", you smiled before setting the tests down once he jumped on your arms.

"I'm going to be a big brother!", he squealed, hugging you tightly.

"You are, buddy - are you excited?", you mused.

"I am! I can't wait to tell daddy and Lucas!", Jack smiled back at you.

Setting him back down on the floor, you grabbed the tests, "we could surprise them with something funny - what do you think?", you suggested, heading with him to the playroom so you could get started on it.

Oscar and Lucas arrived just as you were finishing the last touches of the surprise, calling your names.

"We're upstairs in the playroom!", you called back before turning to Jack, "you have to wait for Lucas or daddy to read your t-shirt, okay?".

Lucas was the first to get to the room, coming up to you to hug you and kiss your cheek, "and the teacher said I did really well!".

"That's amazing, buddy!", you congratulated after he told you all about his day.

"Hello, guys!", Oscar greeted, and judging by the bottle of water on his hands, he has stopped by the kitchen before he joined you, "how was your day?", kissing Jack's cheek.

"We didn't do anything special - it was like every day that mummy picked me up while Lucas was at his lessons", Jack told in a nonchalant way, earning a wondering expression on your husband's face as he looked you.

You shrugged your shoulders and kissed Oscar's lips, letting him press his lips on your forehead right after.

"Do you feel better? You don't look so bad anymore", he reasoned as he rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Geez, thank you, Oscar", you chuckled, "but I feel good now", you smiled.

Lucas looked intrigued as he looked at Jack, "why does his t-shirt say he has an expiring date? What's an expiring date, daddy?", he asked as he pointed.

"I'm no longer the little one!", Jack yelled excitedly, leaving Oscar and Lucas a little lost.

"We know you're grown up, buddy - It's when something is not good anymore or when it has an end date...", Oscar offered.

"No, daddy, you're not getting it! I'm no longer the little brother of the family because mummy has one inside her tummy!", he clarified.

Lucas gasped before he ran to you, hugging your legs and resting his cheek on your tummy, "is it true?".

"Yes, love - we're going to have another baby in the family!", you smiled, brushing his hair with your fingers before you felt Jack hug your side.

"I guess there's only me left then", Oscar gestured, hugging you from your back and resting his hands on your tummy, "we're having another baby, Y/N, I love you", he kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly.

Once Jack pulled away, Oscar finally got a proper glimpse of the t-shirt that stated the announcement, reading at the "Little brother: expiring date in some months!" t-shirt the little boy wore.

"Did you do this just now? Since when do you know?", Oscar mused, now finally getting ti hug you properly since the boys had let you go.

"Mummy took the tests when he got home, and then we came here to cut the print and iron letters", Jack offered.

"Yes, not long, I'm not sure it has settled in yet", you mumbled, "another little one, Osc, I love you", you kissed his lips.

"Boys, remember what we told you, okay? People are healing and resting, so we have to be quiet and be on our best behaviour, okay?", you checked with them as they got out of the car.

"We will, mummy", Lucas assured you while he held his hand with Jack's, keeping him close as he held Oscar's hand with the other one.

You registered yourself in and then were led to the right exam room, following the orders to lay on the bed and lift your top.

"The bump is bigger, isn't it?", Jack asked as his curious hands touched your skin, stroking it and taking the opportunity to leave a few kisses there.

"It is, little one is growing very well!", Oscar offered.

A knock on the door alerted you to it, seeing the technician step inside the room, "Good morning! How is everyone feeling today?", she asked.

"Hello! We're here to see if we're getting a baby sister or a baby brother!", Lucas offered as he swung his legs on the chair.

"That's right! Are you ready, Y/N?", she asked you with a rub on your shoulder before pulling the kart with the ultrasound machine and laptop with her and sitting on the stool next to your bed.

"Yes, very ready and very excited", you smiled.

"Which one do you think they are, baby brother or baby sister?", the technician asked your boys while squeezing the gel on your tummy.

"Come here, sit on daddy's leg instead of mummy's lap so we can see the baby on the screen there", Oscar explained to Jack.

"I don't know, we're both boys, what is that thing that nana always says? It's like there's always a third", Lucas tapped Oscar's arm as he sat next to them.

"Nana always says that there isn't a second without a third", Oscar clarified, "usually means that when there is a second one, there's always a third one".

"So you think it's a boy?", the technician hummed, moving the wand around, "well, your mummy will still be outnumbered by you guys, but she'll have a little friend to help her! You're having a babygirl!", she smiled, showing you the screen.

"A baby sister?", Jack looked at the screen, "wow, she's so tiny - is that her nose?", he pointed.

"Yes, that's her nose, then these are her legs - they look really strong!", she showed him while Oscar winked at you with a big smile on his face.

"Woah", Lucas mused as he looked at the screen, "how long until she comes out of mummy's belly?".

"That is still many weeks away, Lucas - she needs to stay inside to grow healthy and happy!", the technician explained as she wiped the gel from your belly, "I just sent the scans to the printer down the hall - if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to get them".

After she closed the door behind her, the boys jumped on the bed, hugging your sat up body.

"Can you believe we're having a little girl? A mini you?", Oscar stated as he followed your kids, standing up in front of you so he could kiss your lips.

"These two look like you - I deserve a mini me", you giggled, "Oh My Goodness, a little Piastri girl".

"Uh oh", Lucas said, making you look for any issue or trouble.

"What is it, Lucas?", you wondered.

"We don't know anything about girls!!", he said in a concerned tone.

"We're both boys!", Jack followed in agreement.

"You know Tilly and Lottie pretty well, it's not like you haven't been around girls", Oscar reasoned, not wanting them to feel dismissed as you tried your best to contain your laughter.

"We have to ask Fraser the next time we are all at a race - he definitely knows what to do!", Lucas pointed out.

"At least she's comfy - one of us is, anyway", you sighed as Oscar's hands helped you settle in a better position on the examination bed.

"I know we've discussed this with you before, so you probably know that this is the time we talked about. Little one is fully developed now, and she seems like a big girl from our calculations and scans, so I think that now, more than ever you should really think about inducing", your doctor stated.

With Lucas and Jack, the birth was pretty straight forward. The waters broke at home, you went to the hospital when the contractions were closer together and after some pushes, you were happily holding your baby boys.

Your baby girl seemed to have other ideas.

"We wanted to wait for her in her timing, but we understand that that option is no longer viable", Oscar nodded. The team had gone over your exams and they all agreed that induction was looking like the best option so both you and baby Piastri could be happy, safe and healthy.

Squeezing your hand in his, Oscar gave you a reassuring look before you spoke, "we've talked about it, but at the end of the day what matters is that we are both okay, so we'll do the induction. When can we do it?", you asked.

"Well, since it's early and you've only had breakfast, if you go up now, we can settle you in and start the process while your husband gets your things from home if you'd like - your baby is in a good position and we don't foresee any issues to a vaginal delivery", she smiled soflty as she signed a few papers, before handing them to you to sign too.

"Might as well get this show on the road, hm?", you looked at Oscar, "I'll call my parents to let them know".

"Okay, sweetheart", Oscar said before he kissed your forehead, "I'll meet you upstairs, okay? And you, little miss, don't show up before I'm back, okay?", he left a kiss on your baby bump.

"I think it's established that she isn't in any sort of rush", you chuckled, kissing his lips one last time before you parted ways.

While Oscar went home to grab the hospital bags you had prepared, you went up to the labour ward with your midwife Lisa, who happened to be on shift that day.

Checking you in your room, she helped you get comfortable before starting the induction process, "like we talked about, for some women this is a quick process and for some it is a long one. Any way this goes, though, we are all here to help you", she smiled soflty.

Someone knocked on the door, making Lisa look at all the supplies she had and checking if anything was missing until she noticed it was Oscar.

"Hi Lisa, how are you?", he greeted her with a hug before he came to check on you, leaving the bags in their designated area.

"Hello! I'm good, excited to help your little girl come into the world", Lisa smiled.

"And you, my love, are you doing okay?", he asked, looking at the monitor on your bump.

"I'm good, so far so good, and better now that you're here", you pointed a finger on his chest as he approached you.

Chuckling, Oscar kissed your forehead before sitting in the room you made for him, mindful of all the wires connected to you, "did everything get sorted out with your parents?".

"Yes, they'll pick the boys up and look after them - dad told me not to worry about anyone else but me and little princess", you smiled. In the last two births, the first person your father looked for when he stepped into the room was you, claiming that he looked for the person that was already there from before and that he needed to know his daughter was okay.

"I can't believe that this is happening soon, that we're going to have our baby girl in our arms", he said as he did his best to rub your bump despite the wires and monitors that were ensuring you were both doing well.

"Seems like it was yesterday that I was taking a test with Jack on the other side of the door asking me if I needed help", you giggled, "but I'm very excited to have our baby and see who she takes after - I may be too hopeful, but I have a feeling that she might look a little bit more like me", you snickered, "I did all the hard work for nine months and a bit - three times now! I think it's about time this baby comes out looking a little more Y/L/N-y and a little less Piastri-y".

"My genetics have proved to be quite strong, if we are being honest, but I'm also hoping for a little you", Oscar offered as he felt your tightening taut skin under his hand, "was that a contraction?", he said looking at you.

"I think this is the water breaking, do you remember that prickle feeling I told you about in Lucas'? It's like that - oh!", you gasped, "there it goes".

Oscar helped you get up from the bed so you could dry yourself before removing the disposable liner Lisa had laid down for that purpose.

Helping you change into the hospital gown, your husband called the midwife like she had asked you to do, "the waters have broken already? This is good news, means everything is going like it's supposed to, especially ", she said when she looked at the graphs for the CTG machine, checking your vitals too before she left the room again once everything was fine.

When contractions started picking up, Oscar was quick to tend to your every need, walking with you when you felt like movement would do you good before you settled in swaying your hips, your back against his chest while you almost danced around the room, "this is like that time Lando made us dance at the McLaren party", you muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"We're much better now, I think - and you look even more beautiful", he mused, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh, there's another one", you said as you felt the tension on your bump, making you stop and somehow turn around before it got too bad, the new position allowing you to face Oscar as your arm stretched around his neck, your hands lacing at the nape of his neck so you could drop your hips to relieve the pressure from the intense feeling on your torso as you waited for it to pass, your husband's kisses and words of encouragement doing a good job at distracting you from it.

"Do you feel comfortable here or do you want to move to the bed, love? I don't want you to tire yourself more than you are", he expressed his concern as he held you.

"Can I stay here? I like being on your hold and standing up helps, I think", you looked for his approval as you felt his arms ease some of your weight on his neck.

Oscar nodded his head as he kept swaying you around, "Of course, I'm here for you, whatever you need I'll help", he prompted as your neck stretched slightly so you could kiss his jaw, mumbling an I love you to him before concentrating on your breathing again.

Knocking on the door, Lisa excused herself inside and asked how you were doing before checking your dilation, "You're doing really well, Y/N, you're 6 centimetres dilated already! This is going quite quickly I must say", she said and you smiled.

Oscar placed a proud kiss on your forehead while you heard Lisa tell you what to expect in the next few hours, "Do you want an epidural?", she asked.

"I think I'm doing fine without it, but I'll call if it gets too bad", you replied before she nodded and left to tend to the other birthing patients.

Hours later, Oscar had now turned to apply pressure on your lower back with his hands when it started getting a bit harder for you, your elbows on the mattress as you rocked your hips side to side, the interval between contractions now so short you barely had time to rest between them, "I feel like I need to push, my body is telling me to push", you said to Lisa and the nurse that were checking you.

"Why don't you sit on the bed so we can see how things are progressing?", one of them offered as your husband helped you lay down, his hand never leaving yours, "You're crowing, Y/N! It's time to meet your baby!", Lisa announced as she got in position.

"All good, Y/N? I know it hurts, but I also know you have got this", your husband whispered as he positioned himself so he could be right by your side.

"Y/N, when you feel the urge to push, do it okay?", the health professional urged you as you nodded, "your babygirl is ready to come out and everything looks good for her!".

Holding Oscar's hand and squeezing it, you cried and grunted slightly, hearing Lisa announce that the head was out and you needed to do a big push for the shoulders, "this could be a good sign for mini me - my mum always said I had a big head", you groaned.

"C'mon, Y/N, big push", the nurse encouraged as you felt Oscar's lips by your ear, "I know you can do this darling, just two more pushes and our baby girl is here", he said and you did what your body told you, pushing and breathing until your baby was out in the world.

Sitting back against the pillows, the nurses lifted the little girl and after a few taps on her pink cheek, she let out a high pitch scream both you and Oscar were sure to remember for the rest of your lives.

"She's here, Y/N, congratulations mummy and daddy", Lisa said as she placed the baby on your chest.

The baby girl your's and Oscar's love, along with the one from your family, produced was finally here. Pushing your gown to the side, you uncovered your chest as they placed her down, the skin to skin contact soothing her cries immediately, "Hello my love, I'm your mummy", you said as tears gathered in your eyes, your finger coming to stroke her pink chubby cheek as you admired her.

"She looks a lot like you, I think we've nailed the mini you, love", Oscar said between tears.

"That is daddy, I'm sure you recognise his voice too", you cooed, "we've been waiting for you for so long, and you're finally here".

Oscar kissed the top of your head before kissing the top of the little girl's head.

"Hi princess Isabella, we're so happy you're finally here", he said tearfully as he stretched his finger so your daughter could grab it between hee much smaller ones.

"Now we're gonna need to take little Isabella - such a beautiful name - to check everything while you deliver the rest, okay?", one of the nurses said and you extended your arms so she could grab her.

Oscar looked over to the nurses' station as they measured and weighed the baby before he looked down to you on the bed, "Thank you for making me a father again, I love you both so much, my love", he said with loving and still a bit teary eyes, grabbing your hand in his and kissing them before touching your forehead lovingly.

"I love you so much, Oscar", you whispered and you kissed his hand that was caressing your cheek, "there's no one else I'd be a parent with".

After delivering the placenta and having your baby girl back in your chest, Oscar couldn't stop the overwhelming surge of feelings in his chest. He was so happy and grateful for you and at the prospect of the life he had yet to fill with memories with your family.

When you were finally able to bring Isabella home, the boys were the best behaved you had ever seen them. They weren't troublemakers, and from what you heard the other parents share whenever you waited for the kids outside the school gate, they definitely were a breeze compared to the stories you heard, but this was new.

"I'll fill this up for you, mummy", Lucas stated, grabbing the water bottle you kept near you ti make sure you were drinking enough and helping your milk supply.

"Thank you, buddy", you smiled, adjusting Isabella's head so she could have a better latch.

"Here are the nappies for Isa", Jack offered as he carried the unopened packet he offered to get from the nursery so you could refill the caddy you kept in the living room.

"Thank you, Jack, that's very helpful", you smiled as Oscar sat next to you, "they're being so helpful, it's so cute", you mused.

"Before you came home, they helped me and your parents tidy up and they promise your dad they would be on their best behaviour", your husband mused, kissing your shoulder and looking at your daughter as she suckled on your nipple, never getting tired of watching her beautiful face.

"At what time did Lando say he was coming to visit?", you asked, squinting to look at the time on the TV.

"He said he'd be here in an hour or so, and then his wife and the kids would come later after she got them from school", Oscar mused, "here, let me burp her", he said.

Wiping the corners of Isabella's lips, you kissed her forehead before letting her go to Oscar's arms, watching his tap her back to get all the wind out before she looked ready to fall asleep.

"Mummy is going to have a shower, so you two be good, okay?", you told the boys before you headed up.

Oscar was resting his eyes when his phone alerted to who the car he heard outside belonged to, making him get up and open the door to find Lando.

"Well, hello there, Oscar, and little Isabella, hello darling", he cooed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Uncle Lando!", the boys cheered quietly, hugging his legs and letting him ruffle their hair.

"Where's your mummy?", Lando asked, "I brought this goodie bag with all things for postpartum fun! We got one of these from my sisters when we had Lottie and it helped a lot".

"She's upstairs, she said she was going to have a shower and my bet is that she's taking a nap", Oscar added, letting Lando sit before he could pass the little bundle of joy to his arms.

"Hello, little princess, aren't you a cutie", Lando said as he looked at the youngest Piastri.

"You have to support her head, like this", Lucas advised the father of three - soon to be four.

"I know, buddy, thank you for your help", Lando smiled at his protectiveness, letting the boys sit on either side of him.

"She doesn't like when her hands aren't covered - let me fix it", Jack offered before he pulled on the blanket around his sister's hands.

"They're both like this all the time?", Lando wondered as Oscar nodded.

"They don't let anyone else touch her without them being near - only me and Y/N get to keep her to ourselves", Oscar chuckled.

"Oh, she's fussing, daddy!", Jack alerted him.

As if on cue, you walked downstairs and into the living room as Lando was up, trying to soothe the little girl, "it's alright, uncle Lando is here, Isabella", you heard him tell her gently.

"Hello", you greeted as all eyes landed on you.

"Yeah, that's your mummy, babygirl", Lando assured, "and you want her, don't you? I can't compete with your mummy, can I?", he said as he walked closer to you, giving your daughter back so she could cuddle into your chest before he squeezed your arm.

"Thank you", you smiled, "you met uncle Lala, babygirl?", you mused, stroking her cheek and feeling her cries soothe down.

"Just about, yes - your boys surely have the protective older brother thing down", the british driver giggled.

"They're already the best big brothers and she has only been with us for a couple of days", you smiled.

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bueckers · 2 days

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁 ( 𝟐 )

part one. a/n | here’s part 2 ! thank you for the love on the first one & please feel free to send requests to my inbox.

summary | in which the pleasure elicits a confession.

warning(s) | car sex, jealousy, p eating, heated make-out, face riding, arguing, & love confessions.

pairing | paige bueckers x fem reader

It had been about two weeks since Paige’s confession, leaving you puzzled. Since then, there had been no texts, no calls, not even a knock at your door with an explanation. Paige had left you high and dry, her silence taking over the spaces she used to fill with her presence.

Today was Azzi’s birthday, a celebration you couldn’t miss despite the predicament you were in with her best friend. The girls hadn’t asked you about the night you stormed out of Paige’s room half naked, but you knew that they all knew now and there was no covering it up. Paige must’ve gave them intel— but it made you wonder what exactly she told them.

Despite this, you and Azzi had always shared a close bond, and you wouldn’t let Paige ruin that. The plan for the evening was straightforward: a night out at the club, drinks with the team, and a few of Azzi’s other friends. It promised to be a casual gathering, one where you could avoid an uncomfortable confrontation with Paige if you played your cards right.

You’d already been at Azzi’s dorm with Caroline, Aubrey, and Paige who had been keeping her distance from you since you arrived. After helping her pick out an outfit and adjusting her hair just the way she wanted it to be, the five of you all headed out and piled into Paige’s car, Azzi in the front and you having to take the middle of the backseat because of your shorter figure.

Everyone stayed engrossed in conversation, yourself only throwing out small comments when it was needed. As the song changed, you immediately became familiar with the playlist Paige was playing— the one you both shared for both intimate moments and late night drives. The voice of Drake’s Heat of the Moment echoed through the car, causing you to dart your eyes up to the rear view mirror to get a good look at Paige, squinting your eyes a bit. You knew the game she was playing.

She must have felt your gaze because, right then and there, she looked up too. You could only see her eyes, but it was enough to read her expression. It wasn’t cocky or teasing; it was filled with longing. There was meaning. Tearing your eyes away, you found yourself staring past Aubrey and out the dark window, as if you could really see anything. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you waited impatiently to dart out of the car.

After a few moments, you seemed to have arrived at the club. Aubrey snapped her fingers twice, breaking you out of your daze and chuckling a little. “You good?” she asked as everyone began unbuckling their seatbelts. You grinned at her, quickly glancing at the mirror where Paige was already looking at you. That brief eye contact made you revert your gaze back to the girl next to you.

“Yeah, fine,” you assured her, though your mind was anything but settled.

It had been a long night. You weren’t even sure of the time but you’d been about four drinks in alongside Azzi who had definitely had more than you, dancing sloppily with her teammates. It didn’t matter to anyone though as long as the birthday girl was having the time of her life.

You hadn’t seen Paige since you parted ways from the car, and you were prepared to keep it that way. You’d previously been sitting with Jana and Ayanna at the bar before Jana announced she had to use the restroom. With your drunken state, you assured them that you’d be okay by yourself for a few minutes instead of walking through mounds of people while Ayanna accompanied her.

Twirling the straw around in the empty glass that had previously held your vodka soda, you looked around your surroundings innocently, trying to not make it seem like you were looking for anyone in particular. But you were. You were scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Paige, yet she remained elusive. The dim, pulsating lights of the club only added to your growing sense of frustration and confusion. Had she intentionally been avoiding you all night, or was it just a coincidence?

“Looking for someone?” an unfamiliar voice called from next to you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly turned toward the stool beside you, raking your eyes up the body of a female— a very attractive one at that. She chuckled, her curls bouncing with the motion. She bore a slight resemblance to Aubrey, or maybe it was just the alcohol making your perception a little off. Her presence was a welcome distraction, so you didn’t mind it.

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers moving mindlessly around the straw. “Why, you wanna buy me a drink?” you flirted. Maybe Paige was the best at flirting, but you dabbled in it.

“I’m not opposed to that,” she smirked at you before calling the bartender over and paying for your next drink. Her confidence was disarming, and you couldn’t help but feed into it. It was certainly a way to win over a drunk girl. Here was someone who was clearly interested in you, a stark contrast to the ambiguity and distance Paige had left you with. You decided to lean into the moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the flirtation, at least for now.

Eventually, the girl, Lena had pulled you onto the dance floor, her hand grasping yours warmly. The alcohol definitely loosened your limbs and blurred the edges of your thoughts as Lena stayed close, her own moves fluid, drawing you further into her orbit. You were living in the moment and all things Paige had seemed to be forgotten about.

You weren’t sure how much time had slipped by. You lost count of the songs, your only focus being her presence. You weren’t normally one to get so comfortable with someone so quickly, but Lena made it easy. The crowded dance floor felt like a cocoon, insulating you from any lingering thoughts.

But the spell was broken when you caught sight of a familiar face approaching through the throng of dancers. Paige was weaving her way toward you, her expression a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

As she swooped in next to you, you were too shocked to move as she spoke, her hand wrapping possessively around your waist. “There you are, baby,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the music, her voice edged with a sharpness that made Lena’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Lena’s eyes flicked between you and Paige, confusion mingling. God, you felt bad, but you truly couldn’t bring yourself to say anything despite Paige not being your girlfriend or this being her place. Only Paige could make you at loss for words in a situation like this. Only Paige would put you in a situation like this.

Paige didn’t miss a beat. “I been looking for her all night.” she smiled cockily at Lena, who seemed to be just as perplexed as you were. “Come on, let’s get some air,” she urged, glancing down at you as you licked your lips in frustration. You could hear the fake joy in her voice. You barely had time to shoot an apologetic look at Lena before Paige was leading you through the crowd, yourself stumbling a bit as you barely made it.

Outside, the cool night air hit you like a splash of cold water, clearing some of the fog from your mind. You managed to wiggle out of Paige’s grasp, shooting her a look that she found amusing as you both arrived in front of the car. Your figure trailing a little behind her. She turned around, crossing her arms and looking at you with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite place. Why was she upset?

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your own temper flaring now that you were away from the noise and the crowd. “You always do this shit and I’m so fucking sick of it. You stopped caring about me a long time ago, Paige. Stop trying to remind me that you exist after every fuck up because you know I’ll fall into you every time.” You weren’t thinking about what you said before you said it— you didn’t even let Paige get a word out as you watched her facial expression soften in front of you. The entire situation had sobered you up and you could feel a headache coming in.

Paige took a deep breath, her eyes still burning with jealousy. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you with her,” she admitted, her voice softer but no less intense. “It drove me crazy.”

“You avoided me the whole night— fuck, a whole two weeks! I think you can handle me trying to get in bed with a different girl.” You couldn’t fathom why she could treat you so poorly but not want to see you with anyone else. It irked you knowing she just wanted to hang onto the piece of you that still cared for her on a deeper level than sex and use it to her advantage. It hurt you.

Paige scoffed, her eyes widening before her tongue began to swarm her mouth in amusement. “Oh, that’s what this is about? The sex?”

You shook your head, becoming annoyed with the conversation and ready to storm off. “You don’t get it. You’re never gonna fucking get it.”

Paige’s eyes darted from yours to behind you for a brief moment, making you whip your head around to see a group of people looking your way, concerned looks on their faces. You both recognized the loudness of the conversation, and Paige was quick to move it. She opened the passenger door from behind her, motioning for you to get in with her hands and eyes.

You stood there, unamused. “I’m not getting in the car with you, Paige,” you said simply, a chuckle following your words. You didn’t want to because you knew being in such close proximity with her while trying to stand your ground and stay angry would not go well for you, especially with how good she looked tonight. But she always looked good— this was nothing new.

However, as you slowly met her eyes from just a few feet away, you ultimately knew just how over it was for you. “Get in the car, (y/n).” Her words were slow yet firm. You only stared at her with an unreadable expression for a few moments before you gave in with a roll of your eyes.

Paige walked around the car to the driver’s seat, twisting her keys around her fingers before opening the door and taking a seat. A silence fell between the two of you before you settled on breaking it, knowing too much of it would result in a certain type of tension. You stared at her, the night’s confusion swirling inside you. “You can’t just pretend to be my girlfriend and drag me away like that, Paige. It’s not fair.”

She looked down, her tough exterior cracking. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… I needed to talk to you.” Her voice was softer now, making your anger waver. God, she made it so hard to stay mad.

The sincerity in her tone was enough to make you gold. “You’ve had two weeks to talk to me. Why now?” you asked, trying to keep your frustration in check.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was scared. After what I said, I didn’t know how you’d react, and then I saw you with someone else tonight and… I realized I couldn’t keep avoiding this. Avoiding you,” she explained.

What did that even mean? Paige hadn’t gotten this open or raw with you since you stopped connecting on a friend level and you wondered where this conversation was leading. “So what now?” you asked, your voice losing some of its edge.

She looked up, meeting your gaze with earnest eyes. “I miss you,” she said quietly. You’d never seen her this vulnerable. She was always so composed, so sure of herself. The admission hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Your heart ached at her words, a mix of longing and frustration battling within you. What did she miss, the sex or you? “I don’t know what you want from me,” you shrugged. Don’t give in.

“Jus’ want you,” she said simply, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve missed you so much. These past two weeks have been hell. Fuck— the past six months.” She was referring to the amount of time she’d shut you out for, and you were baffled that she had noticed. It wasn’t just some dick move of hers done unpurposely because it’s just instinct for her, there was a reason. Don’t give in.

The lick of her lips and the doe of her hooded eyes was enough to break down the last of your defenses. She studied the contemplation within you, glancing down at your bare leg before she slowly moved her hand to it. It’s like you couldn’t control the lean of your body. Paige hesitated for a moment, then closed the distance, her lips meeting yours in a desperate, needy kiss. It was like a dam breaking, all your pent up emotions pouring out in one moment.

You kissed her back, your hands finding their way to her hair, pulling her closer. Paige responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming your back and pulling on your clothes, holding you as if afraid you might disappear. The world outside the car faded away as if one nosey person couldn’t just peek their head in and see two girls making out, but it was the least of your concerns.

The small space of the car seemed to shrink even more as the intensity of your kiss deepened. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, moving over the center console to straddle Paige’s lap in the driver’s seat. Her hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them tightly as if anchoring herself to you.

Your fingers threaded through her hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a soft moan from her that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation of being so close, feeling her heartbeat against yours, was overwhelming in the best possible way. Paige’s hands roamed up your back and down to your thighs, squeezing them. If there was one thing this girl loved, it was your ass and thighs. She could never get enough of them.

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, both of you breathing heavily. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes barely open as she looked up at you, her chest heaving with the same desire you felt. But there was also a hint of confusion as to why you pulled away. “Paige,” you whispered, your voice full of uncertainty and hunger. “I can’t do this.” You were only breaking your own morals, and as much as you were feening for her right now, you knew you couldn’t keep running laps with her around a never-ending track.

Paige shook her head, licking her lips. Her expression shifted from confusion to concern. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice was desperate. “Please don’t say that,” her voice was low as she brought one hand up to cradle your face, you immediately leaning into her touch by instinct.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I can’t keep going through this with you. I can’t if it’s just going to end the same way every time.”

Her grip on your hips tightened, her eyes pleading. “It won’t. I swear it won’t.” She paused, taking a deep breath as she searched for the right words. You only looked at her as you waited for what she was going to say, biting down on your bottom lip. “I meant it when I said I loved you.” The confession hung heavy in the air, the honesty causing goosebumps to raise to your arms.

You searched her eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or insincerity, but she was serious. “You really mean it?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. It sounded pathetic to ask, but you didn’t care.

Paige nodded, her blue eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than right now.”

Without another word, you leaned in once more, your lips carefully moving in sync as it quickly went from tender to passionate. Her fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin as if committing every contour to memory as you pressed closer, Paige pulling you in more if that were even possible. Your hands moved down her chest underneath her shirt painfully slow, your fingers dwindling over her abs. You wanted this stupid shirt off.

You shifted slightly, straddling her lap more securely, your legs on either side of her as you deepened the kiss. The feeling of her touch, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, and just knowing how she felt all made you feel more alive than you had in weeks. Her lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, making you gasp softly.

“Wanna make you feel good. Okay, baby?” Paige mumbled. You only nodded in response, eager for any type of friction as you moved against her. The only thing standing between more of it was the thin piece of fabric underneath your hoisted up red dress. You were sure you left a mark of your slick on Paige’s cargos.

Pulling away, both of your breathing far from steady, Paige shifted her gaze to the side of her driver chair, reclining it back. Your mouth fell agape slightly as you realized what she wanted to do, and she only chuckled at you— a smirk not leaving her face. She still sat up as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the backseat with ease. Your eyes raked down her body. She then moved to lay back, yourself still in full view as you stayed sat against her in pure shock. Paige Bueckers wanted you to sit on her face in a club parking lot after confessing her love for you.

“Take those off and come up here, ma,” she urged you lowly, her eyes flickering to the bottom half of your body. One of her hands were behind her head and the other placed warmly on your upper thigh, her thumb stroking your skin way too slow as you became warmer by the second. Your breath hitched as you complied, obviously, moving your legs to one side so you could slip the fabric from under you and toss them to the passenger seat.

Paige’s eyes darkened with desire as she watched you. She’d been wanting to do this all night. The moment your underwear left your body, she guided you to straddle her face, her hands gripping your thighs firmly as she pulled you closer. You hesitated for a brief moment, the vulnerability of the position causing a flutter of nerves. You’d done this before— I mean, the first few months were just full of figuring out each other and what you liked and disliked… but in this moment, it felt different. Like a new chapter.

Paige tapped your leg softly in reassurance as she looked up at you, realizing the way you were surveying the situation. “Come here,” she murmured. Everything that came out of her mouth was dripping with craving. She needed to taste you.

You settled over her, your thighs trembling slightly as you positioned yourself. The moment her mouth made contact with you, a gasp escaped your lips, your hands instinctively gripping the back of the seat for support. Paige’s tongue moved with skill like always, her hands guiding your movements as she devoured you.

“Paige,” you moaned out, your voice breathy. “Shit, that feels so good.”

Her grip on your thighs tightened, her fingers practically digging into your skin as she increased the intensity of the way her mouth moved. She mumbled something incoherent as you bucked against her slightly, lost in the feeling as you threw your head back.

The sensations were formidable, a mix of pleasure and intimacy that made your head spin. You could feel every flick and swirl of her tongue, every gentle bite and suck that sent waves of ecstasy through your body. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your moans filling the car.

Paige pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured, “I wanna hear you say it.”

You shivered at the command, your mind clouded with pleasure and need. “Say what?” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as you looked down at her, your legs on either side of her face. What a sight.

“I wanna hear you say you love me,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race even faster than it had been.

You said it without having to think about it. “I love you, Paige, shit.” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as she unexpectedly plunged into you. “So much.” A satisfied smile played on her lips against your throbbing cunt as she resumed her actions. The pleasure intensified as if your words had given her a new determination, each maneuver driving you closer to the edge.

Your body responded to her words and actions, the heat building between you both becoming almost unbearable. You rocked your hips in sync with her movements, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, your moans growing louder. “Paige, I’m so close,” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut so you could off a little longer.

“Look at me,” she demanded. Your eyes shot open, mouth falling open wider. “Let go for me, baby,” she encouraged, and that was all you needed. “Wanna feel you.”

With a cry, you finally let go, the orgasm washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking. Paige didn’t stop, her tongue continuing to tease and caress you through the aftershocks until you were too sensitive to take any more. You collapsed forward, your hands braced on the back of the seat as you tried to catch your breath. Paige gently guided you back to straddle her lap, her lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you came down from your high, your head resting perfectly in the crook of her neck.

After pecking every inch of your face, she leaned in for one on your mouth before you mustered the strength to push her lips away, giggling. “Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

Paige laughed along with you. “I’ll take it then,” she shrugged, licking her lips and swarming her mouth with her tongue dramatically. After the banter, you gently rested your hand on Paige’s chest as you both reveled in the moment. The fogged up windows had came in clutch so no one could see the aftermath of it all, but you pondered on the thought of anyone actually seeing the two of you in action.

“I love you too, by the way,” Paige mumbled. You looked up at her, smiling.

“Yeah, you better.”

#paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #lgbtq #lesbian #uconn women’s basketball #bueckers’ works 🍒

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blarshwritezz · 3 days

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I dont know if you write for the Omegaverse..

Because how about a Bully (Alpha) x Nerd Male Reader (Omega) like the two of them dont get the Second Gender until now.. So basically the Bully realise that the Reader is his Fated Mate and dosent want anybody near him, only HIS.. But is really dificult for the Reader to not only Trust him but is also really scared of him..

So Reader first heat is a mess (Like the Bully is constally pound him with meaty d*ck) and the Bully is constally tell him sweet and suductive things to try to calm him down, even tho the Reader is crying because he still scared..

Finally ending with the Reader even more sacred knowing that the Alpha has mated him and posibly '´mark´´ him?

Well, I never have before, but I'll try! Apologies in advance for any mistakes

Yandere Bully Alpha x Nerd Omega Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - Possessiveness, jealousy, implied bullying, NSFW, dubcon

Somehow, since your bully realized you were his fated mate, life only got more difficult. At least you could have friends before! Now he occupied all your attention. If someone made eye contact with you for too long, he considered them a threat.

Honestly, you almost preferred how he acted in the past. Back when he would mock every little thing you did and make your life as hard as he could on purpose. Back when he made you do his homework and beat you up if you refused.

Now, he had you tutor him. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't make you sit on his lap, or if he actually paid attention. He just sat there watching you work and listening to you teach him. He would hurt his face in your neck and breath in your scent, letting his voice fill your ears.

No wonder he always got so jealous when you used to have friends. It was your fault he felt that way, or so he thought. But once he realized you were meant to be his, he realized it was everyone else's fault! They shouldn't be near what's his.

He completely monopolized your time. Whenever you weren't at home, he was making you hang out with him. He'd try to spoil you with things to make up for how he treated you in the past, but that didn't fix it.

He hurt you. He made your life miserable, and he knew he was doing it the whole time. The damage he caused couldn't be fixed by some nice words or gifts.

He just didn't get it. No matter how hard he tried, you always recoiled from his touch. You always got tense when he held you. You never seemed to believe him when he showered you with praises. You didn't like his gifts. What was he doing wrong?

Maybe you liked it better when he was bullying you? So he tried it. He tried being mean to you again. But that only seemed to make it worse! He didn't get it. Why wouldn't you love him?! You were supposed to! He was your fated mate, so you had to love him!

He could only think of one more way to earn your love.

You didn't show up to school one day, which worried him. So of course, like a good mate, he skipped school after the first hour and promptly made his way to your house. He knew where you hid the so are key, so he just let himself in.

And there was a glorious sight awaiting him once he reached your room. There you were, face buried in your pillow, ass up as you stroked your aching cock. Your scent was absolutely overwhelming, and the sight immediately made him hard. You were already in the perfect position for him.

He quietly walked around you, adjusting his pants to let his meaty cock spring free. He'd help you...prove you needed him. Like a good mate.

"You need help there, my mate?" He carefully got behind you, using one hand to spread your ass and the other to line himself up with your needy hole.

You gasped at his raspy voice against your ear. There he was. The last man you wanted to see right now. He'd surely take advantage of your pathetic state.

But at the same time, just one look at his massive cock distracted you, your mind clouded by thought of being fucked.

He didn't let you answer before slowly pushing into you. He had to take it slow, filling you up inch by inch. He didn't want to hurt you. Not yet.

"Shhhh, that's it, you're doing so good." He cooed in your ear as you whined.

Once he thought you were ready, he slowly thrust into you...but it wasn't long before he lost control. How could he not? You felt so good all warm and tight around his thick cock. He was entirely unable to resist the incredible feeling.

He was relentless, stretching you to fit his huge cock without much care for your comfort. Even when tears began to stream down your face, he didn't slow down. He just kissed them away as he continued his harsh thrusts.

You were just crying because you weren't used to feeling this good. Right? That had to be it.

"It'll be okay, you're taking me so well." He hushed you, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses across your jaw.

Your choked moans only enticed him further. He could already feel himself needing to cum. He's never felt such amazing pleasure before. No wonder you were his.

His kisses trailed lower and lower, down your neck, turning harsher. Turning to sucking and gentle nibbling, until he was biting you. He had to mark you of course, and in the most obvious places he could too. You were his. Everyone had to know.

He made sure you were the first to cum, which wasn't hard. Your heat had made you more sensitive. He was enjoying every bit of that. And you deserved to be the one feeling all the pleasure right now.

As you own cum covered your stomach, chest, and the sheets beneath you he couldn't help but praise you more. "What a good boy...I knew you enjoyed this as much as I did. Don't worry, you have your whole heat cycle to get used to me."

He wasn't going to let you feel needy for even a second. He was going to fuck you hard day and night, filling you with his cum, until your heat was over. He was just such a good mate like that.

Again, apologies for any mistakes!

#blarsh writes #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #anon ask #male yandere #yandere x you #male x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #x male reader #male reader #male x male #male yandere x you #male yandere x male reader #male y/n

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extemts · 1 day

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Since you asked, I will be here kindly dropping an ask for a request to write something for Joost.

Do you do sweet jealousy? Where the reader is jealous? Nothig toxic obviously 😂

For example where now that he is gaining more love from people, and thus more attention from girls too, the reader pouts when he talks to this girl who approached him and she is a bit more touchy feely with him? While she is understanding and happy for him, naturally the jealousy can't be hold back.

Or whip something up that just flows from your imagination 😌

Thank you in advance!

Mwah 💋

Well, my boyfriends pretty cool, you will never reach him.

I love this one!! I always think about this ngl. People cross boundaries a lil too much, so this is your reminder to be aware of your surroundings.

requested? yes!

reader? gender neutral!

genre? jealousy, eventual fluff

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Cold post show beers, breezy hangouts behind the venue, thank you's being exchanged, it was all routine at some point. After his shows someone would get some cold beer while the crew enjoyed the nice breeze outside the venue after the show, just for everyone to cool down, especially Joost. You however stayed rather quiet today, your red hands wrapping around the ice cold bottle, the look in your eyes rather empty as you stare at your boyfriend and those girls next to him.

Unfortunately the area behind the venue seemed to be easily accessible to everyone, and while you were always happy for him to have fans that care so much, it would get hard to watch from time to time. He would never decline a photo with a fan, or an autograph, even the countless gifts he regularly got unless he was genuinely unwell, but the dutch singer was still high on adrenaline and already quite drunk, so he basically welcomed the group of girls with open arms, ready to listen to them. Typically this would really never be an issue, most people knew about your relationship and always supported it, even though you never made it public, so sometimes you were even asked to be in the photo along with them, but this particular group of girls seemed to be completely oblivious to the concept of personal space. One of them seemed particularly interested in him- she must have been your age aswell, at least the tattoos you could see on her body told you quite clearly that she was a grown woman. If it would have been a fourteen year old fangirl or something, you might have been able to excuse it.

There she stood, that grin on her face as she runs her fingers over the tattoos on Joost's arm, talking about how he looks oh so good with them. She kept getting more physical in subtle yet somehow obvious ways, to the point where he started looking awfully uncomfortable too, especially by the time he shot a glance at you only to see that pout and the empty look in your eyes as you stare at them. "Any plans after the show? You must be celebrating the end of your tour. I know a really cool club just around the corner, maybe I'll see you there." she eventually let her fingers drift off of his arm as she gives him one last little wave before leaving with her friends, still giggling carelessly like she didn't have a worry in the world. Once he was free of her again, you felt Joost sitting down next to you, your eyes piercing through the ground until he wrapped his arm around you, making you look up at him again. "I'm sorry sweetheart, some people don't know boundaries..." he whispers as not to pull the attention of the rest of the crew on you, somehow making the accent in his voice even more prominent by doing so. He leans in and starts posting soft kisses along your jawline, knowing damn well this is a ticklish spot for you.

It cheered you up, made you chuckle again before pushing his face away with your hand, trying to break free from the tickling feeling. "Now don't just push me away!" he starts acting all offended, gasping at your behavior before he goes right back to attacking your face with a swarm of soft little pecks all over, his arms wrapped around you so you truly have no way of escaping, if you even wanted that.

okaaaay lets go

#joost klein #joost klein fanfiction #joost #joost klein x reader #fanfiction #eurovison song contest #europapa

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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wineauntie · 3 days

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THIS IS NOT A PHASE (or a coming of age!) – hughes brothers x sister!reader

summary: one drive and an ice cream later causes a spiralling conversation.

note: this has been long asked for so, enjoy <33

warnings: reader likes girls, fem!reader, use of y/n + y/n/n, coming out scene!

The breeze of Michigan’s wind blew through the windows in the back of Quinn’s car, as the dulcet sound of country music flowing around you. Quinn was driving with Jack in the passenger, you and Luke banished to the back as the four of you indulged on a late night ice cream trip.

Nights like these weren’t frequent like they once been. You were two years Luke’s junior which meant you were able to watch your brothers move out and grow as hockey players, leaving you behind. With all three of your brothers hundreds of miles away from where you all grown up and you attending high school in Michigan, those nights became a rarity lost to time.

Due to the distance forced upon you and your brothers, hiding things from them became easy. Quinn and Jack had moved out five years ago, whilst Luke had moved out for college before joining Jack in Jersey, and you had come to discover some major changes about yourself.

As a teenager, sexuality was a topic heavily discussed. It all started with a game of spin the bottle between a group of your friends and a group of friends’ friends. When you’d spun the bottle, it had landed on a boy first, and when you kissed him, it felt like you needed to peel your lips off of your face and cleanse them. You’d thought that maybe it was just the fact you had no attraction to that boy in particular but as the bottle spun and you had to kiss two others, the feeling remained.

Then it had landed on a girl whom you rarely knew, but she was breathtaking. She was one of those people that felt like sunshine- warm and pleasant, and a vital being. The two of you had laughed and when you kissed her, you felt your heart flutter and your emotions swirl in a whirlwind of everything right.

Then you’d broken apart and the game continued and you were left drowning in the depths of your very sudden, very real realisation.

You liked girls and you liked them a lot.

In the weeks following that very moment, your world seemed so strange. Everything had remained the exact same as before but the way you experienced it seemed to differ.

Whilst you grappled with the concept of your sexuality, you struggled to maintain your regular day to day life. You pulled away from everyone, spending time on yourself and diving into endless TikToks and websites about it all.

It’s not like you were oblivious to what liking girls entailed, but a part of you dwelled on the loneliness that was beginning to set in.

All of your friends were straight, each one of them with a new crush weekly, able to rant, ramble and rave about their newest man.

Your friends were lovely people, but you found yourself terrified with the idea of telling them. Especially when it was all so fresh.

You’d gotten so used to cooping yourself up, withdrawing from revealing any information about your current life to your parents in fear that your little secret would come tumbling out.

Your parents had noticed your reluctance to talk to them. You were always somewhat of a chatterbox, talking to them about anything and everything, yet now you were quiet and less amicable.

But your brothers were home for the summer, filling all of the quiet gaps in your life that provided space for you to coop up, was now filled by the boisterous boys that loved to pester their younger sister.

“Hey, wake up. We’re here,” Luke shoved your shoulder, causing your unsuspecting body to jolt from its position against the car door. “I want ice cream.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked your finger into his forehead. You stifled a laugh as you rushed to hop out of the car, joining your other brothers before Luke could retaliate.

–

“So Mom says you’re not going to prom,” Quinn started, his voice a hum as he spooned ice cream into his mouth.

The three of you were sitting in the bed of the pickup truck belonging to your dad. After you’d bought the ice creams, Quinn had driven all of you to an overlook to park up and eat the ice creams in peace.

“Yeah…” you sighed, your body suddenly tensing at the direction of this conversation. Your fingers gripped the ice cream tub as you tried to act as nonchalant as possible. “I’m not.”

“What!” Jack whipped his head to face you, his eyes squinted. “But it’s prom! What did no boy ask you? You know you don’t have to have a date to go.”

His elbow nudged you as you lowered your cup, your appetite for ice cream decreasing rapidly.

“Yeah, what he said,” Luke mumbled through his mouthful of the sweet treat.

“I just don’t want to go,” You murmured, your head drooping praying to whatever phenomenon existed above that this conversation would end.

“But what about getting to dress up and have fun with friends?” Quinn asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in your downtrodden state. “Mom said she wanted to bring you dress shopping.”

The twisted turn in your stomach jerked at your eldest brother’s words, your lip trembling in frustration as he studied you. Usually Quinn wouldn’t push you to talk, allowing you to open up when you were ready…you didn’t like whatever person had replaced that Quinn.

“Prom is supposed to be fun,” Jack said pointedly, “Date or no date, you’ll enjoy yourself.

“It’s just a stupid dance,” you scoffed, getting fed up by the questions, your temper bubbling. Your brothers had no idea what bear they were poking as they prodded you with their queries and right now, all you wanted to do was go home. “Why can’t you just leave it?”

“Because you’ve wanted to go to prom for years, y/n/n,” Quinn’s voice softened, lowering his ice cream. “When we all went you were practically jumping with excitement for yours, what’s changed?”

You furrowed your brows, your eyes staring straight at your legs crossed ahead of you.

“Mom says you won’t talk to her, and dad won’t say it but he feels the exact same,” Your eldest brother continued, placing his ice cream down beside him as he scooted closer to you. “What’s going on?”

You glanced up, catching Luke and Jack staring at you, mouths full of ice cream and their eyes searching your fallen face.

“Nothing,” you began, swirling your melting ice cream, no longer interested in eating any more.

“Well that’s a lie,” Luke chortled, “you never shut up about anything. And for dad to notice?! Oh, you must’ve been quiet quiet.”

You cheeks burned in embarrassment as Luke spoke, you teeth sinking into the flesh of your inner cheek.

“Come on, y/n/n,” Jack added, “you know you want to tell us.”

Quinn’s voice lowered as he reached out to lightly touch your shoulder. "You know you can tell us anything, right?" He spoke, his eyes dropping to your fidgeting hands.

You bit your lip, the weight of their kindness pressing down on you. You had always been close with your brothers, but this was different. This was something you weren't sure they could understand. There was the ever present fear of rejection, the worry of disappointment and all of it swirled inside you, threatening to burst out if you didn’t keep it locked down.

But Quinn’s eyes were kind, Jack’s touch was comforting, and even Luke, with his goofy grin, looked genuinely concerned. They deserved to know. More importantly, you deserved to be honest with them.

"It's not that I don't want to go to prom," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "It's that I can't... because I don't want to go with a boy."

Silence fell over the truck bed, the only sound the distant hum of the town below and the occasional rustling of leaves surrounding you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for their reactions, your breath held tight. Your head had dropped to your chest in fear of looking at their faces.

Jack was the first to speak, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Are you...?" He trailed off.

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I like girls," you whispered, the words finally out in the open, a relief and a terror all at once. "I like them a lot…and I’m so scared. Scared of what Mom and Dad will think, what you guys will think...” your voice cracked as you blinked away your tears.

Quinn moved first, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice steady. "We love you no matter what. You’re our sister, and nothing’s ever gonna change that."

Jack and Luke quickly joined the hug, their ice creams long forgotten. Jack's grip was firm, and Luke's was warm, their comfort enveloping you. You let out a shaky breath, the heavy weight on your chest lifting ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we’ve got you, y/n/n,” Jack’s lips quirked up as he ruffled your hair.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Thank you for understanding."

"We're family, stupid," Luke said simply, a grin spreading across his face as he teased. "Now, can we finish these ice creams before they melt?"

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 1 day

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𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑨𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 (𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑫𝑶𝑽𝑬) MDNI 18+

In a world where curses rule and jujutsu sorcery is near dead, you caught the eye of Sukuna Ryomen. Everyone thought you would tame the beast, but boy were they wrong...

Warnings: rough, brutal, gore, blood, murder, curse sukuna, true form sukuna. Minors, blank and ageless blogs will be blocked.

Read the original here

His fingers dripped with the blood of the man who used to be your boss. Crimson droplets found their way down his hands, to his forearms, in pretty dark rivulets caressing the muscles that were straining under his skin.

Even in the darkness of the lightless office, the terror on the man's face was visible.

The same man who’d been chastising you for days now could only drop to his knees and beg for dear life.

“Please–please–I’ll never say a word to her again. Please I’ll leave, I won’t come back. I’ll—”

Sukuna cut him off with a swift kick to the head. There was a sickening crunch where his calf met the skull and the man’s already sorry figure slumped over on the floor.

“You’re right about that. You won’t be saying a single word to her ever again. And you won’t be coming back. I’ll make sure of that right here.” Sukuna reached out and lifted the man by his throat, crushing his windpipe like it was made of eggshell.

Blood squirted out, hitting Sukuna in the face, and dripped onto the floor – everywhere but he didn't flinch.

The Curse finished off the man in front of him by plunging a hand into his abdomen and ripping out organs, flesh, muscle — anything that dared to come in the rampage path of his fingers.

He let go, dropping the carcass into a heap on the floor.

The whole time Sukuna worked, you stared at him. He took care of the problem that had sent you home irritable and crying for the past month, made your anxiety spike several notches, and left you questioning your self-worth. You were incredibly aroused by him. Here, in the little office your boss kept reprimanding you in, he had finally got what he deserved, all thanks to the man in front of you.

Your legs moved on their own and you found yourself walking upto the man. A silent rage stormed just below the still facade he kept up for your sake. “He dared to hurt what is mine…” Sukuna’s voice rumbled like the low call of thunder.

“Ryo…” you called out softly.

A bloody hand shot out and grabbed you by the hair, pulling you into his tight embrace. “He dared hurt what is mine!” Sukuna roared.

Sukuna groped you from below, lifting you up to his face with ease. His fingers dug into the soft fat of your ass and he squeezed it territorially.

The fluorescent light of the street lamp outside lit a side of his face. Sukuna in his true form towered over you – a hulking figure that was as large as he was strong.

But the gentleness with which he kissed you was nothing like his visage. His free hands tangled in your hair, smearing blood all over you, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered right now but him.

Sukuna ripped your dress in half from the front, laying you bare in front of him. His mouth attacked the skin of your chest, sucking and nipping at your tits.

“You're – kiss – fucking – kiss – MINE!” His hands grabbed your breasts and he sucked and licked at your nipples. Below, the mouth on his stomach seemed to have woken, and his large tongue was pushing your panties aside and prodding at your weeping cunt.

The torn fabric fluttered about you when Sukuna lifted you onto your ex-boss’ desk. He cleared it with a sweep of his arms, the monitor and papers crashing into the floor in a messy heap.

Sukuna spat on your clit, and with two fingers rubbed against it hard. His two cocks were already at attention, and all he had to do was to part his robe to sink himself into you.

The pull was unbelievable. Your rim burnt struggling to take him. But Sukuna was merciless. He lowered his head with an animalistic growl and bit at your shoulder. You screamed in pain coupled with a confused pleasure. Something warm and thick trickled down your back, and you realised that Sukuna had broken skin. His tongue lapped at the blood dripping from you.

Sukuna’s second cock brushed against your clit with each thrust and you felt your pussy dripping with need.

No words were exchanged. Just a cry from you and Sukuna’s mouth found yours. He captured your lips in a heated kiss – all tongue and teeth.

His hands kneaded at your breasts, where a tongue encircled your nipple, working in tandem with his fingers to tease and tweak the soft fat.

“Ryo…” you tried again.

“Shh, let me take care of you.” He groaned into your mouth. “Such a good little pet. All for me. Gonna fill you up with my seed. Make you carry my heir.”

“Ryo please…” you begged. What for, you didn't know, but it pleased him.

He smiled and lifted you. Using your body like a toy, he slammed you onto his cock over and over. Your tits swung in his face and the sight made him feel his release was near. He slammed you back on the table and climbed on top on all fours, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he thrust into you with renewed vigour.

You heard a creak under you, and Sukuna lifted you into his arms, thrusting deep inside where his cock jerked, spilling his come in you. In between your two bodies, his second cock also squirted out a sticky white come that coated your tummies.

Despite being covered in his release and blood, and your clothes tattered, Sukuma lifted you in his arms and held you close.

“No man will ever hurt you again, my queen.”

He walked out, stepping on the remains of your ex-boss. The room was in shambles – table broken, papers scattered.

But you didn't need to bother. Your shitty boss wouldn't be telling you off for it after all...

AN: HI. THIS WAS SELF INDULGENT. BYE.

Big thanks to @ominouslywritinginmyhead for proofing and beta

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likedovesinthewindd · 21 hours

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winner winner; part 3 of sore loser ⋆ part 2

summary: you play astoundingly better when you know they're watching | content/warning: explicit language, reader being kinda mean, shitty tennis descriptions, light angst but not really.

It's weeks before you see either one of them again. You'd catch glimpses of Art here and there when moving around campus, but you never made an effort to stop and talk to him. A small part of you was a bit embarrassed about your behavior from that night, not having a clue where the sudden confidence had come from.

But you also had to admit you thought about that night often. There was something very addictive about having two people hanging at your every word, sat at your lap like scolded puppies.

You had never felt anything like the way you had felt that night, with Patrick biting and sucking at your neck while you looked at the painfully sullen expression on Art's face. It's a feeling you only allowed yourself to relish in the dead of the night, when you were all alone with nothing else but your thoughts to occupy you.

You willed those thoughts away for now, cringing at the fact that you were thinking about them now of all times.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

"Did you fuck her?"

Patrick's question caught Art of, even if he had been expecting it eventually. He rolled his eyes at his friend's crass language. "No," Art answered, sinking a bit further into the uncomfortable pavillion seat, "she avoids me like the plague."

"D'you think she regrets what happened that night?" Patrick asked after a short silence. "I dunno," he answered, crossing his arms as he squinted down at the empty clay turf. His back straightened when the announcer's voice boomed across the speakers, shortly after catching a glimpse of you as you emerged onto the turf with the rest of the girls.

You were laughing at something one of your teammates were saying, a smile reminiscent of the one you had gave him that night as you beckoned him closer.

You made your way over to one of the benches, plopping your bag down before you started stretching. Soon Patrick's eyes were glued to you as well, the two of them quietly observing as you got ready for your singles match.

Your eyes briefly scanned over the small crowd as you did a few crossbody stretches. It didn't take you long to notice the two boys sitting third row, their eyes already focused on you. The smiles that gradually stretched across both their faces almost made you burst out in laughter, but you couldn't find it in you to laugh at them, much less even look at them.

You turned your back on them, not sparing them another look or even a greeting as you sighed, physically feeling the tension return to your shoulders.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

You bounced the ball in your hand two, three times, every soft thud as the ball met the turf vibrating throughout your body and up your spine. You looked at your opponent and then briefly up at the crowd, everyone mute in anticipation. Your eyes met theirs again because of course it did.

Neither of them were smiling anymore, practically hunched over in their seats as they waited for your next move.

You just need to get out of your head.

Your serve is strong, and once you hear Farren Troy's sneakers squeek against the clay as she scurries after the ball, it's like a switch is flipped in your head, and the only thing you could see in your peripheral is the ball going back and forth between the two of you.

Patrick and Art's eyes follow you like a hawk, backs now straight as pins and on the edge of their seats as they watch you walk poor Farren Troy like a dog. The last time they had watched you play it was a close, tough game but today's game almost seemed unfair, Farren scurrying around the turf like a headless chicken as you gave her absolute hell.

They were laser focused on every little detail; every grunt and punched out groan-scream that left your mouth as you hit the ball, the way your limbs stretched out to hit the ball just right and ultimately the way that coy smile stretched across your pretty face when the scores were read.

You gave Farren a handshake over the net, thanking her before making your way back to the chair, sitting down with a grunt as the feeling washed over you.

This was why you played– this feeling was unlike anything else. Indescribable and inimitable. It settled deep in your bones and made you lightheaded with pride. No drug could come close, you decided in that moment.

The locker rooms were filled with happy chatter and laughing, boosting your mood even more as you made your way back to your dorm room, your bed the only thing on your mind. On your way, you made a detour to the food court, going to try your luck with their vending machine for a snack or two.

You should've been surprised to find Art there, but you weren't. A part of you, albeit small, hoped he'd be there. You gave him a small smile as you made your way over to the vending machine. To your luck, it jammed, the pack of pretzels taunting you as they hung on the cusp and way out of your reach.

A sudden kick to its side, though, and the packet felt right down and into your grateful grasp. "Thank you," you said begrudgingly as Art leaned his body against the side of the machine, watching as you bent down to grab your snack.

You sighed when you stood at full height, and he still wasn't gone, but against your better judgment, you decided to play along for a little while. "Where's your boyfriend?" you asked, opening the packet and taking two pretzels out. "On a bus to San Francisco," he answered. You pouted playfully. "Ah, that's too bad. I would've liked to catch up," you frowned. "Oh, so I'm only of importance when he's around. Otherwise you ignore me?" he asked.

"I never said that," you argued, placing another pretzel in your mouth, finishing chewing completely before you continued, "It's just more fun when it's both of you."

"I'll see you around," you added before being on your way. "What do I have to do to get your number?" he shouted at your back and you shrugged, before you spoke up. "Practise with me tomorrow."

✰ ⊹ ˚. part 4

#challengers #challengers x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig #likedovesinthewindd

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bloodymiso · 3 days

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★ pakisabi nalang sa kanya — multifandom x gn!reader

how did they show their love for you pre-confession + how did they confess?

a/n: always wanted to do one of these posts teehee:3 | fandoms: genshin impact, stardew valley, l&co + haikyuu!! | warnings: none!

— through letters “sometimes, love creates a poet.”

words weren’t enough to explain their love for you, but putting some action into it might help. day and night, they put their admiration for you into sweet, beautiful words they wished would help them explain what you had done to their hearts. though they knew those words could never explain even a third(1/3) of what their heart ached to say. once, twice, even thrice a week you’d arrive to school/work with a little note under your desk, locker, or even in your lunchbox. letters filled with toe-wiggling poems, songs, and beautiful paragraphs which overflowed with love in every single line started piling up in your room. they wondered what you even did to their letters, were they rotting away in the trashcan? were they turned to dust by the fire you lit in your backyard? or were they kept safely in a small box under your bed, a heart encircled on its cover? little by little, they added clues to their identity, whether it be a flower which was related to them, or a little trinket from your past encounters. one day, they handed you a letter by hand, after of course getting you on a whole treasure hunt to find out where to go. that little adventure led you to a garden. with you sweaty, stressed out, and confused, they confessed right there.

gi. KAZUHA, diluc, fischl, XINGQIU, kokomi, alhaitham(HEAR ME OUT), charlotte sdv. ELLIOT l&co. kipps(again, HEAR ME OUT) + your faves!! ♡

— quietly “in silence, we often find the deepest connection.”

it took them a while to understand what was happening, the way their hearts beat faster at your mere presence, the way the curve on your lips seemed to infect their own, the way they always couldn’t wait for the next day purely because of you. after hours of staring at the ceiling, they came to a conclusion—it was love. that was all. you weren’t some sorcerer who snatched their heart, nor were you a weirdo who spiked their drink, you were you, and apparently, they liked that. ever since their “awakening” they started doing little things for you. whether it was returning one of your pens they saw on the floor, or refilling your water bottle whenever you were too focused on works/studies. all these little things came unnoticed by you, but they knew they were making a difference

day by day, the spark between you grew. smiles were exchanged as you made eye contact, now, they weren’t afraid to do things for you in the dark, now they could step out of the shadows, and help you as they were. their confession was abrupt, and unexpected at that. as they stood in front of your desk, they held out a singular rose.

gi. NEUVILLETTE, cyno, diluc, XIAO, sucrose, freminet, wanderer sdv. sebastian, leah, penny hq. KAGEYAMA TOBIO, kozume kenma + your faves!! ♡

— proudly “you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

oh this little shit. they couldn’t get enough of you, nor could practically everyone else around them, they had no choice! always blabbing about how angelic you were, how your happiness seemed to be so..contagious. “okay so today—“ they started, before their poor friend quickly placed a hand on their somehow always open mouth. “don’t even start.” you’d think people would like to keep their crushes secret, especially to the one they admire but nope! even you knew! get ready for flirting galore. i don’t think they would even need a confession, the whole nation practically knew at this point. there were times you thought their love for you was fake, that they were just joking. i mean, they never actually confessed.

well, until now, of course. they got news to spread around town that they got a lover and that they’ve been spotted at the local cafe which may or may not have caught your attention. now, they stood there, bouquet in hand(coffee in the other) and friends all around.

“so uh, would you like to be that lover?”

gi. TARTAGLIA, KAEYA, baizhu, beidou sdv. sam(?) l&co. LOCKWOOD hq. iwaizumi haijime, OIKAWA TOORU, tanaka ryūnosuke + your faves!! ♡

— through teasing “pride often gets in the way of love.”

oh god did you hate their ass. woke up at 5am just to be early to work/school?oops! they beat you there, now they won’t stop talking about it! they love teasing you, they just can’t stop. sometimes they wonder if the real reason theyre teasing you is to cover up what’s really under their skin, to cover up the hook you pierced through their heart. it ate them up from the inside, but no way were they gonna admit that! if someone’s gonna confess, it better be you first..

they would have confessed rather stupidly. having gone to a bar in the evening with their friends, they called your number(which they got after getting down on their knees and begging) and confessed right there, their voice slurred, it was obvious how many glasses they chugged down. the next day, they remembered absolutely nothing, it took you a few days before finally confronting them about it.

“wait what?! i confessed to you? d-do you like me back?”

gi. TARTAGLIA(again), KAEYA(again), itto, sdv. shane(ig) hq. kuroo tetsurō, TSUKISHIMA KEI, bokuto kōtarō + your faves!! ♡

extra. through songs/music ( kazuha, itto, elliot sdv, tsukishima kei & lucy carlyle) . through food ( XIANGLING, ningguang, emily sdv + me/hj)

(><) wanna support? reblog with tags pookie!!

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sapphicnae · 1 day

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No exceptions?

Summary: Regina was mean to everyone, no exceptions. Yet when she was around you, it was a completely different story…

Pairing: Regina x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just Regina being her mean self! But mostly fluff!

Words: 1.6k

Requested!

A/N: I really loved writing this one-shot, I’m a sucker for seeing Regina’s soft side for the reader and the reader only. I’m hoping to make a masterlist soon so you guys can see who I’ll write for. I’d love to write for any mean girls ships and I have a Leighton Murray fic in mind too which I’m dying to write. Requests are open!

Regina George had made fun of nearly everyone at school. No one was immune to her relentless teasing, that’s just the way it was at North Shore - so why was it that she had never seemed to target you before? You didn’t seem to mind it at all. In a way, it made you feel special.

The first incident of this type of treatment started when you had been walking rather quickly down a hallway to your next class. You had gotten so carried away studying in the library, that you hadn’t heard the bell ring. This led to you rushing to get to math class, not paying much attention to your surroundings. In the next step, you had felt yourself crash into someone in front of you. Judging from the way surrounding voices became hushed and the way you felt as though the halls had eyes all of a sudden, you could have guessed who it was without even looking at them. It was Regina George. In that moment, as you realised the identity of the girl who towered over you, you had braced yourself for an onslaught of insults. Yet they never came. Instead, upon meeting her gaze, you had seen her eyes soften, followed by her giving you an almost apologetic smile. But, before you could utter your own apology to her, she had already disappeared into the sea of students.

You had imagined that moment to have been a one-time thing. Maybe she was in a really good mood that day - you tried anything to brush off her strange behaviour. But then came the second incident, where you had been heading into the cafeteria to grab some lunch and sit with your usual group of friends. As you had entered the cafeteria, you could already hear Regina’s voice loud enough, making her usual scathing comments about people as they walked past her table. Talking about their appearance, their clothes, or their hair - how trashy they looked. Once again, as you made your way past the table where the plastics were seated, you had mentally prepared yourself for whatever nasty comment would inevitably leave Regina’s mouth. Yet, when she had spotted your nervous gaze on her, all she did in return was smirk. You could’ve sworn she had given a subtle wink at you too, but with your racing thoughts, it was hard not to focus on simply making it past her as quickly as possible.

It was twice now, that you had escaped Regina’s infamous wrath. Which had left you wondering the reasons why - not that you were complaining.

It was actually nice not having to worry about being the target of Regina’s verbal attacks. So, within the next few days, you had grown the confidence to gift her warm smiles whenever you would catch her gaze.

Then came the following week in the class that both you and Regina happened to share. As usual, you walked in and took a seat right in the corner, tucked away from everyone, ready to daydream your way through the hour. You had spotted Regina surrounded by Gretchen and Karen, chatting and giggling, while the teacher droned on about whatever chapter the class would be asked to read for next week’s quiz. You were finding it a little hard to focus on your own thoughts, as you kept feeling Regina’s gaze on you every so often. She was making it incredibly subtle – but not subtle enough.

What broke you out of your daydream was when the teacher seemed to have had enough of the chatter from the plastics, as she had suddenly ordered Regina and Gretchen to switch seats with other students. The worst part about this wasn’t that your daydreaming was interrupted, but that the student Regina was made to switch seats with, happened to be the student sitting next to you. You watched as she had rolled her eyes in the process of making her way over to the space next to you. She feigned indifference, as though sitting next to you wasn’t a big deal.

She had been waiting for a chance all week to finally get closer to you.

You can feel Regina’s presence next to you as you steal a glance at her before attempting to keep your focus towards the front. You seemed to be succeeding for a short while until, in your peripheral vision, you notice Regina drop her pencil. It rolls towards your desk. You have no time to wonder if it’s intentional or not before you feel her lean towards you, brushing her arm against yours as she reaches to pick it back up. This slight touch causes a flutter in your stomach, which you tried to hide by remaining stoic. Though as she rose back up, instead of returning back to her own space, she leaned in close, her lips next to your ear.

“What’re you doing after school, pretty girl?”

Her voice, low and confident, sent a small shiver down your spine. As she moved backwards you felt her eyes boring into you, in an intense yet nervous manner. Caught slightly off guard, you hesitated, wondering how you should respond…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This first interaction accelerated the relationship between you and Regina. You began to grow very close and she was making it much more obvious to people at school that you were hers. You would often go over to her house, sometimes accompanied by Gretchen and Karen, sometimes alone. Nothing romantic had happened between the two of you, yet some strange tension always lingered whenever you were around each other. You hadn’t bothered to question it; you were simply enjoying being placed on a pedestal in Regina’s eyes. Though, some of her passing comments would trigger that same flutter in your stomach as the first time she had spoken to you.

In the same class, a few weeks later, you had walked in to take your usual seat. You then watched as Regina struts in and makes her way towards the student who had decided to sit next to you. In the next moment, you saw them scamper away as Regina had ordered them to move.

“It’s nice to see that pretty little face of yours light up whenever I come around”

She whispered in sultry tone, as she settled into her seat. Until she had spoken those words, you hadn’t noticed the shy smile you had been sporting in response to her making the effort just to sit next to you. The remainder of the hour passed by uneventful.

The bell, which signified the lunch period, finally rang. This meant the majority of the class had packed up and left within a minute or so, leaving you completely alone with Regina. The tension that was always present between the two of you, seemed to fill the room once again. Once you had packed your things, you got out of your seat, ready to follow the rest of your classmates to the cafeteria – yet your plans were interrupted after you sensed Regina leave her seat behind you. You felt a hand catch yours which caused you to spin around to see why she was holding you back.

“Regina, I’m so hungry I’m about to ravage the next edible thing I see. What’s up?” You questioned her, with a sense of urgency knowing you were losing your chance to be first in the lunch line.

“Quit whining pretty girl, I just wanted you alone. I haven’t stopped thinking about you allll day.” The tone of her voice practically made you melt in front of her. It was hard to resist her after the treatment she had given you these past few weeks. From the touch of her hand to her soft voice, you had almost forgotten why you were in such a rush to leave the room. Though, now you were alone, you did have one question that had been playing on your mind from the day she started treating you differently. Until this moment you hadn’t realised how much the shared tension had been getting to you.

“Hmm All day?” You fell silent for a moment, hesitating, before continuing “and how do I know this isn’t all a joke, huh? Out of all the people in this school G, why me? What makes me so different from the others?” You spoke in a curious tone, though remaining flirty. Judging from her break in eye contact, she hadn’t expected you to question her intentions here, of all places. After a moment, she thought of an idea on how to reassure you, whilst still maintaining the tone of the exchange. She stood tall in front of you, pulling you toward her, gripping either side of your waist now. She looked down at you slightly, moving from your eyes to your lips, then back your eyes again. With the corners of her mouth raised, she replied in a low voice,

“You know what I think of most people in this school? I don't. The only person I ever think about is you. I want to show you exactly what sets you apart from the rest…” Without allowing you time to respond, she leaned her face down, attempting to meet your lips with her own…

“GUYS HURRY UP, IT’S FRIDAY WHICH MEANS THEY’RE DOING CHEESY FRIES.”

Karen’s voice echoed across the room, causing the two of you to jump apart, startled by the sudden interruption. Being lost in the shared moment, neither of you had heard her come rushing back into the classroom to find you. You felt your face grow red hot and saw Regina clearly sharing the same level of embarrassment. After exchanging an awkward glance, Regina gripped your hand once more and led you towards the door, a mix of excitement and frustration left hanging between you both.

#regina george #regina george x reader #renee rapp #mean girls 2024 #fanfic #regina x reader #mean girls musical #fluff

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gojonanami · 2 hours

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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR THESIS ADVISOR !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (yuta x f!reader) (part six of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: just when you had moved on, suguru is back in your life as your thesis advisor, and what choice do you have but to deal -- deal with lingering feelings from your breakup, but also yuta's. and through this, you both find out what you all owe to each other.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, post breakup, dealing with exes, insecurity, semi-exhibitionism, desk sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, multiple orgasms, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / kyrraen (pls go follow them, they are so talented)

Suguru never had believed in fate before — before he met you.

And now it seemed fate had its own plans for the both of you — pulling you together, even when he had tried his best to push the two of you apart. Try he had, and in the end, you both ended up back where you had started — seated across from each other with a pile of papers littered with red pen.

Except now he himself had found himself littered with you — your tie pin you had given him, the way his fingers wanted to smooth your brow with a kiss as it furrowed while you flipped through your proposal, and how his heart felt whole from the moment you walked in the room. And he knew he would be littered with your marks all his life, more permanent than ink — and he would never be able rid himself of them.

Or of you.

When Yaga had come to him with the news, it was already too much to handle. He was being re-assigned to Tokyo to handle duties for both schools for a time — until someone stepped up to handle Kyoto. Yaga didn’t trust anyone else — and since Suguru had worked at Tokyo longer, it made sense to have him go back.

But then the question of you — the reminder came on the form of your email during their meeting — and you came into his world again the same way you did before — an email for a meeting. But it wasn’t for him.

Not yet at least.

It was hard to know what to do, or what you would want. Yaga could have you re-assigned, but the thesis you were working on was in Suguru’s specialty and he knew half the reason you had asked Yaga was to have a department head listed on your thesis. And to rob you of that wasn’t a choice he wanted to make for you.

He’s done enough of that to you. And he had done it for your future — and he would do this for your future, if you wanted him to.

You’re speechless when he breaks the news to you — as he expected you would be. But his surprise comes when you reply — he expected anger, frustration, a straight out refusal to work with him — but he did not get any of those — he only got quiet acceptance.

“Fine, should we stick to the same schedule that Yaga and I agreed to?” And Suguru takes a minute, leaning back in his chair, “what?”

“I just…I didn’t expect you to accept so readily,” he replies softly, choosing his words carefully, “in my email, I said you could take time to think about it or we could procure a different advisor—“

“Professor,” the word sticks in his chest like a right dagger that barely misses his heart, “out of everyone who works in this department I know you are the only one who is capable of pushing me to be my best, even when I don’t ask for it,” you add under your breath, “especially when I don’t ask for it,”

A hollow chuckle is stuck in his throat, “If you’re sure, it’s your choice,” and he’s looking for a few notes and edits he had written out for you for the schedule you sent along previously.

“It is my choice,” you echo, your eyes meet his, as he looks up from the papers strewn about the desk, “and I choose this,” and he knows all too well what you mean by your deliberate choice of words— and he did love you for your cutting tongue.

Even when it was used against him.

“If you do, then can you choose to come to my old office?” And you’re blinking, brow furrowing — and his cheeks burn, “I left your schedule there — I had a few notes regarding my own schedule,”

You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of a smart remark on the tip of your tongue that you seemingly swallow, as you gather the proposal into your bag, “let’s go,”

The walk over is in relative silence, the campus mostly quiet with the impending end of the semester at bay — as he forces his gaze forward, but that doesn’t stop his traitorous eyes from sneaking glances all the same. Why was it that he was a lighthouse and his eyes were spotlights only made to find your ship on the dark waves of the sea.

And you stop in your tracks, a glance at your face doesn’t give him the answer — but another face does.

“Yuta?” And he’s holding your lunch bag — the same one you insisted on taking with you, refusing to spend more money on the overpriced lunch on campus. And the realization hits him all at once, and he’s suddenly toppling headfirst into the waves.

“You forgot your lunch,” Yuta offers an awkward smile — and Suguru’s eyes find your face again, right before he goes under — the same soft look you gave him.

Used to give him.

And he lets the water overtake him.

~~~

“You forgot your lunch,”

And you never thought a rushed morning would lead to the most awkward moment of your life. Yuta glances between you and Suguru, as you step forward to take your lunch from his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, as if to ground yourself.

“Yuta, this is Professor Geto, he taught one of the classes I took and he’s taking over as my thesis advisor,” and you’re only lucky Suguru is able to tuck away emotions so easily, a polite smile on his lips as he offers his hand to Yuta, “this is Yuta, my boyfriend,”

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze as you say it — but you wonder what you would find — hurt, anger, or nothing at all? And you couldn’t figure out which would hurt the most.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru says, before shaking his hand, and Yuta nods.

“Likewise,” and Suguru turns to you, hands slipping into his pockets, while yours remained laced with Yuta’s — but how long ago would it had been intertwined in his? “On second thought, I’ll email you my edits to your thesis schedule, I’ll leave you both to the rest of your day,” he gives a stiff smile, before heading on his way.

And he knew this was a future of his own making — the consequences of his own actions.

He gives a bitter chuckle. Consequentialism — the morality is centered around creating the right consequences — and wasn’t it right? Right for you to be happy with someone your age? Right to be with someone who you can hold their hand and be with? Right to be with someone who can give you everything and anything you want?

“I understand the intention of consequentialism, but it just feels so pointless,” you had said while the two of you sat watching TV on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap, the comfortable warmth of your head resting on his shoulder.

“That’s not where I thought your mind was,” Suguru had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but still he indulged, “the point is to get as much good as possible out of a decision correct? The most happiness?”

Your brow remained furrowed, “But the problem is the cost of it — it can come at the cost of your own happiness if it’s creating the right consequences,”

“That’s more utilitarianism—“ and you shrug.

“I understand it’s more complicated, but I don’t see the value in making decisions like that — doesn’t it defeat the purpose because you’re doing it for the outcome — without considering your feelings or the others? You’re nothing more than a happiness pump,”

And as he sneaks a glance back, watching you and Yuta stand there still, fingers still intertwined, his fingers squeeze the handle of his bag, is that why it feels so wrong?

He arrived back at his office, fingers turning the knob and finding an empty tomb — the walls stripped down to the bare, a thick layer of dust that clung to the surfaces, the couch he had in the corner of the room likely relocated to another office — that he thought he had finally left behind. But here he was again — right back where he started.

He dragged his finger through the dust on his desk. Was he nothing more than a happiness pump? Giving himself pain for the sake of others’ happiness — and was the outcome worth it? But he’s swallowing down his pain — a bitter consequence he had to take — because he knew — he would take any pain, if it meant you were happy.

And you were.

Right?

~~~

Yuta knew — he did even before he had started to date you. Or rather, he had suspected. But now he knew.

The first time he saw the two of you bump into each other, he knew because of the way Geto looked at you — and even the way you looked at him — the hurt flickering in your gaze, even when you refused to look at him.

Professor Geto has been much more than a professor to you — he was your boyfriend, the same one Yuta had envied for so many months. Only for him to be back in your life again. And he felt like he was right back to where he had started in your life again — a friend.

And there wasn’t a thing wrong with being your friend — but now that he was more than one, he knew he only wanted even more of you — and to give more of himself. If you would let him.

But when your fingers curled around his, ‘boyfriend’ slipping from your lips, assuaged his anxiety for a moment, but as he watched your eyes find the back of Geto’s head after he left, it all came back.

Your fingers squeeze his, “Thank you for bringing my lunch, Yu,” and it brings him back to the moment, and your face is so readable in this moment — as if to make up for the times he couldn’t make sense of you — searching for an indication that he knew, an implication of his emotions, a question unspoken to ask if he knew.

And he did.

“Of course, baby,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he wants to tell you he does, wants to ask you why you hid it, why you felt you couldn’t be honest, and why you look like you’re still as heartbroken as the day he ran into you outside this building, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later,” but he doesn’t ask.

“Yuta—“ but he’s only pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, fingers cupping his cheek.

“I love you,” and your lips curl into a small smile.

“I love you too,” and it was enough, he thought, as his fingers parted from yours, and he turned to leave.

It was enough, for now.

~~~

How do you tell someone something they already know? You snuck glances at your own boyfriend after dinner, as the two of you settled in to watch something to unwind. The day had gone by as expected, but the crawling anxiety only grew as more time passed, the words wanting nothing more than to leave your mouth.

Why was it you when you had so much to say you couldn’t say it? And now when you had to explain, no words could leave your lips?

God, how the fuck did you catch yourself in this mess? Your ex as your thesis advisor — was this karma for being unethical? A cruel consequence of the choices you made? Maybe fate? No, it wasn’t fate. Things were better without Suguru in your life, simpler and easier. And you were happy — but now this, this just had the potential to ruin everything.

But only if you let it.

And the longer you went without discussing this, the more damage it would be. It was a secret you had chosen to keep — you didn’t think it was pertinent, especially with Suguru in Kyoto. It was a detail you could spare, at least until after you graduated,

But now it couldn’t wait.

It was a piano hanging by a string that’s already snapped and it was on its last fibers, swinging back and forth, waiting to see whether you would push Yuta and yourself out of the way — or whether one or both of you would get crushed in the process.

The walk back to your apartment is an exercise in coping mechanisms to prevent panic or anxiety from settling fully into your skin, holding the string together with your arms seemingly, ready for it to tear you apart.

But it doesn’t.

“I have to talk to you,” you say once you and Yuta are sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under the other to prevent you from shaking it, or running away for that matter, “it’s nothing bad — well, I mean it’s not—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head, “just know I love you, and that hasn’t changed—“

And his lips find yours, cutting off your frantic thoughts with a sweet kiss that only leaves you wanting more, but also leaves you with more questions than answers.

He pulls away, a small smile on his lips, “Breath “ and you sigh, taking a breath, “and I love you too,” your fingers interlace with his, “what is it?”

But you don’t even know where to begin, except at the point, “You know the ex that broke my heart before we dated?” And he’s nodding, “Professor Geto is—“

“Is your ex,” he finishes, and you knew he had figured out, but you hadn’t expected it to come out so matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling and this morning confirmed it,”

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “after he moved, I never thought he would move back, much less become my thesis advisor,” you bury your face in your hands, “and I don’t want you to think I was hiding it. It’s just with the relationship being taboo, I didn’t think—“

“You were trying to protect yourself and your ex, it’s understandable,” he squeezes your hand, “you couldn’t have expected this to happen,”

And you’re lifting your gaze to his, “How are you so calm? How are you so…okay?”

He gives a sigh, “it’s hard, I’m trying to stay rational for you — for us,” you lean against him, “what are you going to do? About your thesis?”

“I think I’ll have to take Suguru as my advisor. I don’t have much of a choice,” you bite your lip, “I could take another, but no other professor has the same specialization as Yaga, except Geto, and I know he’ll give me good feedback,”

“But?” You rest your head in your hand.

“But having to spend that much time with my ex? Having to work on something so important to my career with him? Having to put you through that?” you feel more lost than when you began this conversation, “I don’t know what to do. I already agreed to it, but I think it’s only sinking in,” and you turn to him, “and then there’s you,”

“What about me?” and you shake your head.

“How can I put you through watching me spending hours with my ex over the next semester?” And Yuta shakes your head.

“A decision important to your future shouldn’t just be based on me, it should be about you,” and you purse your lips — another reason why Yuta was so sweet, as you lean against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I’ll keep him as my advisor for now, but if you have a problem, please talk to me okay?” You lean back to look at him, “please?”

“Of course,” and his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, “and you always deserve me — because I chose you.” You kissed him, his arms curling around you, as you leaned into his touch — the one place that always felt safe.

And you didn’t know that he just hoped — you’d choose him too.

~~~

Fuck. How was it you found yourself before Professor Geto’s door yet again?

Winter break had flown by and now you found yourself back in the office you thought you had left behind not so long ago. Even if it felt like forever. You had spent your time split between working on your thesis, with the edits to your outline that Suguru had provided you, and with Yuta — who was more endlessly understanding than you could have hoped to imagine. And even today, as you headed off to meet Suguru in his office, he had nothing but soothing words for your nerves, sweet kisses, and a promise for a good meal when you got home.

You hovered before the door of his office — no matter what had happened throughout these months, why did it always feel as if you always ended up here? Pulled against your will into a rotation around him — one that would have you stuck into a constant push and pull — and just when you had let go of his grip, you were pulled back in. And as your fist hovered next to the door, bracing to knock, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back in.

But what you didn’t know as you stood before the door was that the man behind it was more anxious about this meeting than you were.

~~~

“You’re early,” Suguru glances up from his paperwork, his top of his pen pressed to the seam of his lips, “for once,”

Suguru himself had nearly been late this morning — ever the hypocrite, he supposed. He could barely sleep the night before, spent catching up on the work piled up for two department heads while the Kyoto campus makes potential temporary candidates jump through hoops. And then there was the other reason, his meeting with you — and all the complicated feelings he didn’t wish to entangle himself in. And yet he always fell deeper into your web, as if he didn’t willingly ensnare himself to begin with.

He didn’t even know Yaga was sick, but he had seen the change in him. The subtle differences in his demeanor, the bags around his eyes, and the creeping slowness that came with illness. But it still hit like a gut punch to hear it from his mouth, and for him to ask to take over duties for him was a double edged blade of honor and complication.

Yaga had given him the option to turn it down: to keep managing everything from Kyoto — but he accepted anyway — accepted because he knew that you’d be out of a thesis advisor. And he would be left unable to help from Kyoto with the in person role an advisor played.

And so he was here.

When he finally had gotten to lay down, eyes fixed on the familiar ceiling fan again — as he had managed to get his old apartment back by some miracle — and he hates how this place is a husk of itself without you here. But even with you here before him, his eyes snuck at glance at you, it somehow was worse being with you — when he was nothing to you. He could bear to not be your lover, but he couldn’t bear the weight of your hatred, or worse, your indifference.

You cross your arms, your laptop bag draped on your shoulder, “You’ll never let that go until one of us is dead will you?”

“That’s assuming we wouldn’t haunt the other,” he replies without missing a beat, as you take a seat across from him, eyes taking in his office. The same set up from before, if not a little less ostentatious and obnoxious — a few missing pictures and awards tucked away, the missing luxury sofa, and the lack of leather bound books lining shelves, instead minimally decorated with a few select titles — including What Do We Owe Each Other, prominently displayed.

“I have better things to do than haunt you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop from your bag, “did you forget to finish unpacking?” And he doesn’t offer even a look up at your remark.

“No, just decided to take a certain person’s advice and try to take a less pretentious approach to my office,” his lips curled in that damnable wry smile of his, “plus not everything has been sent back from Kyoto yet,” and he leans forward, plucking your revised thesis outline from the neat piles lined up on his desk, “but my office decor isn’t why we’re here,” he flips through his notes on your draft, “the outline is in good shape, have you started on your draft?”

You pull a stapled stack out to slide to him, “I have fleshed out some of my main points and I wanted your thoughts before I dove further,” and he takes it before scanning through it, silent as he peruses the contents.

His eyes flit up, “You didn’t have to wait for my approval—“

“I know, but I value your opinion,” you grumble, eyes averted as you admit it, a graze of your teeth against the bottom of your lip. It draws a small smile from him, hidden away behind his closed fist pressed to his lips, “as my advisor,” you add, and he nods.

The meeting finished up with much else, as you slide your laptop and things back into your bag. And for the first time your eyes meet his.

“Have you been sleeping okay?” and he’s blinking a moment, as you continue, “you look tired. You should sleep more instead of working,”

He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“

“You have bags under your eyes, Professor,” you roll your eyes, “listen or don’t, but I rather my thesis isn’t re-assigned last minute because you ran yourself into the ground,” you say before turning to leave.

“I expect your next draft by the beginning of the next week,” and you pause, the click of the knob as you pull the door open.

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” And you’re gone, door shutting behind you, and he leans back in his chair, a smile that he can’t quite hide on his lips.

Maybe he wasn’t quite nothing to you after all.

~~~

“I’m home, baby,” you say, as you walk in, the burden of the day still in the process of sliding off your back as you passed through the threshold of your apartment. You stripped yourself of your cost and your shoes, hanging your bag up, “Yu?”

You checked your phone with no text or call from him — he said he would be at your place, and that’s when you spot a familiar mop of black hair from the couch. Your lips curl as you round the couch, only to find him fast asleep, his work spread out around him. His first day back seemed as stressful as yours, and yet he hadn’t complained.

His bags were dark — a product of a bad night’s sleep — a running trend for today seemingly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he wouldn’t wake simply by that, but you heard the quiet mumble of words you couldn’t catch. You glanced at the kitchen and found dinner prepped but not made. You smile softly, as you take the throw blanket and gently spread it over him, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and then rising to your feet.

You’re almost done cooking curry when Yuta stirs, the smell of the stewing beef and spices waking him, as he lifts his head, back of his hand rubbing his eye, while he glances at you with the other.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” your lips curl, doing a bad job of stifling your chuckle at the sight of his black hair askew, “dinner is almost ready,”

“Dinner? When did you get—“ and he picks up his phone to check the time, a small groan stuck in his throat, “why didn’t you wake me when you got home?”

“I would have,” you wipe off your hands, as you make your way to the living room, as Yuta swings his legs off the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but you’re so cute when you’re sleeping,” and his cheeks flush an ever so subtle pink — even after this time together, it was so easy to fluster him, “plus, it looked like you needed it,”

Your hand brushes his cheek, and he’s leaning into your touch, your other hand running fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “I did,” he mumbles, “it was a long day,”

“Want to talk about it over some rice and curry?” and he bites his lip, before he leans in to press a sweet kiss to you, delighting in the desperate look he gives you when you drag your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips only to pull away, “don’t pout,” you drag your thumb down his lips, “I’ll kiss you plenty after dinner,”

“Promise?” And you drag him to his feet and he’s walking to the bathroom as you’re opening cabinets to take plates out, only for his arms to wrap around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

You chuckle, biting back the shiver that runs up your spine at the warmth of his touch, “what’s that for?”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze with umbra eyes that has you lost in the only inky black sky you craved.

“Of course, Yu,” you murmur before his lips find yours again, and you just wished you could live in this moment, as he parted from your lips only to press another kiss to your cheek, but you supposed you could—

—For now at least.

“She’s what?” Maki stares at Yuta as he rubs the back of his head, her words nearly ringing out in the empty conference room, “she’s spending a bunch of time with her ex and you’re ok with it?”

Yuta has made a mistake — the mistake of being twenty minutes early to this student government meeting only to find Maki here alone, scrolling on her phone. Her eyes flitting up only for her to tilt her head and bark:

“Oi, what is it now?” And Yuta didn’t know if he liked being so seen by her.

Especially now that he was being judged for his decisions — or rather, raked over the coals for them.

Yuta purses his lips, “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I don’t know what to do. She has to work on her project with him — I guess, how could I object?” And how could he? Your omission made sense, you were only trying to protect your reputation— and your ex’s by extension. But it didn’t make it sting any less.

“Doesn’t she have another choice? Couldn’t she work with someone else?” Maki crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, as if she can detect the holes in his lies by pure reflex, “aren’t you worried she’ll go back to him?” And voices every worry almost if she’s ripped it from his mind itself.

“I am, she does have other choices, but I couldn’t be the one to make her choices for her—“

“But you couldn’t tell her how you felt about it?” Maki shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this conversation is giving her a headache — or more likely, he’s giving her a headache, “how do you feel?”

Yuta chews his lip, leaning on his arm on the table, “I don’t know, I understand it’s just a project — it’s something for her future — I don’t want to make things more complicated for us,” he mumbles.

“You mean for her—and for your relationship,” Maki crosses her arms, tilting her head, “Yuta, if you can’t be honest with her, what’s the point of this relationship?” And people start to file into the room for the meeting, so she hisses in a whisper, “you need to figure out what you want — and how to tell her how you’re feeling because it’s going to eat you alive or drive her into her ex’s arms — either way, you won’t be in this relationship,”

And on that bleak note, she gets to her feet to corral everyone into their seats, leaving him to simmer in her words. His phone lighting up nearly on cue with a text from you—

Can’t make the meeting this week, babe — Geto rescheduled my meeting with him this week for now, so I’m headed there

A hint of irritation pricks at him — it had to be today, during the only time that they had together at school?

Another message comes through.

I’ll see you at your place after the meeting - love you 💕

He locks his phone, tucking it away in his pocket — as Maki starts the meeting.

It was fine — he would see you at home. It didn’t matter — Geto had only these meetings, Yuta had much more of you. It was fine.

He forced his gaze forward, a gnawing dread in his stomach. Right?

“What do you mean it was expected?”

You were starting to remember the reason why you hated this man so vehemently when you first met him. His nearly smug expression made you want to leap across the desk and strangle him — though you knew the consequences of that action wouldn’t turn out well for you — nor the proximity for that matter, “what I wrote—“

“Is what others have written in papers time and time again,” he cuts you off, and you slump back in your chair, as you flip through the red inked comments he had so thoughtfully ripped apart your first few pages — the precise cuts and slashes enough for red ink to look like blood, “your thesis needs to be a unique take—”

“And now it isn’t unique enough?” you grumble, crossing your arms, as your cheeks burn, “soon you’ll be saying I’m rambling again,”

“No, I was able to rid you of that habit a while ago,” you glare at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “I would be concerned if you started to regress,”

“Well, at least it would only be academically,” the words spit like venom from your mouth without a thought, but the hurt that flickers across his face is one that seemingly has too much thought behind it, “sorry, that was inappropriate,”

“It’s fine,” the hurt is gone from his expression, as unreadable as it always was, “to get back to our discussion, I know you want this paper to be published by journals, and in order to do that, you need to have a perspective that hasn’t been explored before—at least not fully. Your outline reflects that, but your paper is regurgitating ideas that you’ve read,” he’s handing you a list of papers and books, with some noted passages, “read some of these materials, it might help give you some ideas to rework your paper,” and then he adds, “and you knew I’d say this,”

You knit your brow together, “What?”

He leans against his arm propped against the top of his desk, “Why else would you want me to see if you were going in the right direction? You always have an idea what you want to write, of where you want your paper to go — and you never wanted my greenlight for a long time now,”

You hate how he can still see right through you — you hate how easily he can pinpoint your problem without you uttering a helpful word. Even before, it always felt as if he was the only one who saw you, without you having to explain a single thing.

“You’re right,” and he hated how right he was, “I wasn’t sure where I was going,” this thesis had been weighing on your mind day and night, pricking at your nerves each time you stared at the blinking cursor of the document, “I still don’t,”

Suguru murmurs your name softly, his gaze as gentle as it always has been for you, a part of you hoped — only for you, “As I’ve always said, the only reason why I push you is because I know you can do more. This thesis would be outstanding for many scholars, but I know you can do more,” he tilts his head, small smile on his lips, “and I know you still can,”

“What if I can’t?” The question slips out before you can even think it, and he raises an eyebrow.

“There is no ‘what if,’ I know you can do it,” and you bite your lip, “i don’t have any doubts,”

“Not even one?” You reply, an eyebrow quirked.

“Not when it comes to you,” and he said just what you wanted to hear, but you hated it all the more — because how did he know you so well? How did he know you so well and yet not know to talk to you before breaking your heart?

But it didn’t matter now. And you couldn’t trudge up these feelings now, or maybe ever.

“I’ll read these materials and rework it,” and you begin to collect your things all the while, getting to your feet.

“Good,” and you catch sight of his smile in the reflection of your phone, “it’s what you owe yourself.”

And your eyes meet his for a moment, so why couldn’t he give you what he owed you before?

“Thank you, Professor.”

“I’m back,” you call out in Yuta’s apartment, tucking your keys away into your bag, as you slip your shoes off and shrugging off your jacket, but you hear nothing in response, “Yuta?” But not a sound — no quiet voices of the TV, the clatter of dishes and utensils in the kitchen, and no sign of him in the bedroom either.

You check your phone, as you sit on the edge of the bed, creaking under your weight, and you see his text: sorry baby, Maki took the group out for dinner after, you’re free to join us. And the address is sent underneath.

But the text was well over twenty minutes ago, and it would take you longer to get there — which meant dinner would nearly be over. You laid back on his bed on your side, typing a reply.

Sorry Yu, just saw this :(. I’ll come next time. I’ll make something up fast and probably lie down. I’ll see you at home.

You curl up on the bed, placing your phone down with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your nose turned into his sheets, Yuta’s scent flooding your senses, and you could nearly feel his arms around you. Almost.

God, you missed him — especially you two just kept missing each other like this — and it made it all the more important you stayed awake.

Your eyes flutter open, the sweet siren of sleep growing all the more tempting, a late lunch sitting like stones in your stomach and the need for the sandman’s relief growing headier.

And before you knew it, your legs were tucked under the comforter and your eyes succumbed to their own weight.

Your soft breaths filled the silence of the apartment, and even as Yuta came in an hour or so later, only to find you sprawled out messily in his bed, phone still in your hand, did he chuckle. His hands are gentle as he guides you into a normal position for sleep that wouldn’t fuck over your back, putting your phone on charge, and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And as he leaves the room to shower, not hearing the quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips.

“You have to try a little,” you’re nearly waving your ice cream cone in front of Yuta’s face, soft serve dripping onto the pavement, and the soft pink swirl threatening to topple over in front of your eyes, but the risk of losing your beloved ice cream was not as important as advocating for it, “c’mon it’s so good—”

“Baby, the ice cream is supposed to be your treat for all the progress you’ve made on your thesis, not a taste test, and I have my own flavor—” but as the ice cream hovers in front of his face, Yuta tastes it — the subtle sakura flavor lingering on his tongue, “it’s good,” he concedes, “but not as good as my matcha,”

It had been a lot to tear you away from your work — it had been weeks in the making of trying to get you to take a break that wasn’t you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop and notes strewn about or a mindless TV break. And the times you both were supposed to have together often ended with one of you being busy or falling asleep. He barely remembered the last time the two of you had spent together that didn’t involve takeout or the couch.

You pout, “Sakura is so much better,” you grumble, licking at your ice cream, trying to stem the excess melting off the sides of your waffle cone, and he chuckles, as a little of your ice cream sticks to your nose.

“More for you then right?” he’s pulling a tissue out to wipe your nose and lips before kissing them, “Mm, it’s sweeter on your lips,” and he knows your cheeks are burning as you avert your eyes, biting your lip.

“You’re the worst,” and he laughs, as he wraps his arm around your middle, “but I’ll say you’re right about today. This date was definitely needed,” you lean into his touch, still working on your ice cream, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not just you that’s busy—”

“I know, but it’s mostly been me,” your eyes find his, and he wavers under your glance, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, and I promise, it’s only going to last a little longer, once I’m done with my thesis I’m all yours,”

And it’s hard for him to believe that — but he tries, because he knows you are.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m just glad we got to do this today, I just feel like we keep missing each other, and it just…it’s been bothering me,”

And you kiss his jaw, before softly smiling, “You’re not alone,” and his lips find yours again, and again, ice cream starting to run down his fingers and palm, but he could care less about anything else but you at this moment, “You’re gonna make me drop my ice cream,”

“I’ll buy you another,” and you laugh, kissing him this time, and he melts just like the ice cream into your grasp, your arms wrapped around him tight, “now who’s making our ice cream melt?”

“You said you’d buy me another anyway,” you nuzzle his neck, “plus I have to leave space to eat you up later,” and you giggle as his cheeks burn, “you blush so easily still, thought you would be used to my teasing by now,”

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, still feels like a dream,” you pinch his cheek in reply, a smirk on your lips, as you kiss the skin that you pinched.

“Now, it’s not a dream, is it?” And right as your lips were about to meet his again—

RING. RING. RING.

Your brow furrows as you ignore it at first, before a sigh catches in your throat, “hold on—“ you check your messages, your brow furrowing, “fuck,” you swear under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” And you’re tossing your ice cream in a nearby trash can, wiping your hand with one of the tissues the ice cream place had handed you, before texting back.

“Geto wants to meet today about my thesis. Apparently some departmental meetings got pushed around, and today is the only day he can meet in person—“

“Do you have to—“ and you’re shaking your head in exasperation, burying your face in your hands.

“I have no choice. It’s the only time until a week and half from now, and I can’t wait to get this feedback, otherwise it will throw off my entire schedule—“

“But this is the only time we can meet,” he cuts you off, voice catching on the words, as his tongue is caught between holding it and wagging it, “I miss you, baby, we haven’t seen each other in weeks because of our schedules, because of your thesis—“ because of him, “when will our relationship take priority? When will I be important enough to matter?”

“Yuta,” your voice breaks, “of course you matter to me—“ and your phone vibrates again, cutting you off, and he takes a beat and a breath. He swallows thickly, this wasn’t the right time for this.

But when would it be?

“Go,” he says, and your eyebrows knit together, lips parting to refuse, “I’m okay, really. We’ll talk when you get home,” but he’s stepping towards you, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “promise, we’re ok. Just go. I’ll call you.”

“You sure?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if he should let you go or stand his ground — but, his fingers cupped your cheek, and kissed your lips — but he was sure that he loved you.

“I’m sure,” and he wanted what was best for you — and he watches you leave after you say your farewells — even if it wasn’t best for him.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this.

Agreed to take this meeting over your date. Agreed to meet in the lecture hall instead of his office. Agreed to have him as your thesis advisor. Agreed to even take a course with him to begin with. You were several steps too close to regret being born, but your real mistake was ever pursuing this man to begin with.

That was your mistake — and now you are reaping what you sow.

Literally.

“Your lecture was compelling — I have so much to learn from you,” you stood outside his lecture hall as students filed out quicker than usual, without the typical quorum that formed after every one of his classes — only to find the reason that a single person commanded his attention, “I didn’t realize how wonderfully interesting philosophy could be as a topic,” her voice already grates on your ears, the elongated syllables of her words nearly enough for you to roll your eyes into the back of your head so far that you were they would get stuck.

“It’s a fine line between interesting and dry, I’m glad I could walk it for you, Mei Mei,” and you could hear the smile in his tone, the saccharine sweetness enough for you to choke on and die of excess sugar, but unfortunately you don’t, so you have to hear the rest of this conversation.

“I’m so glad I took Satoru’s advice to see your lecture, it was definitely eye opening,” and you furrow your brow, “he’s been asking me about you — he told me if I stopped by to have you call him,”

You purse your lips — Satoru?

A sigh in his voice as he speaks “He sent a real messenger this time? I get his texts, I have been really busy with my duties—“

“You know what they say — about all work and no play?” You hear the click of heels against the floor, as she assuredly steps closer, “maybe I can help you with the play—“

You knock on the door then, hand possessed, as you spot the woman with whom the voice belonged — her long silver locks tied into a braid that hung past her shoulders, her dark eyes finding yours and brow arched in curiosity, and wine stained lips curled.

“Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our meeting?” Your voice was laced with irritation you didn't intend to have, “I have a class after this, so unless you’d like to reschedule?”

Suguru’s lips part, only for Mei Mei to speak first, “I’m sorry about that — that’s my fault — old friends you know?” Her head tilts, as if to say, no, I know you don’t know, “and you are one of Suguru’s little students?”

“I’m his former T.A. and he is my thesis advisor,” and his girlfriend, you want to add — ex girlfriend, rather, but the words are as taboo as your feelings are, “I’m sure Professor Geto wouldn’t mind speaking to you after our meeting if you could wait,”

And again Suguru opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off again, “Oh I wouldn’t mind waiting at all, not for him,” she walks past, “I’ll wait for you in your office, Suguru,” and you have to force your expression to be neutral, a knot in your gut, and a fist clenched and hidden around the handle of your bag, “I’ll make myself comfortable,”

The lecture hall door closes behind her, the click of the door brings silence between the two of you, “I apologize if—“

“No, I should be sorry for interrupting,” you cut him off, your throat tied into knots, a distinct dull ache in your chest that surely shouldn’t belong to you — not after all of this, “I should have just rescheduled—“

“No, I’m glad you interrupted,” he says, “we have an appointment and she really is only a—“

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Professor,” and the title seems to cut this time, slicing through his mask, fraying his calm demeanor and leaving behind a deep frown, “it’s your business, not mine,” not anymore.

His mouth opens and close, before he speaks, “Maybe not as a professor,” he says softly, taking a step forward, “but I think I do as your—“

“I’m not ‘your’ anything—“ you interrupt him, taking a step back, “I’m only a student, and your advisee, nothing else, Professor Geto,” you’re turning to leave, “let’s reschedule after all, I have somewhere to be,”

You had to be somewhere that wasn’t here — here with dredged up emotions that had no right belonging to you. Ones that you thought you had moved past, ones that shouldn’t hurt you the way they do now, and ones that you don’t know how to stop from spilling from your lips.

“You’re not just—“

“Did you hear that she would wait for you?” you don’t turn to look back at him, “I wish you could have done the same,” you give him a second, one second longer than he gave you when he broke up with you, to reply, but he says nothing, “I’ll email you a few times to meet next week, just send me any edits you have on my pages.”

The door clicks behind you as you leave the classroom behind, wondering if you had ever rid yourself of your feelings, or if you had simply buried it—

And now, you are starting to unearth it — and your world may crumble underneath you along with it.

There was something wrong with him.

But there always was — when it came to you.

Suguru stared at the email you had sent later that week, opting to skip the in person meeting again for the third week in a row. The semester was over half over — and now the other department head had started in Kyoto, so he had a little more free time — and yet he couldn’t use it to help you, at least not really.

Your thesis was shaping up — you were on the right track now, and he knew your paper would need little edits before being submitted for peer review. And when it did, a journal would be lucky to publish it. By that standard, he could take a more hands off approach — but he never wanted to be hands off, not with you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms, fingers trace the curve of your cheek as he’s done countless times before, and press a kiss to those lips that consume his consciousness.

But he couldn’t.

Not when he was the one who had broken your heart, when you had managed to piece it back together, and when you had found happiness with someone else.

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.

Mei Mei was an unforeseen complication — a donor that made some generous investments in the university — trivial with the amount of wealth she possessed, mostly due to Satoru’s convincing. And Satoru was the reason she had decided to sit in on his class — and he was stuck entertaining her, while his best friend was away on his sabbatical. And he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with him while he was away — his apparent revenge after Suguru had avoided his texts.

And your reaction was—not what he expected. He pursed his lips, you were jealous right? That’s what you seemed to imply with your words — as if Mei Mei was a friend he would be interested in. The pot calling the kettle black — when you were the one to move on first. A sigh caught in his throat, not that he had any right to complain. Not when it was his fault.

But when the only person he was truly in love with was in front of him — the pain in your gaze as fresh as it was the day he had broken up with you — it was hard to hold back, especially when he wanted nothing more than to—

And then there was a knock at his door, “it’s me,” your voice came through the wood, his eyes sliding to the time, it was late into the evening, “can I come in?”

“Yes, come in,”

“I apologize, I just had a few questions I wasn’t able to ask over email, and since I was on campus, I thought—“

He shakes his head, your rambles still as endearing as they always were — though you had kicked the habit in your papers, you couldn’t help but ramble in the way you spoke, “No need to explain, what can I help you with?”

You lean back, hands folded in your lap, “Do you remember when we discussed the concept of a happiness pump as a criticism of utilitarianism?”

“Yes, in class, we discussed it — the idea of someone who will do anything to make others happy, even if it makes them miserable,” he tilts his head, as he leans back in his chair, eyes betraying him as he watches your dress ride up ever so slightly as you cross your legs — he forces his gaze to your face, “do you plan on using it in your thesis—“

Your eyes could cut stone with its biting glare, “No, I don’t, I wanted to talk about it in context of why you broke up with me — do you plan on being a happiness pump for the rest of your life? Or is that simply for me?”

His mind moves slowly as his words do, “what—“

“Because it’s only for me, it’s flattering — if it’s what you do for everyone, well, it’s just exhausting,” you scoff, twirling a strand of your hair with your finger, “especially when your idea of what will make others happy is so misled,”

“And how’s that?” He says through gritted teeth.

And you’re rising from your chair, “You think my happiness means to make yourself miserable, when it does nothing more than make me unhappy,” you’re rounding the desk, fingertips dragging over the edge of the surface, “do you want to spend the rest of your life miserable? Do you think that girlfriend of yours will make you happy?”

“She’s not—“ and your heels clicking against the wood cuts him off.

And you’re only drawing closer and closer, and he can’t bring himself to speak — words caught in his throat because he knew anything he uttered would break this spell, and he wanted nothing more than to succumb, “pumped full of unhappiness when it could very well be the opposite—“ and your hand is sliding up his chest, toying with the top buttons of his button-up, lips ghosting his ear as you whisper, “when you know I know exactly how to pump you, don’t I?”

“Sweetheart, please, we can’t—“ and your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, a gasp lodged in his throat, as your hand grazes his tenting bulge, twitching against your thumb as it runs over the clothed tip, “fuck—“

“We could be so happy, like before,” your lips brush against his, and he crumbles under your touch — his resistance crumbles like a statue made to wait, and god, he’s waited so long for this — too long.

His lips find yours in a bruising kiss, the way he’s wanted to since he had watched you leave that day — the way he should have, the way he should have grabbed your hand and stopped you, pulled you into his arms, and never let you go.

And he never would again.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Suguru jolts awake at the sound of his phone, a paper stuck to his face, drool sticky at the corner of his mouth. He tugs the paper away, rubbing his eyes, as his heart slowly retracts from his throat.

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, what the fuck was he doing? Sleeping at his desk again accompanied by wet dreams of you — he thought he had grown from this. But you always sent him right back where he started, his eyes falling to the bulge in his pants. He ignores it, gathering his things and tracing the edge of his desk as he rounded it to leave his office. He took a look over his shoulder at his office that he spent so much time with, he was sure of one thing — he flicked off the light — you would be the one to haunt him.

For the rest of his days.

“Baby, aren’t you gonna get up now?” Yuta murmurs in your ear, pressing sweet kisses to the skin behind it, fingers resting against the nape of your neck, “you said you have to practice for your thesis presentation,”

You mumbled, burying your face in his neck, as the two of you lie entangled on the couch for your mid afternoon Saturday nap, “a few more minutes,”

The semester had been going by far too quick, days slipping into weeks, and now there was just over a month left in the semester. And soon you’d be graduating — his fingers raked gently through your hair — and he didn’t exactly know what that meant for the two of you.

He still has a year left in his program, and you were going to be moving on — though you weren’t sure exactly where. And he would be here — but what then? Would it be a long distance relationship ? Would you look for opportunities here? Or would it be something else?

He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.

So many of his friends had warned him not to date while in grad school — that it would only end in heartbreak, and the more significant fact that it would always end. Your face nuzzled into his neck, warm breath still warming his skin, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head — and he never wanted to be apart, not from you.

“Baby,” you mumble, “what time is it?” And he can’t help but smile at you, as he reaches for his phone.

“It’s almost four-thirty,” and you groan softly, wrapping your arms around him tighter, “you still have time before you have to go practice don’t you?”

“No, I reserved the classroom until seven, if I don’t go now, I won’t have enough time to practice,” you kiss his neck, “I have to get as much practice in this month before doing my defense,” You untangle your limbs from his and haul yourself to your feet, his body already mourning the absence of your heat. He watches you make your way to the bedroom to change, the door still open as you strip your shirt off.

His gaze admires you as you do, shifting to sitting up, his chin leaning against the back of the couch, “When is your defense again?”

“It’s in three weeks,” you sigh, as you tug a shirt over your head, “I’m so nervous, I have to start practicing now or I’ll drive myself insane,” and you’re stripping off your shorts in exchange for some jeans, “my advisor, many of my professors, students from the department, and maybe some undergrads might attend,” you turn, as you finish changing, catching his admiring gaze with a slight smirk, “and unlike you, they won’t just be interested in staring at me,”

“I think some of them definitely will,” he smiles, and you walk over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “at least, I’ll be, if you let me,”

Your lips curl, “Oh yeah? I think I’ll be distracted if you keep giving me this puppy dog look, baby,” you kiss his nose, “might make me walk over in the middle of the defense and kiss you,”

A soft chuckle leaves his throat, “That would cause a scene, but I could also be some moral support — a friendly face,”

“More than friendly, you’re selling yourself short, Yu,” you kiss him again, and he can taste the lingering salt and butter of the popcorn you two had ate earlier during your afternoon movie turned nap time, “but I think having you there would make me more nervous, so is it okay if we just have dinner to celebrate or cheer me up after?”

His brows knit together, “You don’t want me there?” but Geto gets to be there? The unspoken feelings he can’t find in him to voice, the words lodged in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs if only to free themselves from his anxious heart to spill from his lips — but they don’t.

“I do, Yu, of course, but I think having you there will just make me more nervous, I’ll just keep looking at you instead of addressing the whole audience, and…” you bite your lip, “with Professor Geto already having to be there, I think I would spend the whole time worrying about the two of you together than about my defense,”

And his heart sinks — your ex gets to be there, but he doesn’t? At one of your most important moments? He knows logically the only reason you ask because you can’t ask Geto — but it doesn’t hurt any less. Does he always have to be the nice one? The mature one? Couldn’t he argue with you?

No, but he could ask.

“Do you think I’ll make a scene or that he’ll—“ and you’re shaking your head, your fingers cupping his cheek.

“Of course not. I know you would do nothing but support me, but still forcing you two of be in the room together,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “even if you say it’s okay, I know it’s still hard,” his lips part, but you add, “and it would be awkward for me too. And I can’t do anything about Geto, but I can ask you,”

You could always ask him. He would do anything for you — but did his feelings matter as much to you?

“Of course, I understand,” your lips curl, and you’re pulling him into a hug, you rake your fingers through his hair.

“Are you sure?” You murmur, pressing your forehead to his, “you can tell me if you’re not okay with it,”

He could tell you that he’s not — he could tell you that it’s important for him to come, for everyone to see that he was important to you, for him to see that he was important. But it wasn’t about him. This was your defense, shouldn’t you have a right to have who you want there?

Even if it wasn’t him.

“It’s fine baby, I just want to support you,” he kisses your lips, “but I’ll plan something special for after you pass your defense — because I know you will,”

You kiss him again, softer and fuller this time, as your fingers run down his cheek, “You don’t have to plan anything — I just want you, and maybe some food,” and he chuckles, as you place butterfly kisses all over his face, “I love you,”

And he knew you did — you loved him — and that was enough, right?

“I love you too,” and you’re pulling away, as you pull on your shoes and grab your bag.

“I’ll be home by eight, should I grab dinner?” and he leans back on the couch, nodding, “I’ll see you when I get home okay?”

And he was the one you always came home to — the one you wanted to come home to — and that was enough.

“See you soon, baby.”

For now.

You enter the lecture hall, the door closing behind you with a click that rings in the silence.

Of course.

Of course you ended up with the lecture hall you had with Suguru’s class. You round the podium at the bottom, and give a terse chuckle, how had it been so long but so little time? How many days had you watched him lecture here — only to end up falling for him after? Even despite how much you hated him — it was so easy.

And still so hard.

You set up your phone to record yourself, if only so you could fine tune your presentation, and see any spots that you struggle. You prop it up, making sure it’s framed correctly on the desk directly in front of you. You run through your presentation once, noting spots for improvements or thoughts for potential questions people could pose during your defense.

You flipped through a few pages of your notes — wondering how this semester had flown by.

The rest of your thesis was completed over email — brief email exchanges and your thoughts exchanged through notes scrawled on the pages he scanned to you. It was better this way — you didn’t have to see him. You didn’t have to see the smile on his lips that you didn’t put there, a stray lipstick mark on his collar that you didn’t stain, or the happiness in his voice that you didn’t cause.

No, you didn’t need to see that.

But you didn’t know why.

Why did the idea of him moving on irk you when you had already moved on? You weren’t vindictive — your fingers drumming against the podium — you wanted him to be happy, to find someone who made him happy — maybe in all the ways you couldn’t. But the stubborn thought remained — the same one that kept you up crying every night after he broke your heart and haunted you even in your happiest of nights — that he could have had it all with you — but he didn’t. And now here you both were, fake smiles plastered in front of each other whenever your paths crossed, as if those lips hadn’t murmured ‘I love you’ before in the quiet of the night.

But why did it matter? You were happy with Yuta, you had moved on, and yet — when you saw Suguru with her, it felt as if the stitches holding your heart together had come undone, and you were back — right where you started.

But it didn’t matter. Either way the thesis was complete, and now all that was left in front of you was the defense, then you would be done — with this project, with your degree, and with Suguru.

But would you ever be done with him?

There was a knock at the door, and you turn only to find Suguru leaning against the frame, “Sorry to interrupt,”

Apparently you would never be.

Your shock lasts a moment, before your eyes flicker back to your stack of papers, “Do you need something?” The question comes more bitingly than you intended, but you don’t bother to gauge his reaction, focusing on mindlessly rifling through your presentation.

“I forgot my notes for tomorrow’s class,” he says, quiet steps ringing in the silence of the lecture hall, “didn’t mean to interrupt,” and you’re gathering your notes, catching a glimpse before you step back from the podium, “are you practicing for your defense?”

“I am,” your answer is as terse as your emails, eyes fixed anywhere but where Suguru stood, as he pulled his file from one of the shelves inside the podium.

“Do you need any help?” He asks, and you almost want to ask: ‘haven’t you helped me enough?’ But you don’t, only shaking your head in reply. The silence drags on for far too long, “can we talk?”

Your muscles tense, a bow drawn taut for an argument, but you would draw blood first, “What is there to talk about, Professor—“

His calm facade cracks, irritation seeping in like poison through the fractures,“You don’t need to call me that—“

“I do,” you cut him off, “because that’s what you are. My professor. Nothing more,” and it’s a line in the sand you’ve drawn since you’ve met again, one he hasn’t dared to toe, much less cross, until now.

His voice is broken, “We were so much more,” yes, you both were. He was everything to you as you were to him — but that was before. And this was now.

“Operative words are key, Professor — ‘were’ is past tense,”

“But we’re here now, aren’t we? How long are we going to avoid discussing this?”

You scoff, “am I the one who avoided it? Do I have to discuss it now on your terms — when you didn’t even give me a chance to make my own decisions before?” Your fingers curl into fists, “you broke me, you broke me and now you come back wanting to talk as if you didn’t do the breaking to begin with? You don’t get to come back when I’m fixed,” the bottled emotions burst at the seams of its lid, the contents more vile than when they were placed inside, resentment fermented into rage.

“I know,” he says softly, “I’m not trying to come back, not if that’s what you don’t want. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the best for you—“

“Because you know better than I do?” You give a bitter chuckle, “do you know infantilizing it is to have someone make your decisions for you? I know what I wanted, Suguru, and I would have chosen you, every time—“

“That was the problem,” he cuts you off, “I wanted you to choose yourself,”

“Do you not understand that choosing you is choosing myself too? Because it would have been a choice for me, for us, for us to be happy,”

And those words seem to sink in the silence, his eyes averting from yours, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“You’re right,” he finally says, “I’m sorry,” his words are quiet, but heavy — a rock sinking slightly into near still waters, “I wanted you to have everything, but I didn’t take into consideration what that meant to you,” he says, “I suppose I didn’t consider what I owe you,” he adds, and you shake your head, a small smile on your lips.

“Shut up,” a chuckle leaves your lips despite yourself, cooling the white hot anger to warm wistfulness, “I wish it could have worked out,” and he nods, a small frown on his lips.

“Me too,”

“But maybe it was for the best,” and his eyes find yours, as you step back to the podium to place your papers down, “it was never going to work between us. It was already too complicated to begin with, and when we finally got together, there was a time limit,” you find his gaze again, unreadable, “maybe it was for the best we moved on,” he doesn’t reply, “I should get back to work,”

He nods, as he turns to leave, casting a glance back over his shoulder, “Let me know if you need help with anything. Practice or otherwise, has the final formatting of your thesis been approved?”

“It hasn’t yet, but I believe I followed the guidelines correctly, so there shouldn’t be an issue,” you say, and he nods, as the door clicks open, as he turns the handle, “thank you again, for everything,” and there’s far too much that can encompass everything that he did even in that word, but you meant it all the same. Everything he did had led you to this moment, and you would never be ungrateful for the impact he had.

“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, anytime,” his eyes find yours, lips curled in a wanting smile that wishes to say more, “even when I actually do move on.”

And he’s gone in a moment, the door shutting behind him, as your gaze is fixed on the place he just stood — lips parted.

What?

“Professor,” you stop him, fingers reaching for him, even as you promised you wouldn’t — wouldn’t put yourself here again, wouldn’t find yourself falling into his grasp again, but here you were again — you never learned your lesson. But you wondered if that made you a bad student or him a bad professor, “what do you mean?”

He’s turning only for your hand to grasp onto the sleeve of his jacket, your name leaving his lips but you cut him off.

The question wavers on your lips, “Are you not with—“

“No, I’m not. She’s just a friend, like I said,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I know it’s ironic for me to be the one to break up with you, and not have moved on, but, I haven’t,” his fingers brush against your own holding his jacket, before slowly intertwining, “I don’t know if I ever will,”

“Well, some philosophers believe in endurantism — the past is dead, and we live here and now — we can’t do anything about what happened then — we’re whole right now, and not defined by what happened then, or what happens in the future,” your fingers squeeze his, “if we let this go, we could just exist now — the past erased and the future unclear — but we’re no less whole, are we?” your fingers slowly let go of his — but his don’t. He only clings to your fingers still, stubbornly laced.

“Perhaps you aren’t,” and he’s gently tugging you closer, you don’t find yourself resisting, but instead leaning into his touch, “but I always find myself clinging to my past — when you’re contained within it,” he lifts your hand to his lips, “what future do I have without you?” He presses a soft kiss that steals your logic, “and what present is worth being in that I don’t get to spend at your side?”

“Suguru—“ and he sighs, as draws closer to you, breath warming your lips.

“Been so long since I’ve heard you say my name,” his lips ghost your jaw, barely not brushing against it, “my name doesn’t sound the same unless it’s leaving your lips,”

“We shouldn’t,” but even so, the back of his hand lightly drags against your why shouldn’t you? Not when it felt so good, not when it felt this right, and your lips graze his, “Suguru,” you’re murmuring, the faint lingering taste of coffee on his lips, “fuck—“

RING. RING. RING.

Your eyes flutter open to find yourself in bed alone, your hand reaching beside you only to find more of your blanket and more pillows beside you, as it dawns on you.

A dream. Of course. A sigh stuck in your throat — no, you had watched him leave that night without another word, even though you had so many to say, but none at all. And even now, you didn’t know what to say — to Suguru, to yourself, or to Yuta.

So you said nothing. And instead, you’re left with an aching in your chest as you grab your phone to find a text from Yuta—

Had to go in early today— I’ll see you for dinner, baby

You lock your screen and place your phone on the nightstand, before turning back around to bury yourself in bed — as if staying in bed would bury your feelings along with yourself—

Because that’s not whose text you wanted to see.

“You’re home,” Yuta says when he walks through the door to find you lying on the couch and scrolling on your phone.

“No ‘hi you’re home?’” And Yuta snorts, as he strips off his clothes, and walks in to place a kiss on your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drawing a giggle from your lips, “I missed you too,”

“I thought you were going to practice today. Your defense is the day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d get to see you out of a classroom until tomorrow evening when it was done,” you run your fingers through his dark locks, “thought I’d have to pry you away from your notecards,”

“Ha, ha,” you kiss his cheek, brushing your nose against it, “I thought it would be good to take a break tomorrow, and I’m just exhausted after all the practice I did tonight,” you sigh, and he’s on the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your middle, “this seems like a much better use of my time,” you settle into his arms, “how was your day?”

Yuta shrugs, kissing your shoulder, “Better now,” and you chuckle, rumbling against his skin, sending a shiver up his spine as you lean over, his cheeks a pretty flush that only makes your lips curl, “it’s been too long since we got time like this. I don’t even know where to start,” he nuzzled the side of your face.

You turn your head to kiss him fully, lips sliding against his, voice a quiet murmur, “then let’s make our time count,” your sweet kiss grows deeper, your tongue at the seam of his lips that he parts for you. You swallow his moan with a smirk on your lips, your body moving against his slowly, his tenting erection catching on your clit through the far too thin material of your shorts.

“Fuck,” you murmur, as you slowly begin to grind on his bulge, the delicious friction too much for him as well, head lolling back against the couch, “Yu, s’good,”

“Mm,” Yuta parts from your lips, panting as your lips press eager kisses down his neck, a desperation he hadn’t sensed before from you, “baby, slow down,” and you almost don’t seem to hear him, as your fingers find their way between your bodies to touch him through his joggers, “ngh, you don’t need to—“

But you seemingly do, as your thumb flicks against the tip, a soft hiss escapes his lips, “like that, pretty boy?” You’re murmuring in his ear, “gonna make you feel so good, because you’re s’good f’me,”

And you’re slipping his joggers and boxers down to free his cock, stroking him from base to tip, lovely beads of precum dripping down his length and your knuckles.

“Fuck,” he’s covering his face with his hand, his fingers grasping at your hips, before eager fingers slide between your thighs and underneath your underwear, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “wanna make you feel good too, baby,” as his fingers circle your dripping entrance teasingly, a smirk on his lips, as he sinks one then two fingers in knuckle deep—

“Yu—“ your hand stills for a moment as his fingers work their way against your drenched insides, “fuck—“ and you’re melting into his arms — and maybe this was just what you both needed.

“This was so nice,” you mumble against his chest later, pressing soft kisses against his skin as the two of you laid entangled in the afterglow, “it’s been too long,”

He hums, “It was perfect,” his fingers skim down your cheek, “you know we could have this every day,” and you chuckle, the corner of your lips curled mischievously.

“Do you have the stamina for that?” you tease, painting a heated flush across his cheeks, as he rolls his eyes.

“I mean, we could go to sleep like this every night, and wake up together every morning if we moved in together,” and you blink at him, his nervousness overcoming him as he begins to backpedal, “w-we don’t have to! I just thought I’m ready for the next step with you. And I want to—“

You cut him off with a soft kiss, pausing his worries and anxiety in the syrupy sweetness of your kiss, before you pull away, “I think I need some time to think about it,”

And he nods, “take all the time you need, baby,” pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a thought still niggles into the forefront of his mind that he can’t help but dwell on—

Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?

It always seemed that you were ready when it came to him. Ready to be with him, no matter what the consequence, willing to make it work — but with him, it felt as if he was always the one chasing, and you were reluctantly within his grasp.

As you drew closer into his arms as the two of you settled down to sleep, his fingers running softly through your hair, he wondered how long it would be until he felt as if he wasn’t the one desperately holding onto you, even as you seemingly always slipped away.

Even as he held you against his chest, heartbeat under where your head laid. He knew you were the one who had his heart.

He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was always like this. No matter how well prepared you felt, something always managed to go wrong at the last minute. It was always when you were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have a rude awakening—

And this time it came in the form of an email rejecting your thesis formatting as incorrect. An email that came in that morning, but you had slept through, choosing to sleep in past noon after last night. And when your eyes fluttered open, Yuta was gone already for the day, you rolled over to check your email when you saw it.

Fuck.

You barely had time to text Yuta what had happened before rushing to the library to seek possible help from the librarians — fuck, you would have paid every overdue library charge if necessary. You didn’t want to wait another semester to present again. It would be more time wasted, more time spent working towards something you’re already for, more time spent in this place that you didn’t want to linger in any longer.

How had you managed to fuck it up so bad? Now every one of your citations and in text citations would need to be redone, along with reformatting by 5:00 PM today. And it was already 2:00 PM.

But maybe you were going to have to, as you rushed to pull the library door open, only to find it was closed this weekend due to scheduled maintenance.

Double fuck.

Your eyes burned with tears that you didn’t want to shed right now. You had no time to cry. You had no time to panic. But it was all you wanted to do — just crawl into bed and cry.

You were turning back around to leave, when you nearly ran into—

He steadies you, his fingers brushing your shoulders, as his lips part to greet you, but his brow furrows when he sees your expression, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And that wasn’t the right question to ask.

Tears slip from your eyes before words can, as Suguru blinks, concern flooding his face, as his hand finds yours and he takes you to his office nearby. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down (several tissues later) and you finally explained to him what happened.

His hand never leaves yours.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste another semester here, I can’t do that. I want to graduate—“

“Listen, slow down for a second, ok?” His voice is soft, soothing your anxiety like a balm, even as your nerves flare as your eyes flicker to the time again, “There’s time to fix this and go get it resubmitted before 5:00 PM. But, even if you do have to do another semester, what’s so bad about that?”

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, “I can’t waste time like that. I already said I was graduating. If I have to stay another semester,” more tears trail down your cheeks, your nails digging into your knees, “how could I face anyone after how hard I worked?”

Suguru whispers your name, his fingers brushing against your cheek, “what’s another semester? Nothing will change. No one will view you any differently. But the more important thing is how you view yourself — and you know how hard you worked. You’ll be fine,”

You’re wiping your tears, sniffling, unable to meet his gaze, “How do you have so much faith in me?”

He gives a brief chuckle, “It’s you — how could I not?” And your eyes finally lift to meet his, as his thumb rubs lightly back and forth across your cheek, before he clears his throat, “we have time to get it resubmitted,”

“‘We?’” and he stands up to grab a copy of your thesis and the error notes you had shown him.

“Well I can’t have you do it, otherwise you’ll end up submitting it late,” and you huff, a watery chuckle leaving your throat, “come on.”

“Suguru?” You call softly, as he turns, blinking at the sound of his name, “thank you.”

“Of course.” and he smiles that damnable smile that made you fall for him — your heart squeezing and thudding against its bony cage, an aching that left you longing — a glance at your phone with Yuta’s notification that sent that longing sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach.

No. It wasn’t that.

It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.

“I’m sorry,”

It had been quiet for sometime as the two of you made edits — him on the actual physical copy, while you edited the digital. The quiet scrape of his pen against paper and the clack of your keys are the only sound in his office. The very same one that the two of you had built your relationship from, and now here you were again. Except there was no banter, no smiles shared, nor even a knowing glance exchanged.

There was only silence.

Until you spoke first.

It was a silence you weren’t accustomed to — a layer of awkwardness that had settled between the two of you as if to bandage the honesty that had shredded the false student-professor only relationship you had superimposed on top of the two of you.

Only for you to claw your way out — and claw him open as well.

But no bandage can seal a gaping wound for long, and there was only one way to deal with a bandage effectively, by ripping it off.

His eyes draw up slowly from the pages in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose so precariously that you wanted to push them back, “You have nothing to be sorry for — and you know it’s better to thank than apologize — I’m always here to help,”

But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.

“I meant for the other day,” you say softly, guilt was crawling at your throat.

His gaze grows heavy, “There’s nothing to apologize for that either. You were right,” he adds, “I made decisions for us, when it should have been a discussion — especially when I said it was for you—“

“I wasn’t sorry I said it,” you gently cut him off, fingers knitted together in your lap, “but I’m sorry for where and how I said it. It wasn’t the time or place for that.”

“It’s really ok,” he tells you, a glance at his face telling you that it really was, “I would have yelled at myself far sooner, and nothing you said wasn’t true,” his hand tugs at his tie, loosening it, his fingers wrapped around the fabric, “I wish I did it differently,”

You shouldn’t ask the question but it falls from your lips before you can stop it, “What would you have done differently?”

And he gives a smile worthy of melancholy’s grasp, “I would have kept my promise to you,” and you know which one he means without him needing to say, “I would never have left you, if I hadn’t been too busy being a happiness pump,” and those words stir warm coals in a fire you thought was long put out — but somehow burns still, a flicker of a promise for a spark.

One you couldn’t stoke.

“Well, you make an excellent one,” and he scoffs, “no really, I’ve never seen someone so unhappy trying to make someone else happy before,”

“I wouldn’t say, ‘so unhappy—’” his pout is far too cute for your own good.

“Can really tell your life fell apart without me,” you say completely teasingly, as your lips curl, only to find his eyes on you still, “what?”

He only shakes his head, “only regretting not giving you lower than a 99 on your final paper,” and you gape at him as he bites back a chuckle, “I am the department head, maybe I could—“

“You mess with my grades—“ and your phone goes off — it’s Yuta. A text asking if everything was ok, before his face lights up your phone screen, and you’re not quick enough to avoid the awkward moment where Suguru sees it, “sorry I—“

“Go take it. I have plenty to get through,”

“But—“ but he’s already back to reviewing your citations as if nothing had happened as you pick up the call, screech of your chair as you get up to take the call, “hey, yeah I can talk—“ and the door is closing behind you as you step outside.

You don’t see the way he leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face to rest at his lips, “What am I doing?”

And he really didn’t know — as always, when it came to you.

“You’ll do amazing,” Yuta pressed another kiss to your lips, as you did the final adjustments to your outfit for the defense, “I can’t wait to celebrate with you,”

“I know, I can’t wait for it to be over,” you sigh, pulling him into your arms, your chin perched on his shoulder, “you still haven’t told me what we’re doing,”

He chuckles, his fingers cupping your cheek, “I told you it’s a surprise, so telling you would defeat the purpose,” you turn away to look at yourself again, “you look perfect,”

“You’re just saying that because you’re too nice,” you grumble and he laughs, as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I’m sorry about not having you there,”

And he feels a twinge in his chest, he had spent the last few days not trying to think about that. It wasn’t important that he was there — it was important that you’d be coming home to him. That’s what mattered — or that’s what he kept telling himself.

“It’s okay,” he intertwined his fingers with yours, and squeezed your hand, “I’ll be here after, waiting for your good news. Because I know it will be,” and his arms pulled you against him, and he can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t want to let go.

Even if you were ready to go.

You barely remembered what you said.

You remembered how your stomach turned and twisted in knots you didn’t know were physically possible as you made your way to the building where your defense was being held. Your fingers kept twiddling with your phone, checking the location and date listed in your email a million times to ensure you hadn’t missed your defense already or that you didn’t imagine your citations were accepted. You were sure your clothes would wrinkle from the sheer anxiety cladding through your veins, the vibration of nerves enough to beat creases into your freshly pressed clothes.

And you remembered seeing Suguru right when you walked in. He stood behind the table with the other members of the committee, chatting — and objectively, you hated how unfairly pretty he was. His long, inky hair tucked into a neat bun today, choosing to wear a crisp white button down, opting for no tie, but a off white sweater vest and black suit jacket over his shoulders, and lips curled in a small smile that only grows warmer when he catches sight of you from the corner of his eye. And it must be nerves, the way your heart flutters within your chest and the way that heat clings to your cheeks — nothing more.

Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.

You remembered how people filled into the classroom that you were defending your thesis in, as you shuffled around the front, setting up your presentation and notes for talking points. You spotted Maki, Panda, and Inumaki walk in, undoubtedly Yuta’s doing, along with a few of your other friends from the program. Your hands shook ever so slightly, even as you wrung them — a nervous habit you had picked up before large presentations or important milestones.

And then as people took their seats and it was 4:00 PM, it was time for your defense. You took a breath for a second — and your gaze finds not your friends, but Suguru’s. He offers you a smile, a look that tells you that he believes in you — always more than you ever had.

So you begin.

You don’t remember what you said — but you remember speaking as you did a million times before in practice. You remember making an adlib or two that draws a few chuckles from your audience. But what you mostly remember is the few glances you stole from Suguru who listened intently, a mouthed encouragement when you took a pause.

And soon you were answering questions after concluding the main part of your presentation. You are fielding them from professors and students alike, until there was only time left for one more. There was silence for several moments — it felt like hours, the committee conferring and speaking amongst themselves.

“I think I can take one last question,” and your eyes darted over the group, finding no hands, until one slowly went up — one you were familiar with, “Professor Geto?”

Of course he would have a question — no less, the last one.

“I just had one comment about your thesis, not a question,” and with how he had poked and prodded at the fire of your work from the moment you met him — the way he pushed you head first into the flames, if only to temper the best version of your work, and of yourself. And even though you had burned yourself one too many times, you couldn’t help but reach for it again and again, “after conferring with the committee, congratulations, you passed your defense.”

The audience claps and congratulates you, a sea of shaking hands and kind words while you recover from the defense. But as the crowd disperses, you find Suguru walking towards you.

A silence settles over the two of you for a moment — a want to speak lingering between you two, but no words said. Why was it always when you had so much to say you found none of the thoughts you wanted to express? There wasn’t enough time — but they would never be.

But he breaks it first.

“Congratulations on your defense. You did wonderfully,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, as you bite your lip, cheeks burning.

“No remark about me being on time? Or any little criticisms? I’m shocked. You’ve lost your edge, Professor,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he replies, his hand slipping out from his pocket only to be placed gently on your shoulder, “but right now, I just want you to know I’m proud of your determination and grit, but mostly, I’m proud of you,”

His name almost slips from your lips as your mouth opens and closes, words stuck in your throat, “Thank you. It means so much,” especially from you. But you can’t say that, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,”

“You don’t owe me anything,” and you chuckle, gaze finding his own, just as it always did.

“Don’t I? I think I owe you a drink, I never did buy you one after all — purely for networking purposes,” you add, “and a thank you for saving my ass on these citations,”

And he’s shaking his head, “All I did is what you what have done for anyone else,”

“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.

“For a student? Maybe. For you? Always,” and you bite your lip, gaze falling, “what is it?

“Why?” ‘Why for me?’ was the question you wanted to ask but you couldn’t push the words past your lips even as they rested on your tongue.

But he knew the words.

“You know the reasons,” he says softly, “I know you have nothing but amazing things ahead, and I’d do anything to see you reach your goals,”

And he would. He did.

“I can agree with that,” a hand clasps your shoulder, Yaga gives a small smile, “good job,”

“Professor Yaga, oh my god,” you grin, resisting the urge to hug him, “how are you? Are you feeling better?”

“I’m well enough. Treatment has been honestly shit, but my son is doing a good enough job looking after me,” Yaga rubs the back of his head, “that and balancing classes hasn’t been easy for the kid.”

“Your son goes here?” Professor Yaga points at a familiar cluster of three, “Panda?” You didn’t really see a family resemblance but you supposed you didn’t have to.

He nods, “but I’m not here to talk about him,” he holds his hand out to you, “I’m very proud of you. I know you have a bright future ahead. I apologize I couldn’t help—“

“You did too much. Thank you Professor Yaga,” and then others are calling for you, “if you both will excuse me,”

“Of course, I need to speak to Suguru so it’s just as well,” and your attention is pulled, but the corner of your eye still watches him, watches him leave the leave — leaving you behind here. Just as it should be, your gaze sliding back, as your fingers rested against your chest.

So why did it hurt so much?

Yuta was late — it seems he always was, when it came to you.

Even so, this time it was somewhat purposely, but he still had tried to be on time. He wanted to at least hear the very end of your defense, if not in sight, then outside the classroom. But he had run late, trying to straighten out reservations he made at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for months. He had finally convinced them to bring out a cake as if to celebrate your birthday, but for your thesis. It was silly, as Yuta half walked half sprinted to the room of your defense, only to find it was over.

The doors to the lecture hall had been opened after your defense finished, some people filing out, while others lingered to speak to you or others. Yuta held the bouquet of flowers behind him, scanning the group for you — and his eyes fell on you — with Geto.

You were both off to the side, speaking alone, his hand clasped on your shoulder, before slipping off. And it was clear from the way he looked at you — that he felt the same for you as he always did. And you—

You looked the same, as you always did, when it came to Geto.

Yuta’s fingers squeeze at the base of the flowers, plastic crinkling under his grasp. He hadn’t asked why you had stopped meeting with him for your thesis — almost a relief to have your correspondence all over email, and not to face dealing with the weekly meetings. He hadn’t asked, but he could assume some sort of argument happened, a discussion, a confession maybe — something you hadn’t broached with him. And a part of him really didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to have the boat rocked on him — but—

As he watched you become pulled away when another professor joined your conversation, and Geto was pulled away out of the room by that same professor — Yuta saw your eyes follow Geto’s back. The two walk past Yuta without notice, engrossed in their conversation, and Yuta catches a few snippets of it before they’re out the door.

And he turned back to you — he knew he may have to be the one to rock it. Because the ship had already begun taking in water — and it was either he grasped onto the side with white knuckles and went down with it, or he let it go, letting it fall into the wreckage. He glanced away from you, starting to walk off towards the exit — because maybe this ship wasn’t made to sail, but to sink.

And he couldn’t let himself drown — even for you.

You checked your phone again as you left — no phone calls, not even a text back. You bit your lip as you made your way back to the apartment. You had already called him three times, but your anxiety was getting the better of you. He had told you he would meet you after the defense, but there wasn’t any sign of him.

You opened the door to your place, keys jingling as head inside to find him sitting on the couch. You put your things down, as you head to the living room.

“Yu? Are you okay? You weren’t picking up—“ and you see a bag of his things packed, “Yuta?”

“Sorry I made you worry, baby, I just thought,” he sighs, unable to meet your gaze as he looks in front of him, “I thought I could wait, but I can’t,”

“Yuta, what? What’s—“

Your name leaves his lips, cutting you off gently, as he finally looks at you, gaze heavy, “we need to break up.”

You don’t have words.

No, you have one word.

“Why?” You ask, as you take steps forward to sit beside him, as your mind struggles to keep up — your certificate still in your hand, the excitement of being done all but extinguished.

“I’m sorry, but don’t you know why?” He asks softly, and your eyebrows knit together, shaking your head,

“What are you talking about?” And you’re wringing your hands, fingers nearly in knots, a sigh parting your lips as you try to soothe yourself, “Yuta, I know I’ve been busy this semester with my thesis, but it’s done with. And we can go back to—“

“We can’t,” and it was so final — so definitive — and without a way for you to have a choice. Yet again. Were you doomed to repeat this cycle? Again and again. With no change in the outcome. And you don’t know what to say, as you scrub a hand down your face.

“Okay then,” and your name slips from his lips, as you cross your arms.

“You don’t understand—“ and your chuckle is so bitter.

“How can I when you haven’t explained? All you’ve said are cryptic things that I’m supposed to piece together what? What am I supposed to know?” Tears slip down your cheek, forcing your voice to stay steady, the stress of the last few months crashing down around you just as your relationship did, “I know that I haven’t been the best girlfriend. And I’m sorry. I really am,” your voice breaks, “But I tried. I tried to communicate. I tried to spend time with you, even when I didn’t have a minute to myself. You knew I’d be busy. You knew that going in and still—“

His voice is gentle, so gentle that it infuriates you — gentle even when he’s hurting you, “It’s not that—“

“Then what is it?” You snap — you were tired of running in circles — you needed an answer, a tangible reason why.

“Geto,” you blink, as the confession settles over his face, “it wasn’t your schedule. It was who you spent it with,” and you’re staring for a moment, expression crumbling under the weight of the truth.

“Yuta, Yu, no—“ you step towards him, but he only sighs, running a hand through his hair, “it was only for my thesis. Nothing happened between us. I promise,”

“I trust you when you say nothing happened,” but his eyes lift to meet yours, “and in a way nothing has happened, because you still love him,”

“yuta—“

“I know you love me, in some way,” the words leave his lips slowly, cutting you each syllable, but you can’t imagine how deeply and how long he’s been cut by these thoughts already, “but not like you love him—“

“That’s not—“

“You know before we started dating, I talked to Maki about how I feel, and I told her I was afraid that you would never look at me the way you look at him,” and the mended pieces of your heart break apart with new cracks with the way his voice wavers, “but all this time, and still, you haven’t. Even today, when I waited outside of the lecture hall, I saw you both together — and I know,” he breaks off, biting his lip, “I know it was him congratulating you, but the way you looked at him hadn’t changed—“

You’re shaking your head, “Yuta, no, no, it’s just a look. I don’t even know how I look at him, but it doesn’t—“

“I do know how you look. It hasn’t changed,” he’s swallowing, his eyes fall to the floor, “and it’s not just that. Do you see a future with me?”

“Of course—“

“When I brought up moving in, you said you’d think about it, but have you?” you open and close your mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of your clothes, “have you thought about what happens after you graduate? Or what’s next for us?” your silence is answer enough — sinking in for you, as it already did for him — slipping in between your ribs like a well placed dagger — and it had stabbed him all the same too, “you love me, but I don’t think you’re in love with me,”

“Yuta, I do, I do love you—“ and he draws close to you, fingers cupping your cheek.

“But the world doesn’t stop for you when I come near? It doesn’t feel as if I steal your breath when I hold you like this? Does it feel as if you don’t wish to spend a moment without me?”

“Love doesn’t always have to—“

“But it does — to some extent,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you imagined your future with him didn’t you? Didn’t even want to spend a moment apart?” And he gives a terse chuckle, “we have to break up,”

You don’t want it to be true. You want to fight him, argue, convince him he’s wrong, that the explanation he’s pieced before you is falsified — a distorted version of how you felt conflated by misunderstandings.

But you can’t.

“Yuta, I—“ and he shakes his head, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ your eyes burn with tears, “I’m sorry,”

He smiles softly, pulling you into his arms, “I knew we had rushed in, but I didn’t want to wait, because I thought I’d lose my chance,”

“Yu—“ he kisses your cheek, “I do love you, I do,” and he nods, lips curling sadly, before he pulls you into another hug.

“I know. I love you too.”

But it wasn’t enough — and it wasn’t right.

Not for either of you.

You don’t know how much time you spent in bed after that. The semester had closed out, and you had curled up under your sheets — seemingly a new tradition you had of ending a semester with a break up. You wondered if graduating would end it — and if it didn’t, you might have to reconsider going for your Ph.D. — if only to avoid this pain again.

You stick your head up out of your blanket, glancing at the light pooling in from the window — because time went on no matter how you felt, and the sun rose each day, despite it all.

Yuta had grabbed his things and left a while after. You still could feel the brush of his fingers against your skin as he squeezed your hand one last time.

“You’re still my best friend,” you had told him, forcing your voice to stay even, and he chuckles, a smile on his lips.

“You’re still mine too.”

But even so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days — but you couldn’t blame him. You could only blame yourself. It had become so exceedingly clear that he was right. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it. The anger still lingered, but anger was only the remnants of your love for him that still stubbornly clung to life, despite your efforts to move on.

But moving on wasn’t as simple as finding feelings for someone else — not when you were only ever truly in love with one person.

You were still in love with Suguru.

Despite it all — you hadn’t gotten over him, and you weren’t sure you ever would. If months weren’t enough, would years be? Would you ever get rid of the feelings you had for him, wrapped around your limbs, and had snuck into the crevices of your heart. An invasive species that perhaps you would never eradicate.

But you couldn’t go back now. Not after everything that happened. Not

Your phone goes off, lighting up on your bedside table before beginning to ring, your fingers slipping from inside your cocoon of blankets. You grab your phone — Professor Yaga?

“Hello?”

He greets you with your name, “I hope you’re doing well — I just wanted to reach out to congratulate you again on your successful defense,” you smile, sitting up as you do. The two of you make small talk as he discusses his recovery, reporting that he’s doing well.

“Thank you so much Professor Yaga, for everything, really,” and he chuckles.

“Thank you for being so understanding of my situation — it was difficult, but I’m glad Suguru stepped for in me so well, and I’m sure he’ll do well in Kyoto—“

“He’s going back?” the question spills from your lips before you can even hold your tongue, “I didn’t know you were—“

“I’m not returning yet, but even if I do, I don’t think I will be returning as a department head. So I gave Suguru the choice to stay department head here or move to Kyoto,” and he adds, “I did give him the choice to stay here or move back to Kyoto,”

And your throat is dry, “Oh I see. That’s good for him,” a silence settles over the call for a moment, before Yaga speaks.

“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Yaga says, and he’s staying for graduation so if you’d like to thank him in person since I interrupted your conversation, II know on good authority that he’s in his office right now,” and he adds, “it’s not too late if someone were to speak to him now,”

You blink, “Professor Yaga—“

“You’re all but graduated so I’m allowed to say this — I wish you both the best. But I know Suguru has never been happier than when he was with you,” you bite your lip, “so for both of your sakes, you should go talk to him,”

“Thank you, Professor, for everything.” And you hang up without much to do, grabbing your bag and keys before heading out the door.

He was right, fingers squeezing around your phone — it’s what you owed him — and yourself.

Suguru sat back in his office, finally done with his papers for his philosophy class. The sun had long fled the sky, along with most staff and students. The end of the semester had come quick, and with it came a quiet and deserted campus with nothing but his grade book and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in his office to keep him company.

Not that he was craving company.

He loosened his tie, unbuttoning a button or two on his shirt and on his cuffs, and then rolled his sleeves up. He was insane for still insisting on teaching a class amongst the insanity, though he did have another professor step in to co-teach the course. He didn’t know why he had stuck to that sticking point when it was illogical — but, as he gazed down at the stack of final papers strewn in front of him doused in his red ink, he knew it wasn’t a logical reason.

He was rifling through the graded stack, adding the scores to his grade book. This semester has been a mixed bag, a mix of grades — from high to low. Some of the papers were insightful, others were clear that they had only taken this class as a course to blow off. But even of all the high graded essays, not one of the papers compared to yours.

But of course, no one compares to you, and that’s why he needed to leave. He knew that. He wanted you to be happy — even if that didn’t include him. And after this semester, it couldn’t. Being around you was an exercise of torture — Tantalus who had been starving for decades to get a taste of food, only to be hungrier after that morsel. A bite of the apple only makes you want to devour it, core and all.

It was just as Aristotle had said — desire was made of both rational and irrational, and his longing for you is rooted in the rational — because yes, perhaps his body craved you irrationally and carnally, but that was far overshadowed by the need for you after experiencing you for himself. This self made inducement would be the death of him, and Aristotle himself would call him a fool.

But he didn’t need him to — because he was. A fool and a coward, just as you said. He sets down his pen, leaning against his hand, as he looks over at the blank reply email to Yaga with his cursor blinking. It would be for the best if he left for Kyoto again. So you didn’t have to see him again.

And then there was a knock at his office door. He paused, eyes flicking up only to hear your voice through the door, “It’s me,”

He hates the way his breath catches at the sound of you, heart picking up as his eyes flicker to the somewhat late hour and back. No words on his lips except the one thing he can say.

“Come in,”

And you do — you always liked to tease him that he was the one who was unfair when it came to how he looked, but to him, it was you that was unfair. Your hair askew, chest rising and falling quick, clothes a little disheveled and yet, you were always the most gorgeous person he’d met in his life.

You shift in the entryway of the door, squirming seemingly under his gaze, “Is this a bad time?”

Time never was in either of your favor, not ones that she found beguiling, except in a way meant to deceive. But time and time again, he allowed himself to be tricked — if only for a moment with you.

“No, not at all. I just wrapped up grading the final papers,” and you give a soft chuckle, as you close the door behind you, before taking careful steps forward, eyes finding the stack nearly bleeding from his careful cuts and slashes.

“How many red pens did you use up? Fifty?”

“Oh, only forty-nine this time, trying to be more conservative with my usage,” and you scoff, more of a chuckle than a sneer, “plus, I didn’t have a student write several pages over the limit this time—“

You gape at him, and he has to bite back his smile, “It was one page, and you said I could,”

“Bullied into it was more like it,”

“Don’t know of a case where a student could bully a professor into anything,”

“They clearly haven’t had you in their classroom,” and then he adds, a soft smile on his lips, “but I suppose I could see them enjoy being bullied by a student as passionate about the subject — even if my office hours suffered for it,”

“You loved those office hours,” and he wants to say, yes, when you were there — but he can’t. He told himself he wouldn’t cross that line, “and I did too,” you add, and his eyes find yours — but maybe you would cross it instead, “you remember what you said about not being my professor anymore?”

And he did — all those months ago at the end of the first semester you had spent in class together, and he’s nodding, mouth impossibly dry, “Well I’m as good as graduated, so you’re definitely not my professor, not anymore,”

Your name slips from his lips, brow furrowed, a question almost, as if it can’t be what your words implied, but you’re shaking your head, as you pull a folded paper from your bag, unfolding it before sliding it across his desk.

His eyes fall on it, and it’s the note he had written all those months ago — asking you for a drink, and for so much more. He had admired your determination, your wit, your beauty, your intellect, and so many other things he didn’t have space to say —

“Suguru,” and his eyes find yours, and god, why was it so easy to get lost in your heady gaze? “We had said we didn’t want to hurt each other — but I don’t think that’s something that can be avoided. You hurt me,” and he nods, lips parting ready for an apology, “but I’ll probably hurt you — and I probably have already,”

“Sweetheart—“ the pet name falls from his mouth as if it’s second nature, “I—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” and the corner of his eyes burn with tears — is this a dream? Because he swears, it would be the cruelest one so far, “I can’t stop loving you, and I’ve tried to—I’ve tried to move on,”

“Maybe it would be for the best,” but you’re shaking your head, as you’re slowly rounding his desk, and the truth can’t help but fall from his lips, “I don’t deserve you—“

“What did I say about making decisions about us without me?” And he sighs, resistance crumbling as you draw far too close — and he couldn’t bear not to reach out, “you have to take responsibility for your actions, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart—“

“You said you haven’t moved on — is that still true?”

His fingers reach across the chasm he had carved between the two of you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw and the swell of your cheek, just he had wanted to for all these months. And just a taste, a brush of your skin, he’d never let you go again.

“I never could — not from you,” his voice wavers, “every day I missed you — I never wanted to break up with you, I just couldn’t bear to be the reason that you ever hold yourself back from getting something you wanted,” and he gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, “who knew I was the one doing that by leaving? And I’m so sorry, I am so—”

And your forehead pressed against his, his words nearly swallowed with a sob, as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning a trail down his cheeks, that you gently thumb away before cupping his cheeks, “I want to hear something other than an apology,”

His flutter open, lips brushing against your cheek, “I love you, I always have, sweetheart. I never stopped—” his voice breaks, a crack in the dam enough to spill the truth from his lips and tears from his eyes, “and I promise I’ll never break my promises anymore — that’s a contradiction, but—“ and your fingers find purchase on his cheek, consuming the words on his lips with your touch, “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,”

Your lips curl, eyes watery as you kiss away one of his tears, “Is that a proposal?” you tease, your other hand slides back through his black locks, twisting one strand around your finger, “seems a little fast for that when you haven’t even kissed me properly yet,”

He snorts softly, clearing his throat ever so slightly, “If memory serves me, we’ve done a lot more than kiss before,” and he’s daring closer, as you lean down, your legs pressed against the lip of his desk, “nearly in this office,” and he’s slipping up from his desk, his breath stolen from his lungs by the whisper of your perfumed skin, and his logic eroded by the heat of your body against his.

“‘Nearly,’” you repeat with a soft hum, as your lips graze his jaw, “then why don’t we fix that?” your lips find his, a chaste kiss, barely a few seconds when you pull away half a centimeter, and he’s already leaning back in for another and another.

The familiar feel of your lips against yours makes him wonder how he had survived without you for so long — falling for you was as natural as breathing and kissing you was needed as oxygen. But each kiss only sends jolt over jolt up and down his body, and he wonders if he were to ever stop again, perhaps his heart would too.

Because all the time he had spent not with you was time spent living — perhaps breathing and existing. But no, he only felt alive when he was at your side — and in your arms. And especially against your lips. Delights in the way your lips part for him like muscle memory, tongue against yours — in a sloppy, desperate kiss that has every ounce of reason sucked from his mind (and likely into your mouth).

He parts if only for air, a string of spit connecting your lips, that he thumbs away, “If I recall, you had something about me not being very ethical last time we did this,” he remarks, his lips parting before kissing down your jaw, your taste an addiction to his deprived lips — a desert wanderer ready to swallow you whole, “and now here you are,” he’s leaning back, as your hand is splayed back against the wood of his desk, your chest rising and falling, lips kiss bitten red and swollen from his own, “what do you call this?” His finger is toying with the top button of your blouse.

“A student taking after her teacher,” your lips find his pulse, teeth grazing his skin as if to taunt him, to goad him to go further, but, and his fingers slip behind. your thighs and squeeze no goading was needed — he was ready to devour you.

And he’s lifting you onto his desk, papers crumpling underneath and pens flung onto the floor, and a gasp caught in your throat as he pins you against it, before tugging his tie off.

“Looks like I still have plenty to teach you.”

“Sugu, fuck,” your fingers thread through his black locks, undone from his bun hy your own hands, your nails digging into his scalp. How long have you been in this office with him now? Half an hour? Almost an hour? Time had lost all meaning to you when he had kissed his way down your body.

Burning kisses that had stolen your thoughts from your mind and left only him in its wake — how had you lived without him? Your fingers had found their way to the back of his neck, as his lips mapped the peaks and valleys of your neck and collarbone.

“Fuck,” a gasp parts your lips when his teeth teases the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting again and agin, until he’s left pretty love bites gracing your across your skin.

And that sharp tongue of his dragged over the marks left blooming on your skin, as if couldn’t simply get enough of you, and he couldn’t.

“Suguru, please—“ you’re whining already and he barely began, and the all too smug smile against the swell of your breast only told you he thought the same.

“Patience, Princess, so needy f’me, aren’t you?” But he obliged anyway, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

And now your blouse was nearly shrugged off, your bra undone with your pert nipples still sticky with his saliva and breasts covered in small marks from his teeth grazing your skin. And now he had tugged your skirt down and off, leaving you only in your underwear.

“You’re making such a mess on my desk, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, as his large palms slide up your plush thighs and squeeze, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, before he’s parting your thighs, “but it’s such a pretty mess when it’s you,” and you were so fucking pretty with your legs parted like this, panties translucent from your juices leaking from your dripping folds, even glossy against the wood of his desk now. And he would be sure to make a bigger mess soon enough.

“Sugu,” your cheeks burn as he stares, your embarrassment melting into a gasp when his fingers drag against your clothed slit teasingly, up and down, so meticulously again and again, until his fingers are sticky with your pre, “ngh, please—“

Your plea is enough for him to snap, as he’s tugging your underwear away and off, tucking the ruined panties into his pocket with a glint of his amethyst eyes in the low light of his office. Pretty folds in full display for him, with your swollen clit and glistening slit nearly begging for attention, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

And he’s running a finger down your lovely folds, gathering precum on his finger, far too slowly for your liking, as he takes his time to circle your clit, “All this just from a few kisses?” lust pools in his gaze with a flicker of amusement, “so sensitive just for me,” your need for him as plain as the juices that seep from your pussy, walls fluttering and aching for something more than the tip of his finger.

“Suguru, fuck, I can’t,” your toes curl when he finally pities you with a kiss to your needy cunt, nose bumping against your clit teasingly, the friction making your thighs tremble, “please—”

“Never thought I’d hear my quick witted T.A. beg for me like this, but I have dreamt of it,” you glance down at him, lips glossy with your pre, “I have to make up for time lost, time I wasted without you, princess,” and his thumb rubs at your clit, while his lips press sweet kisses to the flesh of your inner thigh, “it’s what I owe you, isn’t it?”

“I—” your sentence lost to a moan as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, tip of his tongue teasingly lingering around your entrance, and your hips buck into his touch, warm palms coming down to pin you in place against his desk.

You can barely stifle your moans, fingers flying up to press a hand over your mouth, as the tongue starts to flick and circle your clit, while a lithe finger teases your tight cunt, “I’m not one for sweets, but you may give me a sweet tooth,” and his lips close around your clit, sucking and licking, making your back arch, your arm behind you shaking as it struggled to keep your balance.

“Fuuuuck, Sugu, I—” you’re panting, head lolling back when he finally sinks a finger into your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your cunt and your barely contained moans filling up the relative silence of his office, “please—” and a second finger joins the first, a smirk on his lips as he kisses your puffy clit again, a groan when he feels the way your walls clench around his fingers, knuckle deep.

“Gonna break my fingers at this rate, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, but even so he’s adding a third finger, the stretch far too delicious as it sends stripes of heat up and down your body and right to your spasming cunt, “what are you going to do when I put my cock inside? Our refresher lesson has barely begun,” and he’s enjoying this too much, and when his arms are hooking around your thighs, carefully lying you back on his desk, your hands slipping from his hair, and instead propping himself up on his elbows.

“Sugu, wh—” and your back arches as he begins to thrust deeper into your cunt, a strangled gasp on your lips that melts into a moan as his lips close around your clit. You can barely make out the obscene noises that leave your lips, as his fingers fuck you open, before he’s sucking hard — once, twice, and then a third time— “I’m—“

You can barely find the words before you’re cumming, walls squeezing and fluttering around his fingers while he fucks you through it, lapping at your juices, his name on your lips again and again, until you finally come down from your high. He pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy, only to bury his face in between your thighs again.

“Fuuuck, Sugu—“ your moans are broken as your body arches into him, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, sucking and licking your release eagerly, seemingly hellbent on tasting every inch of you.

Pretty moans fell from your mouth, muffled as you clasped your hand over your lips, “can’t waste a drop, sweetheart,” he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt, and god, if anyone walked by his office, they would surely hear you both — hear the nasty squelch of your pussy and your barely muffled moans.

How many times did you orgasm from his tongue alone? You had lost track. Each time he would bring you over the edge with the thrust of his tongue or the suck of his lips, and he would eat you out through it, only building to the next and then the next.

“Sugu, please, I’m close, fuck—“ and you can’t even hear your own broken voice, not over the lewd sounds of his mouth sucking at your pussy, the coil tight in your stomach and ready to snap, until another hard suck makes you cum, hard.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching at him desperately as you squirt all over his face, drenching him along with his desk, wood sticky and soaked with your release. He’s lapping at your cunt, thighs twitching from your orgasm, until he’s finally pulling away to glance up at you with dark eyes, his chin and mouth glossy with your cum and his spit. His tongue darts out to clean both, before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand, glazed over gaze half lidded with need.

“S’good for me, Princess,” he’s pressing gentle kisses up your body, “so pliant, and yet you were so mouthy before,” and his lips kiss that mouth of yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, as he presses you further into the desk, his arm slinked around your back. And you’re pulling him just as close, hands grasping at the front of his button-up.

And then you’re pushing him back, forcing him into his chair, as you get to your feet, before sinking to your knees. His breath catches, eyes watching you — your disheveled appearance, hair half mussed, and skin shiny with sweat, “let me show you how mouthy I can be.”

“Imagine someone walked in now, see your pants down for your favorite student,” your tongue trailed up the underside of his clothed cock — and he could nearly cum looking down at you between his thighs, your kiss bitten lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, thumbing at the leaking slit, licking your lips at the sight of the large stain of his precum on his cock, “Sugu, you’re so fucking big, can’t wait to feel this inside,” and his length twitches, a grunt in the back of his throat, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin.

And god, he’s fucking pretty like this. Black locks falling in front of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones with a lovely flush settled over his features

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he’s panting, head nearly lolling back against the headrest of his chair, “gonna tease me after this long?” it’s half joking, half pleading, but you’re only clicking your tongue at him.

“You made me wait much longer, Suguru — made me cry too,” and his gaze softens, lips parted with an apology that fades into a hiss, as you free him from his boxers, erection slapping against his still clothed abs, “but now I’m going to make you cry,” you press a teasing kiss to his weeping tip, flushed red with need, letting his white pearly release paint your lips, “until you’re begging to cum,”

A strangled gasp caught in his throat, tracing the pretty veins and curves like it was made for you, “You’re so pretty, Sugu — all of this is for me?” Your fingers slowly stroking his length, his moaning music to your ears, as your other hand teasing his balls, “gonna cum down my throat already? Can’t cum this soon,” you cooed, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, and yet your fingers squeeze around his base, hips jerking into your touch.

“Princess, stop teasing—“ his protests had fallen on deaf ears, as you bring your pretty lips to his aching tip, only to trace his slit with the tip of his tongue, salty precum disappearing inside your mouth, and fuck, it’s enough for him to nearly cum there and then, “please,”

“Didn’t know you could be so polite, Sugu, when begging for your student to swallow your cock,” and finally you let his cock part past your lips, and his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue swirls around his length. It was already too much for him — so much, just as you were, your tongue tracing and teasing his dick, while your lips sucked along the base.

And you weren’t doing much better, the weight of his cock against your tongue makes your cunt ache for him, and sneaking glances at his fucked out form — muffled moans of your name as he covers his lips with the back of his arm, as his dark gaze watches you sink his cock into your mouth again. Your hand is slipping into your throbbing pussy for some relief, as you bob up and down his length.

But he doesn’t miss it, a groan at the sight of you swallowing his dick whole whole riding your own hand, “Does fucking your mouth feel that good, Princess? Feel that good that you need to touch yourself?” And you’re moaning around his length, vibrations of sending shivers up his spine and a groan of your name from his lips, “So fucking good f’me, Princess — too good for me,” he’s grunting, as you let his tip brush the back of your throat now, making pleasure rip up his body, “sweetheart, please, g’nna fuck your throat if you keep that up,”

And you ease off, letting his cock slap against your tongue as it slips out, “maybe I want you, Sugu,” you’re kissing and licking along his length, “want you to fuck my smart little mouth,”

Fuck.

You’re sliding his cock back in, his hips jerking against you as you let him sink all the way in, tip brushing against your throat again. And fuck, the wet squelch of your fingers inside you breaks him, as he starts to give an experimental thrust, a light one that has you moaning around him. He’s gauging your reaction, only for you to force his length down more, barely not blowing his load there and then, as you look up at him, a smile in your eyes as if you’re daring him.

And he can’t hold back.

He’s fucking your mouth, your tongue massaging up and down his length as he thrusts inside your warm mouth, his nails digging into your locks as he holds you flush to his body. The sight of you on your knees, taking his dick as drool and pre drip down your chin, eyes nearly rolling back with pleasure as you do, making his cock twitch in your mouth.

“That feel that good, Princess? Wanted me to fuck this mouth that bad? I should do it more often if that’s what it takes.” he’s almost drunk off the pleasure, thrusts growing a little rougher as he grows close, “fuck, I’m close, baby, where—“ and your hands are sliding around to his lower back, holding him in place as your answer, “shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me,” and you suck around him as his tip hits the back of your throat again, and that’s it—

He spills, hot cum flooding your mouth and down your throat, as you both moan in unison, large spurts devolving into smaller ones, as he comes down from his high. You don’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of it, as you finally pull away from his cock with a pop, the sight of your ruined lips with strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his dick is enough to have it twitching again.

“Sweetheart, you’re s’good to me,” he’s gently pulling you up into his lap, his fingers running through your hair. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—“ and you’re cutting him off with a soft kiss that steals the words from his mind, your eyes shiny with tears.

“You do, you do because I choose you, because I love you, and I know you’re sorry,” you cup his cheek, before lightly pinching it, “and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill you and I’ll be ethically and morally justified,” and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to your skin, before pulling back to look up at you.

“You have my permission to do that, because if I ever leave my soulmate again — it’s only the consequences of my actions,” and he kisses your forehead, before he presses his to yours, “and I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side,”

You kiss him slowly, wrapping your arms around him, slowly heat building as the head of his cock bumps against the length of your cunt — the sparks grow into flames, threatening to engulf you both. And you would let them if only for one more second of his touch.

“Sugu, please, I need you,” you murmur, breathing in his pants as your noses bump, “need you inside me,” he cups your cheek, meeting in another kiss, before you’re lining yourself up, weeping cock bumping against your needy entrance.

“Are you ready?” You ask, and it’s for more than just this moment, it’s for everything that comes after — for every second that you both get to live together, “our phones are off right?”

He snorts, “I turned it off when you entered my office,” and you laugh, shaking his head, as he places a kiss behind your ear.

“I did the same before I came in,” his fingers cup your cheek, as you lean into his warm palm, “just you and me?” You echo from your first time together, and his lips curl into the softest smile.

“You and me, sweetheart,” and you’re sinking onto him, tip parting your spread folds as your walls swallow him whole, inch by inch, and his fingers grasp at your hips, helping you ease onto his cock, pretty lips parted with a quiet murmur of your name.

And when he finally bottoms out inside you, he’s almost forgotten how good it felt — pleasure ripping up his spine as your hips are pressed flush to the other, “So deep, Sugu, fuck,” your walls are fluttering around him pulling even deeper, clamping down as if he groans, “I’m gonna move,” you manage between pants.

You lift up to the tip before slowly beginning to bounce up and down, your moans filling his ears along with the squeaks and rattling of his computer chair. His eyes flutter open only to watch your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands reaching out to squeeze at the pillowy flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“S’big, fuck, Sugu,” you’re moaning, a mess as you fucked yourself on him, but still not quite deep enough, and he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, making you fall forward holding onto him with a whine as he fucks up into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your needy cunt ring in your ears, the grunts your pussy pulls from his mouth as he drives himself impossibly deep, “ngh, Sugu, fuck, s’good—,” you’re whining, back arching into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders, “please,”

“That’s it, take my cock, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “so good for me. So tight, never going to leave this cunt at this rate, baby—“

And then they hear a door creak open and close nearby, freezing as they do, heart thumping against your ribs, but your wall flutters all the same, “think they’ll see us like this?” He teases, and his cock twitches in your cunt, “spread out and fucked by your former professor’s cock?” And you know he’s only goading you as the footsteps depart, but your walls squeeze at the thought, “want them to see how good you are for me? How well I’ve taught you to take this cock?”

And he begins to fuck into you again, pistoning up into you, drawing more moans from your lips. He had taught you every inch and curve and vein of his dick, but this refresher would make sure you’d never forget.

“Sugu, I’m close, I-“ and his hand is slipping between your bodies to rub at his clit right as his cock hits that spot that has you seeing stars as you cum hard around his cock. He watches the place your bodies meet, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as your walls flutter around him.

He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he twitches inside you, “fuck, sweetheart, where should I—“ and you’re moaning as you manage to meet his thrust to notch him even deeper as he finally cums.

His thick ropes paints your walls, as he rocks against you slowly, forcing his cum deeper and deeper, your name leaving your lips again and again — reverent whispers and promises muttered in your ear, as he finally stills underneath you.

You’re leaning against him, mixed releases surely leaking onto his lap and the chair, both of your quiet pants filling the silence, until he’s breaking it. He kisses your lips again and again, before he stares at you — kiss bruised lips and the pretty sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, “It’s not fair you’re this perfect,” he murmurs, a thumb dragging down your lips, “how would I have ever resisted you?”

“Luckily, the universe did that for us,” and he huffs a chuckle, “and you,” you add in a small whisper, and he frowns, nodding.

“I did and I never will again, I promise, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your burning skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m yours — yours to keep, yours to use, yours to love — you have my heart and my soul,” he’s cupping your cheek when you lift your head, “and I’ll never let go, because you’re the only answer to life I need, if you’ll allow to be yours,”

“You were always mine,” your forehead pressed to his, “that’s never changed, and it never will,”

“You always one up me, don’t you?” And you roll your eyes.

“The student has to surpass the master someday, doesn’t she?” his lips curl.

“Oh you’ve done that a long time ago, Princess,” his lips graze yours again and again, and soon enough you’re shifting on his lap, until the chair buckles under the weight and the seat travels to the bottom of where it’s wheels rested. The two of you are silent a moment, before a giggle escapes your lips, “I think you’ll have to get a new chair,” you murmur, and he’s chuckling, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Why not the chair and the desk?” And you’re blinking before he’s lifting you up, before making you turn, pressing your front flush against the wood of the desk, “and if I’m getting new furniture, I might as well use this to its full capacity, shouldn’t I?” And he’s dragging his erection across your ass, “really make sure it’s broken,”

You gasp, walls fluttering as his tip teased your messy entrance, “don’t you need broken in—“ and he bottoms out in one thrust, as he presses his body against yours, lips pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, before his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh.

And he smirks as he hears you moan under him, as he soothes the blooming hickey with his tongue, “No, I meant broken, sweetheart.”

“Suguru!” You called from his bedroom, as he smoothed his hair out in the bathroom mirror, a glance over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, “can you come help me?”

And how could he refuse? He steps out of the bathroom to only find you struggling with your Hakama. The formal garment hangs uselessly around your front, your brow furrowed and lips pursed.

He suppresses his laugh, forcing his tone to be even.

“Does my incredibly brilliant girlfriend need help with her hood?” Your pout is enough for him to nearly break his promise that he wouldn’t kiss you when your makeup was done, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the offending garment from around your neck, and you cross your arms.

“I can handle reading Hegel’s works — The Phenomenology of Spirit was irritating but doable,” and you scowl at the Hakama in his hand, “but that thing was made to torture,”

He snorts, “Consider it your last trial before graduation,”

“No, my last is seeing if my thesis was peer reviewed and accepted for publication somewhere,” you sigh, “I still have to make the edits—“

“That can be a later problem, just focus on the moment right now,” he steps behind you after adjusting the Hakama and tying it around the back and front to secure it, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “and now you look both beautiful and properly dressed,”

His arms wrap around your waist from behind, “Sugu, we have to leave soon,”

“Just a minute, just let this sink in,” he kisses the side of your neck, “have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“Hmm, just about every second of the last few days,” you lean against him, and nothing ever felt so perfect — his arms were the only ones you belonged in.

And yet, why did that thought also hurt?

“What is iy, baby?” Suguru murmurs, ever too perceptive as always, “something on your mind,”

“More like someone,” you mumble, and you’re laying your head against his shoulder, “I can’t help but feel guilty — Yuta and I just broke up and I’m—“ you’re shaking your head, “I’m so happy, and I hate myself for it,”

Suguru frowns, “I don’t know Yuta well, but I know he did love you, the same way I do, and I can’t speak for him,” but then he’s squeezing your middle, “but as someone who loves you, I’d want you to be with someone who could make could make you happy,” you kiss his head, “and isn’t that why he broke up with you? You both deserve that chance — even if it’s not each other.”

“When did you get so smart?” and he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing along the neckline of your kimono.

“Somewhere between my bachelor’s degree and being your professor,” he adds with his lips curled in a smirk, “though I’d err closer to the time of being your professor,”

Your head against his shoulder, you lean up for a kiss, as he blinks, before melting into your touch, as you pull back with a grin, “it’s ok if I initiate the kiss,” you chuckle when you catch sight of his pout, “don’t worry I’ll be giving you plenty after the ceremony — and maybe something even more than a kiss,”

“Is that a promise?” And you tug him close, pressing another kiss to his lips — your lips were already smudged, so why hold back.

“Always, for you.”

Yuta knew it was for the best.

It had been a few weeks that he spent mourning his relationship — but he knew that it was the right choice for him. He had chased after you, it felt as if he was dogging your every step, waiting for you to notice him. And when you did, he still felt as he was your second choice — and that he would live in Geto’s shadow for the entirety of the relationship.

And he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that — and neither did you. More than anything, he wanted you to be happy — even if that wasn’t with him.

It was for the best.

And the start to the new semester just proved that. He was starting his final year of his program, he had become the head of the student government (after Maki decided to step down to a more administrative role to focus on her degree), and he had even become a teacher’s assistant to one of his favorite professors. He didn’t have time to focus on a relationship, not when he should be focusing on his future.

He entered the classroom that day, a little early on his professor’s request to set up the classroom with handouts, only to bump into someone, papers spilling from his hands.

“Sorry, I—” he leans down to pick up the dropped papers, before glancing up and finds himself looking at just that—

His future.

A few months later.

“You’re late,” Suguru Geto remarks, as he shows you his watch on his wrist — the very one you had bought him for his birthday a few weeks before, “but I should expect that by now, shouldn’t I?”

You give a guilty grin, as you find your way to his side, sliding your hands up around his neck, “Yes you should, especially when your girlfriend is a very important lecturer who was kept by all her students — jealous?”

And he chuckles, his hair tied up in a half bun as usual, your fingers toying with a strand again, before he’s lacing with fingers with yours to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “Very — because your students are stealing my time with my very intellectual girlfriend,” and he leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “it sounds like it was a success — I knew it would be,” he adds, “but someone else wasn’t so sure,”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Yes, yes, you were right — the students found my work interesting, or at least interesting enough not to fall asleep and ask questions—”

“High praise,” and your lips curl into a smile, “What?”

“I love you,” he grins back at you, a chuckle on his lips, as he leans down to capture them, his smile apparent against you, as he parts from you, a heat still present in the pit of your stomach, a need for him burning as it always was, “I love you so much, Suguru,”

“I love you too, princess,” he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth against the length of your cheek, “Good thing too because otherwise, moving in together would be more than a little awkward,” and you pout, and he’s laughing before kissing you again and again, until he’s kissing your pout away with a languid kiss that has you melting into his grasp — breathless when he pulls away, lips utterly kiss ruined and red, “they should be calling us into the viewing soon,” he bites his lip,and you’re nodding reluctantly if only considering whether if you could sway him for another few moments alone. Instead you settle for burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his leaping pulse, “you’re sure about moving to Kyoto? I had only chosen Kyoto to give you space—”

You cut him off with a glance up and a raised eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I could choose, and I chose Kyoto because not only is it a good opportunity for you here to build your reputation as the department head, but because it’s a fresh start for us,”

His fingers lace with yours, “Well if they keep asking you to lecture in Tokyo, you might develop a commute,” and you roll your eyes, before shrugging.

“I can handle it,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as I'm coming home to you.”

“And a cat or a poodle,”and you light up, grinning even wider, “we should ask if they allow pets,”

“Really? We can—”

“I heard poodles are a good choice of pet,” and you’re leaning up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, “I made an appointment for at an adoption center after this,”

“Mr. Geto?” a person comes out of the leasing office, “we’re ready for you both,”

And you pull away, your fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing his hand, “Are you ready?”

His lips curl in a smile, “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? Especially they agreed to take us for our viewing after you were late,”

And you chuckle, as the two of you made your way inside, “I swear you’re going to leave without me one of these days if I’m late enough,”

“No, I’d never do that. I’ll always wait for you, sweetheart,” he holds the door open for you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have all the time in the world after all.” And you grin at him as you walk past him, his fingers reaching into his pocket.

He had found out his answer to life — watching you greet and speak with the agent, before glancing back at him with a small smile and tilt of your head — his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket—

And now he just needed to know yours.

END.

Yuta’s own love story will be coming after Professor Gojo’s!

✧a/n: wow i'm still in disbelief i finished this series. this is my first series on tumblr, and i truly hope you all enjoyed. this part was wayyyy longer than i expected. but i hope i did the series justice.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru fanfiction #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader

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alvojake · 21 hours

Text

The Murder House | Pt. One

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

「synopsis」 : after waking up trapped in a room with a dead body, you are saved by none other than heeseung, but you're still left with questions. why were you and your friends trapped there, and who is behind it all? though it would seem that you won't be getting your answers very easily and definitely not without a few losses.

「word count」 : 10.2k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, blood, dead bodies, cussing, mentions of muder, mind games, drugging, mentions of mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, etc...), jungwon is kinda reckless, lmk if I missed anything!

It felt like time had slowed down, your fist starting to hurt from how hard you were banging on the wooden surface of the door. Tears were streaming down your face, and the bile in your stomach still threatened to arise at any given chance. You knew you should have never agreed to this stupid thing. You knew that something would happen, that it all wasn't just in the movies.

You just knew.

And now you were stuck in a place only god knows where with a dead man that you didn’t even know. The door seemed to be sealed shut, with no sign of opening. Your throat was starting to hurt from the yells you had been screaming for the past few moments, as well as the sobs that were racking your lungs.

Just as hope seems to dwindle, the knob suddenly twists, and the door flies open, causing you to stumble forward right into the person's chest. Quickly pulling away, your head tilts up to see who your savior has been.

“Oh my god, y/n?” Heeseung’s eyes grow wide as he quickly grabs your biceps, looking down at you with worry. He had been woken up by your banging, finding himself sprawled out on the couch that was in the lounge.

“Heeseung? Where’s everyone else? Where’s Riki? What are we doing here?” You start shooting off questions left and right, not even leaving Heeseung a chance to answer anything. It was when you started to hyperventilate that he started to panic and tried to calm you down.

“Hey, y/n, calm down; you’re going to cause yourself to have a panic attack!” He tried to coax you into looking at him, but your eyes were everywhere but his.

“I… where… we—” You were starting to babble nonsense, fear clouding your pupils, and Heeseung was worried that if he let this continue, you would really have a panic attack. To be quite frank, he had no clue what to do if that happened. It was always Riki or Jay who dealt with your panic attacks, so he was completely in the dark.

Having you pass out from practically not breathing was not something he wanted to deal with, not on top of whatever the hell else there was in the rooms with them. Without too much of another thought, he grabbed your face, forcing your attention on him.

“Breathe, please.” He whispered softly, his warm breath fanning your face. Fresh tears prick at your eyes as you inhale deeply through your nose before letting out a shaky breath. Heeseung nodded before he finally took note of the crimson liquid that your pants and arms were covered in.

“Are you hurt?” He tried to keep his voice steady despite the frantic worry that pooled in his gut. He had never in his life seen so much blood on a person before since that time that Jake sliced his hand open, trying to cut carrots in their dorm a few years back.

Your eyes followed him down to your hands hanging at your sides. The blood was starting to dry, turning it a rust color. Seeing it covering your skin makes your stomach turn once more, and you bite your tongue to keep the urge to throw up everything in your stomach at bay. Looking back up to meet Heeseung’s worry-filled one, you just shook your head, lips curling inward before pointing behind you. Your eyes stayed averted.

“There’s a…” You inhaled sharply when your eyes landed on the poor man’s body once more, bile creeping up your throat. Heeseung’s eyes grew wide once more as his own eyes sat upon the mutilated body that lay in the middle of the room.

Alarms were starting to sound in the older male's brain. This wasn’t some kind of twisted prank. No, there was something seriously wrong here.

He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around your smaller frame. His hold was enough to ease your mind a tiny bit, so for that, you were thankful, but there were still so many questions that haunted your thoughts.

Heeseung's brain wasn’t too far off from yours; questions clouded his thoughts. However, one prominent question outweighed all of the others.

What the hell was happening?

After Heeseung shut the door and pulled you away from the door, you felt like you could finally breathe a little bit better. You had found a discarded rag that you deemed clean enough to wipe some of the blood from your skin.

You managed to get a pretty good amount off, but there was still some stuck in the creases of your knuckles and neck that you didn’t even know was there. There was even some blood stuck underneath your fingernails. How? You weren’t too sure.

The air around the two of you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was not entirely comfortable, either. Tension was thick in the air, thick enough that you were sure you could cut it with a knife. You need to break it before it starts to drive you further into insanity.

However, before you could open your mouth to speak, Heeseung beat you to it. “Do you know who that is?”

You automatically shake your head, “No, I have no clue who that is.”

“This has to be some kind of sick joke; I mean, why the hell would they lock us in here?” Heeseung scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. He knew deep down that this wasn’t a joke, that they were in actual danger.

“Wait,” Your ears perked at his words, hearts dropping to your stomach once more, “what do you mean lock? Are we locked in here?”

“Yeah, there’s some weird ass pattern lock on the door,” Heeseung says as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Panic started to arise in your gut once more, and you shot out of your seat, making a beeline for the door. Your eyes landed on the weird keypad that displayed a pattern lock, just as Heeseung had said. Your hands wrap around the door knob hoping by some miracle that the door would just open, but it didn’t budge. Of course, it didn’t budge.

Your heart started racing as you ditched your attempts at opening the door and started banging on the wooden surface, much like you did with the other room. The sound of your fist hitting the door reverberated around the room and Heeseung stood from his seat with a sigh.

“Jay! Riki! Is anyone out there? We’re locked in here and need help!” You started shouting, hoping that anyone on the other side would hear you and come help. Though there was no one out there to hear you, let alone help you.

Heeseung walked over to you and grabbed your wrist just as you were about to hit the door once again. " You need to calm down. There isn’t anyone out there, and you’re just wasting time.” He didn’t necessarily mean for his words to come out harsh, but he knew that your senseless screaming wasn’t going to help them in any way, shape, or form.

“Wasting my time? My fucking brother is out there, probably just as confused, not to mention our friends. How can you just sit here and do nothing?” You shouted at the taller male, and he took a half step back, shocked by your outburst.

However, his eyes narrowed into slits, “Nothing? I’m not doing nothing, y/n; we are fucking trapped in here without a fucking clue as to what we need to do. Yet you’re banging on the damn door, hoping someone will come and help us, but guess what? The only person that will save us is ourselves, there is no one out there!” He seethed causing you to flinch slightly. Noticing this Heeseung let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “we just need to calm down and look around for any clues, okay?”

You knew he was right, there wasn’t going to be some knight in shining armor that would swoop in and save you. No, it was just you and Heeseung.

“This is so fucked up.” You grumbled, arms wrapping around your body.

And it was all fucked up. You were in some unknown house with your little brother and friends. You were all clueless; nothing was making any kind of sense to you, and it was making your head hurt. What you do know though that whoever is behind this is some sick and twisted douchebag who was probably enjoying watching them all struggle.

“It is.” Heeseung agrees before looking over the room. Why don’t you go look through that cabinet, and I’ll search the bookshelf over there?” You nod, agreeing.

So that’s what you both spent the next few moments searching through a multitude of different papers and anything else that had been shoved in the cabinet. Frustration then started to bubble in your chest when you realized that you weren’t getting anywhere. The only thing you found that was any sort of ‘good’ was a background check on the dead guy in the other room.

Seo Wonsik – a twenty-seven-year-old male who was on the government's blacklist because of the countless times he tried and succeeded in hacking their system.

‘What the hell was a hacker doing here? And what did he do to be killed so brutally?’ Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to piece together any of the pieces you had but were left with nothing.

Heeseung had practically stripped the bookcase bare, books scattered all across the floor as well as the decor that was sitting on the shelves. He bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenching about, ready to move on to the next area. That’s when he saw something peeking from the ledge of the top shelf.

Reaching up, his fingertips brushed against the object, trying to move it so he could get a good grip on it. He kicked the books by his feet away, standing flush with the shelf before reaching up once more. This time, he was able to grab it enough to pull it down.

Once he had it in his hands, he took a step away from the bookshelf before looking down to see what it was. His brow furrows in confusion once he sees that it is an envelope, much like the one that was on the coffee table when they first got inside. He then looks over at you, watching as you throw yet another useless file on the ground.

Hitting the envelope against his palm, he starts walking over to you, “Have you found anything?”

His voice pulled you out of your head, and you stopped moving papers to look over at him. You shook your head with a sigh before pointing to the one paper you had set aside.

“Not really, but I found out who that guy is.” You then explained all of the information that you had found out, and Heeseung just nodded, trying to think of why a hacker would be here, of all places.

“Maybe he helped set this whole thing up?” Heeseung suggested but quickly shook his head, “but why would they kill him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they got what they needed?” It wasn't completely illogical; you had seen it happen on multiple crime shows. Then you noticed the envelope in his hand. " Did you find something?”

“Yeah, this was on top of the bookshelf.” He holds the envelope up, letting you see the wax seal on the front. " It’s just like the one from the lounge.”

You agreed before looking over at the shelf that Heeseung was just at, seeing that he had taken almost every book off. Just then, you noticed something on the ceiling, and rage burned bright in your veins.

A small camera, almost invisible, was stuck in the far corner of the room. They were watching you, just like you had thought they would. Moving past Heeseung, you started shouting curses at the device, nearly tripping over the scattered books.

“You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you, you sick fuck!” You shouted, pointing at the camera, anger blinding you, “I hope you rot in fucking hell, asshole!”

“Y/n! Focus, please.” Heeseung groaned, wrapping a hand around your arm to pull you away. You looked over at him before turning back to the camera one last time to flip the device the middle finger.

The two of you move over to the couch once more, but neither of you takes a seat. Heeseung breaks the wax seal and pulls the paper out of it. Tossing the envelope to the ground he unfolds the paper before moving over so the both of you could read it.

Welcome to your first room! The first room is always the easiest so you shouldn’t have too hard of a time getting out, but be careful, you could still bite the dust! Let’s get the ball rollin’, shall we? Here’s your first clue! — ‘What lies still and silent, yet whispers the answer you seek?’

You blink a few times, trying to process what you have just read. A sense of dread hits you like frigid water has just been splashed on you. It was a riddle and a weird one at that. Biting at your nails, you look around the room, seeing another cabinet.

Though you were sure that wasn’t what the riddle was leading to, you needed to find something, so you made a beeline for the cabinet. Swinging the drawers open, you rummaged through all of the papers.

Heeseung stands in the same spot, repeating the riddle to himself in a quiet whisper, trying to make sense of it.

“Lies still and silent, yet whispers the answer you seek…” His eyes search around the room, “still and silent. Still and silent. Still and-” That’s when it hit him. Could it be talking about the body in the other room? It was something that would normally be mobile yet lies still and silent.

Heeseung laid the paper down on the table before calling out your name, catching your attention. You tear your gaze away from some contract paper, eyes meeting Heeseung’s.

“The riddle, it’s talking about the body.” He points towards the door that holds the dead man. Your stomach instantly turned, and the bile returned to creep up your throat.

“No. Nuh-uh. No way. I am not going anywhere near that.” You started to freak out once more, shaking your head violently. Heeseung took quick strides towards you, his annoyance was evident in his features.

“God dammit, y/n!” He grabbed your arms, fingers digging softly into your skin as he shook you slightly, “do you want to get out here?” You looked up at him with wide eyes, nodding, “then suck it the fuck up and help me find the damn clues.”

Tears involuntarily pooled in your eyes. Heeseung had never shouted at you, never. He didn’t want to be mean, but if it was the only way to get you to listen, then that’s what he was going to do, and he would apologize later.

“All of this is so inhumane.” You spoke with a shaky voice, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re going to get out of here. Alive.” Heeseung ran his fingers through his hair as he backed away from you, “come on.” He held his hand out to you, and with some hesitation, you placed your smaller hand into his.

Heeseung took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours before pulling you towards the door. As the distance grew shorter, your heart started to race, and a cold chill ran down your spine.

Pushing the door open, the older male pulled you behind him until you were standing before the body once again. You averted your eyes just as quickly as you looked at him, bile burning in the back of your throat and tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.

Heeseung pulled his hand out of yours and crouched down, his hand covering his nose as the putrid smell engulfed his senses.

“Oh god…” He groaned as he reached forward to move the jacket; tears started to brim his eyes from the smell. His hands shook as he started to search for any kind of clue, praying that he was right and you guys weren’t doing this for nothing.

You stood there shell-shocked as you watched Heeseung search the man, blood slowly staining his skin. It took all of your willpower to keep your feet planted and not make a run for the other room, wanting to be anywhere but here. Heeseung notices you still standing in the same spot from the corner of his eye.

“Check his pockets.” He motions to the man’s pants, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment before going back to patting the man’s upper half down.

You slowly move down to your knees, staining your pants in blood once more. Tears were flowing down your cheeks silently as you reached for the man’s pockets, your hands shaking uncontrollably.

The room grew silent. The only sound was clothes rustling and your quiet sniffles. You had searched the man’s pockets but came up with nothing, so you moved on to just checking his legs and shoes. The putrid smell was starting to make both of you dizzy, and you were sure you would have thrown up your stomach contents if there was anything there.

“Found it!” Heeseung exclaimed, holding up a piece of paper he had found in a secret pocket of the man's jacket. His outburst made you nearly jump out of your skin, eyes wide as you looked over at him.

He started unfolding it so he could read it, but then you noticed something in the man’s hand. As he starts to read, you reach over, pulling the object from his clasped fingers.

“Heeseung…” You called out the boy’s name, terror shaking your voice. Holding up the bracelet, you looked over to meet Heeseung’s eyes, and by the look on his face, he recognized it. You knew who this belonged to, seeing as it was a handmade gift from Jake.

Heeseung takes the piece of jewelry with wide eyes, inspecting it closely. — “This is Sunghoon’s.”

Jay’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and a groan fell from his lips. The bright overhead light burned his eyes as he tried to let his vision focus. He could have sworn that the electric buzzing of the lights would cause him to go deaf from how loud it was.

Blinking a few times, he looked around the room with scrunched eyebrows. Where was he because this definitely was not his bedroom or any other room he recognizes.

Then, all of the previous events hit him like a ton of bricks. The scene of all of his friends slowly passing out until his own vision went black.

Sitting up quickly, he groaned, his head pounding from the sudden movement. Once the pain dulled down, he further inspected the room before he found Jungwon sprawled out in the recliner off to his right. His mouth was parted slightly as drool dribbled from the corner of his lips, causing Jay to cringe at the sight.

“Jungwon,” Jay calls out, nudging the boy’s knee, but he shows no response. Rolling his eyes, Jay stands to his feet, allowing himself to catch his balance before walking over to the sleeping boy. Jay reached out and shook Jungwon’s shoulders, but the only kind of response that he got was gibberish, and the boy moved away from Jay’s hands.

“Of all people to get stuck with, it was him.” He grumbled, breathing through his nose, and his jaw tightened before he hit the side of Jungwon’s thigh with a firm smack, causing the boy to wake up with a yelp. He looks up at Jay with wide eyes, a mixture of confusion and shock clouding his pupils. Jungwon sat up, asking Jay what he had done that for, and Jay just scoffed.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, we don’t have all day,” Jay told him, annoyance evident in his tone.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Jungwon asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his mind still very much in a daze. For whatever reason, the events leading up to now were foggy; he couldn’t quite place what had happened besides that they were going to some haunted escape room.

“Well, for starters, I’m pretty sure we were drugged,” Jay explains as his eyes search the room, missing the expression that settled on Jungwon’s face.

Jungwon blinked a few times, trying to process what had just been said to him. He thought that Jay must have gone insane, or this was all just some huge prank they were pulling on him because there was no way that they all had been drugged. Yeah, that had to be it. This was all just a screwed-up joke.

“Ha ha ha, very funny, you almost had me. Where’s the cameras?” Jungwon burst out laughing, wiping fake tears from the corner of his eyes. His eyes scanned the room, trying to find any kind of hidden camera, waiting for the others to pop out at any moment.

Jay looks at him with a pointed gaze, completely unamused, and arms crossed over his chest. Not a single word left his lips, but the expression on his face was enough to tell Jungwon that he was, in fact, not joking around. His amused laughter slowly died down into a nervous chuckle as he realized the severity of the situation.

A cold chill ran down his spine at the thought of all of them being drugged, but he couldn't figure out why. They hadn’t done anything to upset anyone. You all did your own thing but none of them warnented for someone to do this.

Jungwon then remembered that he had his phone in his pocket. “Wait, we can just call the others!” he exclaimed, standing abruptly while the older of the two rolled his eyes.

While Jungwon started to pat down his pockets, searching for his phone, Jay made his way over to the door. He took note of the keypad that sat underneath the doorknob; the numbers lit dimly, but what really caught his attention was the outlines ‘x’s, which probably meant that they only had three tries to get the correct answer.

“Where’s my phone? I swear it was in my pocket.” Jungwon started to freak out, stripping the recliner in search of the device. He started to feel his heart racing underneath his ribcage; there was no way that his phone was just gone.

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose, stands straight, and turns towards the younger male, explaining that whoever drugged them probably took their phones, too. Jungwon, however, just stands there like a clueless cat.

“Have you never seen any horror movies?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow, his annoyance level gradually rising.

“No, they're too scary.”

Jay scoffs, “again, of all people to stick with me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Alright, listen, the door is locked with a keypad. However, I think we only get three chances to guess it correctly.”

“What happens if we guess wrong all three times?” Jungwon asks wearily, not entirely sure he wants to know the answer, though deep down, he knows what it means.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’ll be anything good, and I definitely don’t wanna find out either.” Jay was sure that it didn’t mean anything good for them, but then again, this whole situation wasn’t good.

The room then grew silent, both boys lost in their own thoughts, trying to make sense of anything. Jay continued to search the room with his eyes, trying to see if anything stood out. There were a few paintings hanging on the walls; the only one that stood out the most was one with a tree, but the leaves were four different colors, almost like an abstract ombre. Brushing it off as a weird taste in art, he moved on. Then a small red flash in the corner of the room caught his eye, looking over he saw a small camera hidden in the far corner of the room.

“They’re watching us,” Jay stated, catching Jungwon’s attention, who had just picked up an envelope that he saw stashed under some paper on the coffee table.

A chill ran down the younger’s spine at the revelation that someone was just watching them as if they were in some kind of TV show. With shaky hands, he tore the envelope open, which only grabbed Jay’s attention. Looking over, he saw the paper and snatched it out of the boy's hands because he wasn’t sure he could trust Jungwon to comprehend any of what had been written inside.

“Hey!” Jungwon jumps, looking at the older male with wide eyes. "You can’t just snatch things out of people's hands!” He complains, but Jay ignores him. Seeing as Jay is going to ignore him, Jungwon watches as Jay fully unfolds the page before his eyes scan over the words. His anxiety levels spike the longer Jay stays quiet.

Finishing reading, Jay could only scoff, eyes flickering away from the page. He could feel his heartbeat ringing in his ears, dread flooding his veins. Jungwon steps closer, worried that something was completely wrong as if the whole situation wasn’t wrong. Trying to look at the paper, Jungwon’s eyes flickered up to Jay’s, asking what was wrong.

“We’re trapped in here.”

“Obviously,” Jungwon said nonchalantly, his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie. Jay, however, sent a deadly glare at the younger boy, causing him to chuckle nervously. Averting his gaze, he said, “Sorry.”

“Pretty much this is the first room, and the severity will only grow as we go.” Jay started to explain, both boys growing uneasy, “It also says that if we guess the code wrong three times, we’re out.”

Jungwon’s blood ran cold, and fear clouded his senses. The words were far too cryptic for his liking. Everything about this was cryptic, and it only left him questioning things more.

“What does that even mean?” Jungwon’s brow scrunched together, thinking of the multiple possibilities it could mean. Not a single one of them was very good.

“I have no idea, I’m just as clueless as you, and this is literally the most cryptic shit I’ve ever read in my life.” Jay seethed, tossing the paper down on the coffee table, irritated. “We need to look for clues.”

“Did it at least give us any leads?” Jungwon asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets and pointing back at the paper that Jay had just thrown down.

“Let the colors guide you. Whatever the hell that means,” Jay told him, stepping away from the table. Let’s just look around the room and see if we find anything.” Jungwon nodded before moving to the side of the room where a shelf stood.

The two of them then spent the next few grueling moments searching through all the cabinets and shelves for anything that might be useful. Neither of them seemed to have found anything, though, which only further fed their irritation.

Searching through yet another filing cabinet, Jungwon opened the bottom drawer and was met with four big numbers on a page. His eyes lit up as he made a loud noise of excitement, scaring Jay, who stood on the other side of the room.

“I found it!” He shouted before scrambling to his feet and making a beeline for the door. Jay’s eyes went wide as he watched the boy start typing in numbers before he could even get a chance to stop him.

Jay rushed over to the younger male, pulling him away from the door just as a loud buzzer sounded in the room.

“Incorrect code. Two chances remaining.”

“What the hell, dude?! You can’t just fucking throw numbers on there and hope they work!” Jay hissed, eyes narrowed into slits, “We don’t have all the chance in the world, so stop being so reckless.”

A small pout adorns Jungwon’s lips as he stares up at Jay, “I was sure it would work, look.” He holds the newspaper up, and Jay’s ears start to burn a bright red before he snatches the paper out of his hands.

“This is the fucking year, you dumbass!” Jay reprimanded the poor boy and turned the paper back around so Jungwon was looking at it. However, on the back of the page Jay noticed that something was highlighted in blue ink. Upon closer inspection he realized that it was a number highlighted. Jay then quickly turned around, looking for a piece of paper that he could write on, confusing Jungwon.

“What are you doing?”

Jay stopped his movements to look at the boy, “I'm trying to find something to write on. Stop lollygagging, and help me find a pen or something.”

Remembering that, he saw a pen in one of the filing cabinets, so he moved back over to them, searching through the drawers once more. Once the pen was in hand, he walked over to Jay, who had found a stray notepad. Jungwon watched the man in confusion as Jay took the pen and wrote down the number.

‘Five’

He then set the notepad and pen down on the coffee table next to the newspaper before standing straight. Jungwon glanced down at the table before his eyes flickered back over to Jay, waiting for him to say something.

“Look for anything with a highlighted number. My guess is there are three other numbers.” Jay instructed Jungwon, who was softly chewing on the skin of his lip but nodded nonetheless.

While Jay returned to his original side of the room, Jungwon went back to the filing cabinets to recheck everything in case he had overlooked any highlighted numbers.

Once he deemed the filing cabinets clear, Jungwon moved to the dresser in the far corner of the room. Pulling open the first drawer, he felt his stomach turn, and bile crept up the back of his throat. There, sitting on top of another paper, was a photograph, one he was sure he had seen before.

“Jay…” Jungwon called out to the older male. Swallowing thickly, he turned to meet Jay’s awaiting gaze. He then held up the photo with a shaky hand, “Isn’t this y/n and Riki?”

Heeseung swallows thickly, trying to get the lump that had formed in his throat to go down before pocketing the bracelet. You just watched him, not sure what to make of it all. Did Sunghoon have anything to do with this? Was he the one who killed this man? Questions started to arise, but Heeseung quickly snapped you out of it with a cough.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions right now, okay?” His voice was soft, almost as if he was trying more to convince himself than you, but you nodded slowly nonetheless. " Let’s just focus on getting out of here for right now.”

He stood up and made his way back into the other room, leaving you sitting there staring at the spot he had once been. Even though you knew he was right and you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, you couldn’t help but try to think if Sunghoon showed any suspicious behavior, but the only thing you could think of was that he had started to distance himself from the rest of the group. You had thought that it was just because he had a competition coming up and it wasn’t anything new if he did distance himself, claiming that he needed to keep his head clear.

“Y/n.” Heeseung called out to you causing your head to snap in his direction, breaking your thoughts. He motions for you to come join him, so you slowly climb to your feet, ignoring the way your knees groaned in protest or how you left bloody footprints in your wake.

The both of you take a seat on the couch, looking at the paper that Heeseung had found. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you looked at the dots. However, the bottom left dot was drawn in red. Then you remember that Heeseung had said that the lock on the door was some kind of pattern, so this is probably one of the spots.

“You said the lock was one of those pattern locks, right?” You asked, causing the older male to look at you before looking over at the door and nodding.

“Yeah, and we only get three tries.”

You looked up from the paper in your hand, mouth suddenly dry, “what happens if we guess wrong all three times?” The first thought that popped into your head was that the two of you would die.

“I don’t know, but I doubt that it’ll be anything good.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He was sure he had a good idea of what would happen, but he wasn’t going to tell you and run the risk of you freaking out again.

“We’d die, wouldn’t we?” you asked, your voice quivering slightly as fear washed over your body once more. Heeseung didn’t say a word, nor did he meet your eyes, which gave you your answer, one that you already knew but dreaded to hear. The air around you both grew silent and tense. It made you uneasy. You were not entirely sure why, but you needed to break it. “Do you think the others got similar puzzles or whatever?”

Heeseung looked over at you as if you had just pulled him from his thoughts. He let out a breath, “I wouldn’t doubt it.” The male then abruptly stood to his feet, causing you to jump slightly. " Come on, we still have more pieces to find.”

So that’s exactly what the two of you go back to doing, tearing the room apart from top to bottom, finding the rest of the pattern. Following the riddles that had been written on the back of each one before too long, you were working on finding the last one.

Neither of you was sure how much time had passed since you had woken up, but that didn’t linger in your minds for very long as Heeseung called for you once again. Looking over, he showed you the paper with the same dots once more.

“Are we sure that this is the last one?” You asked hesitantly, sitting down next to the dark-haired male.

Heeseung laid all of the pages out on the coffee table before looking over at you. "It has to be; there is nothing written on the back like the others.”

“Okay.” You bite your bottom lip before looking down at the pages. Do you think the pattern would be the order we found them in?”

“That’s too easy.” Heeseung shook his head before covering the lower half of his face with his hand, deep in thought. He wasn’t even sure where to begin looking for the order. Was there some kind of indicator? A number, maybe? No, that’d be too easy. Maybe it was the order that they found them in, but he wasn’t going to risk trying that, and it would be wrong.

You then suddenly sat up straight, causing Heeseung to jump slightly, his eyes flickering over to you. It took you a few moments, but you noticed that there were shapes in the bottom corner of the pages, each shape different.

“There’s a different shape at the bottom of each page.” You started to explain, pointing to each shape. Heeseung, however, looked like a deer caught in the headlights, confused and completely lost as to where you were going. Noticing that you had lost him, you let out a sigh before scooting closer to the edge of the couch. “The number of sides on the shape is probably the order that they go in; see, the lowest is the line because it really only has one side, obviously.” You point to the page that had the line on it before pointing to the page with a hexagon, “Then this one would be the last one because there are only six pages.”

Heeseung made an ‘oh’ face when he finally understood what you were trying to say. He then leaned forward, grabbing the page with a triangle on it. " So this would be the third one?”

You nodded, leaning forward to see all of the shapes that had been put on the pages. Digon, hexagon, line, pentagon, triangle, and square. The two of you took the next few moments to put them all in the correct order.

A smile tugged on your lips as Heeseung laid the last page in its correct place. You had figured it out, and you were going to get out of here. Heeseung met your smile with one of his own before the two of you stood and made a beeline for the door. Eager to get out, Heeseung drops down to his knees in front of the lock, tapping the screen and causing it to light up. He reaches out to start the pattern but stops short and looks back at you with a sheepish smile.

“I forgot…” He chuckles, and you roll your eyes, telling him to move out of the way, which he quickly does.

Taking his place, you inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves. You were 99% sure that you had the correct code but couldn’t help but feel worried. Shaking your head softly, you reach out and enter the pattern, just like the sheets laid out.

When you were finished, you moved back, a bit worried that it was wrong because nothing had happened. A cold chill ran down your spine at the thought of having to backtrack and figure out the code once more. Then the screen turned bright green, and the sound of the lock turning allowed a sense of relief to wash over you.

“We did it!” You jump up with a wide smile, throwing your arms around Heeseung, which surprised the boy, but he returned it nonetheless. He was relieved to finally be out of the room, ready to go find the other so you all could make it out of this hellhole. Alive.

“Come on,” Heeseung pulled away, looking down at you with a soft smile, “let’s go find the others.”

Between Jay and Jungwon, they had managed to find three out of the four numbers. Jay was surprised that they even made it this far. He was sure that if the room didn’t kill them, Jungwon would with how reckless he was. He kept trying to just enter whatever code he thought was correct, but thankfully, Jay had stopped him every time. It just didn’t seem to click in his head that they could die if they ran out of chances.

“I found it!” Jungwon exclaimed, and Jay quickly turned around just in case he needed to grab the younger boy once more. However, Jungwon didn’t make a move towards the door but rather walked over to Jay.

“Lemme see that.” Jay held a hand out and Jungwon placed the paper in his hand, watching as the older male inspected the paper. Jay’s eyes caught the number at the bottom of the page, highlighted in purple.

‘One.’

They walked over to the coffee table, and Jay sat the paper with the others, jotting down the number on the notepad. He then sat down, comparing the numbers, trying to figure out if they correlated with anything. Then, the dilemma of their order popped into his head, and he groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” Jungwon asked, moving over to take the empty seat next to the silver-haired male. Jay tosses the notepad down on the table before looking over at Jungwon telling him that they still have to figure out what order they go in.

“And before you ask, no, we can not just randomly guess.” Jay quips, glaring at the younger boy, who raises his hands in defense.

Jungwon then grabbed the papers with the highlighted numbers, spreading them out. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed Jay’s attention by hitting his arm: “Hey, the colors are different!”

“What are you talking about?” Jay rolls his eyes before leaning forward to look at the papers.

“Look, each number is highlighted with a different color.” He pointed to each page, and they were, in fact, highlighted in different colors.

Jay’s eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to make sense of it. Why colors and what order do they go in? The rainbow, maybe? Or was it lightest to darkest? There were far too many possibilities, and Jay wasn’t going to risk entering the wrong code. They only had two tries left after Jungwon screwed up the first time.

“This might be a stretch, but don't the trees' leaves match the colors?” Jungwon voiced out, snapping Jay out of his thoughts. He looked at what Jungwon had been pointing to, seeing the strange painting that he had seen earlier, and weirdly enough… the colors did match.

Without saying a word Jay grabbed the papers, placing them in the same order as the tree leaves. Jungwon just sat there quietly, eyes scanning the numbers when Jay finished.

‘8501’

The two of them looked at each other for a moment before standing and quickly walking over to the door. Jay crouched down so he was face-to-face with the keypad, tapping it so the screen lit up. Jungwon leaned over Jay’s shoulder, watching him intently, not realizing just how close he was. His warm breath washed over the back of Jay’s neck, distracting him.

Jay closed his eyes, letting out a huff, before turning his head to glare at the other boy. Jungwon’s breath hitched in his throat, so he backed away and gave Jay a quick apology.

Once he was sure that the distraction was gone, Jay turned back to the keypad and entered the numbers in the order of the colors. After he finished, the screen just turned black, causing both boys’ hearts to drop.

Just as Jay was about to back up and suggest they look for another solution, the keypad flashed green, and the lock turned. Standing quickly, the silver-haired male looked back at Jungwon with wide eyes, who looked just as shocked.

Reaching out, Jay grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door open. Once the door was fully open, he turned back towards Jungwon, “Now let’s go find our friends.”

Walking down the dimly lit hallway made you wish that you had grabbed a candle or something from the room. It wasn’t that it was too dark to see anything because you could. No, it was because it left an eerie feeling in your gut. Like there was something lurking in the shadows, and to be honest, you wouldn’t be too surprised if there was.

Between you and Heeseung, you have checked just about every door that was in the conspicuously long hallway, but every single one of them was locked. No sound was heard except for the occasional rattle of a doorknob and your footsteps that seemed to echo in the empty hall. When you got to the end of the hall, you noticed that it turned, but there was still another door to check.

“You check that door, I'mma go look down this hall.” You whispered, and Heeseung nodded before turning and walking towards the door. You then turned your head back around just as you rounded the corner, but not quick enough to stop yourself from running into something.

A scream erupted from your lungs as you scrambled to get back, almost tripping over your own feet. Heeseung nearly jumped out of his skin when your scream echoed down the hall, and he was quick to rush over to make sure you were okay.

“Hey, hey, y/n, it's just me.” You looked up with wide eyes, seeing that what you had run into wasn't something but rather someone. Heeseung let out a relieved sigh when he caught sight of Sunghoon.

Letting out a groan, you reach forward, smacking the male’s arm, “good god Sunghoon, you scared the shit outta me!” You exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair trying to will your heart to slow so it wouldn’t burst right out of your chest.

Heeseung laid his hand on your upper back, asking if you were okay, and you nodded, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He kept his hand there as he looked back over at Sunghoon, whose eyes were narrowed in on you, and for some reason, it left the older male feeling uneasy.

“Is it just you?” Heeseung asked, pulling the younger's attention away from you.

Sunghoon shook his head, pointing over his shoulder. “No, Sunoo is in a room we found back there.” His eyes flickered back to you as you straightened your body, eyes meeting his. Come on, I’ll take you. Is it just you guys?”

You nod, following after the taller male Heeseung not too far behind you, “yeah, we haven’t found anyone else yet.”

Sunghoon nods before stopping in front of a door, opening it, and letting you and Heeseung walk in. Inside, Sunoo is standing at the desk, looking down at some papers that were left, trying to see if they have anything worth it. Of course, they are useless, much like any other paper they have found. The sigh he had started to let out is caught in his throat as soon as he hears the door opening.

Turning around, the fear and tension in his shoulders dissipated, and a bright smile formed on his lips as he watched you and Heeseung walk into the room. You returned his smile with one of your own before walking over to join him while Heeseung stayed back, looking over at Sunghoon.

“Was it just the two of you?” Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest as the question slipped past his lips, his eyes staying on you and Sunoo.

Sunghoon glances at the older male, not missing the unease that was written all over his face, his jaw tight. “Yeah, it was just us.” Sunghoon starts, his gaze flickering over to you and Sunoo, watching as Sunoo points to something on one of the papers. “We woke up in a room that was on the complete opposite side of where I found you guys.”

Heeseung glanced at Sunghoon for a moment before he heard a gasp from Sunoo, his head whipping back around, worried something was wrong.

“Oh my god, are you bleeding?!” Sunoo exclaims as he grabs ahold of your arms to check you over for any injuries.

You stood there confused for a moment before looking down and catching a glimpse of your blood-stained clothes. During the commotion of getting out of the room, you had forgotten that you were covered in blood. A shiver runs through your body as you recall the dead man from the other room, and your stomach turns once more.

“No, it’s…” You swallow thickly, heat rushing up your neck to paint your face a deep shade of red, “it’s not mine.” Sunoo just looked at you, puzzled, until you started to explain how you woke up in a room with a dead body and how you’ve come to be covered in his blood.

Sunoo’s eyes went wide. He asked if you were okay, and you just gave me a soft smile, reassuring him that besides being traumatized, you were fine. Sunghoon then asked if you had known the man as he and Heeseung walked over to the two of you.

“No, I have no idea who he is, but I found a background check on him, and I think he worked for whoever is behind all of this.” You explain, eyes flickering over to the taller male recalling the bracelet that they had found, “We did find-”

You were cut short by the sound of a doorknob rattling on the other side of the room. Heeseung quickly grabbed you, pulling you behind him as his eyes shot to the door. Your heart dropped as fear slithered its way into your mind, once more scared that something bad was going to happen.

The door swung open, revealing Jay and Jake, who looked at the other four in the room with wide eyes. They weren’t sure what to expect on the other side of the door, but seeing their friends was definitely not on top of their list. However, they were happy to see you guys nonetheless.

You peeked around Heeseung, trying to see who it was, and your eyes went wide. Before Heeseung even had the chance to stop you, you darted from your spot, latching yourself right onto Jay, arms encasing his waist.

“Y/n? Oh, thank god.” Jay breathed out, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, missing the cold glare the two of you were receiving.

You then pull away, looking up at him, worry etched in your features. “Where’s Riki?” The fear fuels the thoughts in your head that your brother isn’t with them and is still out there somewhere. Noticing the look in your eyes, Jay flashes you a small smile, his hand resting on top of your head.

However, before he could open his mouth to tell you that your brother was just behind them, the boy walked through the door, looking around. You detach yourself from Jay and rush over to Riki, grabbing his arms and causing him to jump slightly.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You started throwing questions at the boy left and right as you checked him over. Riki smiles at you, grabbing your hands and squeezing slightly.

“Y/n, I’m fine, I promise.” He reassures you, his eyes racking over your body, noticing the blood stains all over your clothes. “Are you okay though?”

You miss the slight twitch of a smirk on the younger boy's lips as you look down at yourself. “I’m fine, just shaken up. Are you sure you’re okay?” You look back up at him, eyes gleaming with worry. “I was so worried.” You place your hand on his cheek, and he grabs your wrist, pulling it away with a small grimace, telling you once more that he is okay.

“Hate to break up this cute sibling moment, but Sunoo found another letter or whatever.” Sunghoon clears his throat, catching all of your attention, pointing over to the blonde who was holding up an envelope. Everyone then moved to the center of the room, where an armchair and a small table sat. Once everyone was pretty much huddled in a small circle, Sunoo unfolded the paper and started reading it aloud.

‘Congratulations! You’ve survived the first room, not that it was too hard right? Now, don’t get too hopeful, as the next room you’ll be in won’t be as forgiving. Enjoy your small break and good luck on making it out alive!’

No one says a word, the tension in the room growing thicker as the words sink in. A chill ran down your spine at the thought of one of your friends or even your brother not making it out. Jay puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, thoughts of his own flooding his mind.

“Shouldn’t we like look for any kind of clues while we’re in here?” Jungwon spoke up, pulling his hand away from his lips seeing as he had been chewing on the loose skin around his nails.

Everyone agrees before doing exactly that, splitting off either on their own or in pairs. Jungwon and Sunoo make their way back to the desk where the blonde had been moments ago. You walk over to one of the bookshelves on the far side of the room, skimming through the books. Jay follows Heeseung to another bookshelf that isn’t too far from where you are. Riki and Jake move to the far corner of the room, talking amongst themselves, eyes flickering over to the others for a moment before turning back. Sunghoon then sits down in the armchair, his chin resting on his fist as he props it up on the armrest. His eyes looked distant, as if he wasn’t fully there, lost in his own little world.

Looking through the bookshelf, you couldn’t help but notice how Sunghoon hadn’t moved from the chair, his eyes now flickering from group to group, watching them all with an unreadable expression. Your mind then trailed back to the bracelet that you had found on the body. You didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he wasn’t helping ease your mind, not even a little bit. You wanted to believe that he had nothing to do with this, that it was all just one huge misunderstanding, but the bracelet was one of a kind; there was no way someone could just get another one.

Glancing at the dark-haired male once more, you let out a sigh before making your way over to Sunoo and Jungwon. As you got closer, the two boys noticed you and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Hey, Sunoo, quick question.” You speak quietly, not wanting to alert the male who is sitting not even five feet away. “Was Sunghoon like that in the other room?”

Sunoo glances over at Sunghoon, whose eyes are currently on Jay and Heeseung, “I mean, he was pretty standoffish, but he still helped look around for the clues.” He looked back at you, his eyebrows scrunched together.

Nodding your head slowly, you then look down at the papers he was holding, “Have you guys found anything?”

“Besides a bunch of useless documents, no.” He sighs, tossing the pages back down on the desk causing Jungwon to look over for a moment. You give him a tight smile before patting his shoulder and turning to walk away.

Making your way over to Jay and Heeseung, you felt eyes on you. Looking over, you caught Jake staring. Realizing that he got caught, he flashed you a smile, which you returned before walking over to Jay. The smile that adorned the male's face dropped once he saw how close you were standing to Jay. His jaw clenched tightly before looking back at Riki, who had asked him something.

You stood between Jay and Heeseung, listening to them talk about a book title that they had seen before you tapped both of their arms, causing them both to jump slightly. Seeing that it was you, Jay subconsciously moved closer to you while Heeseung turned his attention to you.

“I really don’t want to jump to conclusions, but Sunghoon has been acting weird.” You spoke softly, biting your bottom lip, and both boys peeked over at the younger male.

“A lot has happened in such a short amount of time,” Jay told you as he turned back towards you, “I’m surprised that the rest of us are even looking; this is supposedly our ‘break time,’ evidently.”

You purse your lips slightly before looking over at Heeseung for a second, who just turned away from Sunghoon. You had known Sunghoon almost as long as you’d known the others, so it didn’t feel right to accuse him of anything without any actual proof, but finding the bracelet and the way he was acting now only left a bad taste in your mouth.

“Jay, we found his bracelet on the body in our room,” Your voice shook as you looked up at him, and Heeseung pulled the piece of jewelry out.

Jay’s eyes grow wide as he instantly recognizes it; even with the blood soaking one half, he knew that the bracelet was the one Jake had made specifically for Sunghoon. His eyes quickly shifted over to Sunghoon, who was sitting in the chair, looking at his arms and seeing that the bracelet was, in fact, not on his wrist anymore. Turning back to the two of you, he covers Heeseung’s hand and the bracelet with his hand, pushing Heeseung’s down, making sure no one else is looking over at the three of you.

“Let’s just keep this between us, ya? I don’t want to cause panic with the others.” He spoke quietly, looking between you and Heeseung who nodded his head, shoving the bracelet back into his pocket. “But y/n…” Jay looked down at you, “I think this might have something to do with you.”

You looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes, “Me? You’re telling me that I’m the reason that this is happening?” Your heart started to race as your voice shook, and a mixture of fear and anger filled your veins, “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to assume, Jay.”

“No, listen, Jungwon found this picture of you and Riki in our room.” Jay reached for his pocket to pull the photograph out, “but your face had been scratched out.” He holds the photo out to you, and you quickly grab it, eyes wide and your ears ringing as your stomach drops.

“I thought I had lost this a while ago.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, turning the photo over and seeing your handwriting on the back.

‘The love between siblings knows no boundaries.’ - Y/n & Riki

Your hands started to shake as fear etched itself into your soul. Had this all really been your fault? Noticing the tears in your eyes, Jay pulled your smaller frame into his, wrapping his arms around you while Heeseung put his hand on your head.

“We’ll get out of here,” Jay whispered, hands rubbing the small of your back. His eyes flickered up to Heeseung. “Together.”

Just then, a loud bang reverberated around the room as the doors slammed shut, and the sound of the locks turned right after. Everyone jumped, their eyes went to either of the doors, fear and terror written on everyone's faces. Jungwon was the first to move, walking to the door and trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Is this the next puzzle?” You asked, stepping away from Jay and looking over at Jungwon, who looked at you with wide eyes.

The room started to fill with a smell that you couldn’t quite place, but it was starting to make your head woozy. Blinking a few times, you tried to clear the fog, but to no avail. Sunoo then dropped to the ground, making you gasp. You started to make your way to him, but your head started to spin.

Jay quickly grabs you, shouting at everyone to cover their mouths and noses with their shirts. However, it was too late. You collapsed in Jay’s arms, unconscious, while Heeseung stumbled before dropping to the ground as well. Before too long, everyone had succumbed to the gas and collapsed to the ground.

The ringing in your ears was like an alarm, pulling you back to consciousness. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking hard to adjust to bright overhead lights. Once your eyes adjusted and the ringing dulled down, you looked around your surroundings. Your heart started racing the moment you saw Jungwon lying on the ground a few feet away from you.

You scramble to get to your feet, almost slipping and falling in the process, but you catch yourself before rushing to Jungwon’s side.

“Jungwon! Wake up!” You shake him roughly, hoping to get him to open his eyes, which he does after a few moments, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the bright lights.

“Y/n? What’s going on? Where are we?” Jungwon slowly sat up, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

Before you could open your mouth to say anything, the sound of your name being called caught your attention. Turning around, a loud gasp fell from your lips when you found Sunoo standing in a clear cage of sorts. Three locks adoring the door, trapping him inside. Your stomach dropped as you stood to your feet, ready to go over to him. However, you then saw Jake on the other side of the case, standing up with wide eyes. “Rise and shine! The early bird gets the worm as they say” A robotic voice came through the speakers, echoing around the room scaring you. Jungwon stands by your side as a large screen turns on, displaying a countdown, and all of your hearts sink. “Welcome to game number two! You may have gotten out of the first room with no trouble at all, but I can’t promise the same for this one.” Jungwon grabs your hand, causing you to look over at him before looking at Sunoo, who looks horrified, hands pressed against the glass. “Here, you will have a very limited time to complete all three puzzles to collect the key to let your dear friend out. However, if you can’t find them all within the time given to you, well…” The sound of water running, followed by a gasp, caused your head to snap in Sunoo’s direction, eyes growing wide. “He’ll be swimming with the fishes.”

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 17

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude arrive home to their respective families, and begin to face the realities of their separation.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 16

You’ll be surprised to know that the odds of surviving a plane crash are pretty much in your favour; despite the fact I killed everyone off in this story except for our Delta hero and his heroine.

Around ninety-five point seven per cent in your favour to be precise. However, the doomed flight eight-sixteen defied those perky odds when the engine caught fire and the plane plummeted out of the sky and crash landed into the ocean, nose first.

The survival rate was hampered by several factors: the storm, the pilots being unable to regain control of the aircraft, and the fact that the plane hit the water at such a speed that it broke apart upon impact.

There were no other survivors; the plane’s black box was never found. A search party ensued of course as soon as the plane didn’t arrive at its intended destination, but the searches were only conducted in and around the immediate area where the plane was last spotted on radar. The point of its disappearance was just past the tip of South Africa, having been tumbling off course as it was crash landing, towards the Kerguelen Islands; a group of islands in French Southern and Antarctic lands.

The original destination for flight eight-sixteen was Madagascar - Jude’s choice for a sunny getaway and Frankie’s work taking him there for a fresh start. To relax and unwind and do some lemur spotting whilst getting over their respective break-ups and life kicking them in the mutual grits.

A distance of two thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles separates Madagascar and the Kerguelen Islands. And a distance of one thousand, three hundred and thirty-four miles from Cape Town on the tip of South Africa to the Prince Edward Islands.

The islands are for the most part uninhabited, except for a native colony of penguins. However to the north east of the islands, there are further tinier islands that are also uninhabited and isolated, and this is where our two survivors ultimately washed up.

The climate around the islands is predominantly warm with generous helpings of rain and it’s for this reason that Frankie and Jude were able to survive and collect water on a regular basis, although sometimes dangerously sparing. Sheer dumb luck in brute honesty, I mean, they could have crash landed anywhere, right?

Of course this knowledge now seems useless and pointless to them because every day on that island was a constant battle for survival and no amount of facts or ‘you were lucky you landed where you did’ spiel is going to change that harrowing thought.

The flight back home to The States was as anxious as they come. Stepping foot onto that plane was one of the bravest things they both had encountered and achieved. And the pair didn’t let go of each other’s hands at all, occasionally squeezing tight when the plane would dip or jolt from turbulence; their hearts trying to make a dash for it and their bowels equally bracing for carnage in their seats.

The flight from Cape Town to New York’s JFK was approximately twenty-one hours with a stop-over in Amsterdam for a re-fuel. They sat in business class, with that extra leg room for Frankie of course, and Jude marvelled at the space, courtesy of the US Embassy.

The luxury and the service came with a bright bleached smile, whilst Frankie admired and watched Jude as though she were a caged animal being let loose for the first time.

They had no physical luggage aside from a tiny carry-on with a spare pair of clothes each, their phone chargers and a small amount of cash that Benny had wired Frankie through the help of a local bank; other than that, they just had their new passports, out of date iPhones and each other.

Jake had arranged for a security escort to meet them at the airport and to drive them to their Air Bn’b in the city, close enough to Jude’s parent’s house.

They eventually dozed off together, Jude’s head resting on Frankie’s bony shoulder and his head on top of hers, clutching tightly onto one another’s hand still, even in their drowsy state.

The plane touched down at JFK and it was raining out; a grey sky greeted them, seemingly following them home from the island, and despite it, it was good to be finally on firm ground that wasn’t sand.

They waited to exit the plane under instruction from their escort, after the flurry of the other passengers who paid no mind to them at all, and in no real rush to face the inevitable - Jude’s stomach was already in knots.

They went through border control, handing over their passports for inspection and scrutiny with Frankie taking his cap off to reveal his long, overgrown locks to the officer.

They both were in dire need of a haircut amongst other things, but Frankie was kinda rocking this shaggy grown out look and even attempted a man bun.

“You look like a pretentious dick, take it out,” Jude had said to him, laughing, when he modelled it for her back in the hotel room in Cape Town.

“It was the look I was going for.” He’d mused to her.

Just outside the arrivals hall on the other side of passport control, an officer is holding up a plaque with Frankie’s last name printed over it, and they both approach them cautiously.

“Captain Morales, I presume?” The officer enquires. He’s flanked by several other border patrol and burly military officers, and their escort from the consulate in Cape Town hands over their documents.

“Just Frankie,” Frankie greets as the man offers his hand to shake it.

“We’re here to escort you both through arrivals and get you home. It’s a little crazy out there. Everyone is glad you’re both home safely.”

Jude can hear the ruckus already - an animated fracas of chatter and excitement. The sounds of camera shutters are already going off and flashes of lights pulse down the entrance hall.

“You ready?” Frankie asks her, tightening his grip on her hand.

She smiles. “No.”

Frankie takes his cap off and places it on her head, pulling the visor down over her face.

The officers flank them in an arrowhead formation, closing the gaps on the sides whilst two officers head up the front.

“Just keep your head down, hermosa,” Frankie says, and squeezes her hand. “It’ll soon be over.”

They begin to walk in unison and it’s like they’re walking in beat to the rhythm of her heart, slowly getting faster and faster as they break through the automatic doors into arrivals and into a deluge of carnage.

The crowds start clapping and cheering. The terminal is a whirlwind of noise and motion, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation of the island.

“FRANCISCO! JUDE! OVER HERE! FRANCISCO!”

The crowds are cordoned off with barriers and police officers lining the route. A plethora of journalists and paparazzi flank them, following through the crowds, and a glitter of flashing lights blind them both as they push on forward with the military officers surrounding them.

“Francisco, how do you feel about being rescued?”

“What's the first thing you’re going to do now you’re back?”

The questions come rapid fire and are yelled through the gaps of the officers, each one more intrusive than the last.

“How did you become a couple?”

“Do you have anything to say about the Airline? Are you going to sue?”

Frankie tightens his grip on Jude’s hand, drawing strength from their connection. He can feel her trembling, and he knows she’s just as overwhelmed as he is.

The cacophony is deafening and Jude feels Frankie squeeze back onto her hand tightly before he pulls her inwards, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and she buries her face into his armpit and squeezes her eyes closed, wishing it was over.

“Keep moving,” one of the soldiers instructs, his voice firm but reassuring. “We’ve got you covered.”

They push through the throng, the military personnel forming a protective barrier around them. The crowd is relentless, cameras flashing in their faces, microphones thrust forward in the hope of catching a soundbite.

Frankie tries to keep his focus ahead, his hand pressed up against the shoulder of one of the army guys so as not to get separated, but the sheer volume of attention is staggering.

“How does it feel to be back on American soil?”

“What was the hardest part of your ordeal?”

“Can you tell us what you remember about the crash?”

The noise seems to die out a little as they exit the terminal and are practically manhandled into a large car with tinted windows, which speeds off as soon as the doors are slammed shut. Jude clocks a few wayward journalists taking photos of the car and running after it.

The car heads out of the airport, picking up speed as it hits the freeway and she finally breathes.

“You guys okay back there?” The soldier who greeted them turns in the front passenger seat to face them.

They both nod with eyes wide and frightened.

“You okay?” Frankie asks her, still moulded tightly under his arm.

“Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed. That was insane!” Jude whispers back to him.

“Yeah, fuckin’ crazy…” Frankie murmurs.

They’re dropped off with their documents and the soldier informs them he’ll be back tomorrow to escort Frankie to the airport and drop Jude at her parents.

Once inside the safe confines of the Air Bn’b, which is a little apartment, with a double bed and bath tub big enough for them both, they both sit back in the hot bubbly water as Frankie cradles Jude against his chest after washing her hair and listening to her humming and singing her favourite songs. He automatically braids it and she smiles at him over her shoulder.

“Habit,” he replies as she runs her hand down the tight weaves of the braid. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder.

After making a small meal, which they barely manage to eat, they lay in bed together, their limbs knotted and entwined as they kiss and touch and stain their skin with one another.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jude says to him as the room darkens around them.

“I won’t stay away long.” Frankie confirms.

“Take as much time as you need. Your family will want to spend time with you.”

“It’s gonna be weird not waking up with you in my arms.” Frankie admits after a while of lying there with her and feeling her warm body against his. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.

“I know. We’ve not spent a day apart for over a whole year.”

He nods against her head, his chin butting it slightly. “Mm,” he agrees.

“Will you call me when you land?”

“Of course. I’ll call you every day, at least five hundred times.” He smirks into her hair.

“Maybe not five hundred… four hundred and ninety-nine will do just fine.” Jude giggles.

They both laugh and he pulls her closer, breathing out through a stretch and a yawn.

“Are you sleepy?” She asks him.

“A little.” He replies through a small sigh. “Been a long day.”

She kisses his forehead delicately, resting against his head as he shuts his eyes.

Frankie opens them momentarily and strokes her face. “Do you have bad dreams?”

“About the island?” Jude asks him.

“Yeah.” He admits timidly.

She nods. “I used to have this nightmare while we were there, that a helicopter came and rescued you, but it left me behind. I could see you flying off in the distance and waving at me. I was running so fast but then you disappeared.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Frankie reaffirms to her.

“I know. It was just a bad dream, right?”

“Right.” He says. His breath smells sweet in her face, scented from the mint of his toothpaste. “I’m coming right back to you, okay?” He promises.

“I know.” Jude says. “Get some sleep, you’ve got another flight again tomorrow.”

He kisses her gently. “Duerme bien, sin pesadillas, hermosa.” (Sleep well, no nightmares, beautiful)

His fingers dance upon her bare skin in the early morning fuzz of the light, and every single touch, even the lightest of touches, makes Jude’s body convulse and react in a way that she never thought possible.

Her body is communicating with him, becoming fluent in his language whilst receiving every part of Frankie that he offers so freely.

His big hands engulf her body, sweeping across the surface of her warm skin and soothing her. Frankie kisses her lips and down her chin, sucking on it before he sweeps under her jaw towards her collarbone.

Licking her nipple and awakening it from a swollen, puffy areola in the warmth of a new day being born across the Big Apple, that flows in from the open window, she hums out deliciously as she stretches around him. He pulls it further into his mouth as her back arches, enjoying the feel of his wet tongue running over it and leaving cool, wet tracks.

“Mmm...” She whines softly into the air with her eyes closed.

Frankie nips it gently making her squeal. He smiles around the hardening bud as he smooches on it gently, carrying on his journey down her body.

His unruly curls tickle against her skin, long and feeling coarse and wiry from being dried out by saltwater and constant sun exposure. Jude runs her hand through it, sweeping it out of the way so she can see those lips and the disruption they cause.

He kisses down her stomach, hooking his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulls them down over her hips. Frankie has her spread with his whopping hands separating her thighs and pushing them up as makes out with her pussy. Kissing and dipping his adept tongue into her wet folds to taste her as he goes. The clicks of his kisses sounding out are all around her as the flicks and darts of his tongue delve deeper each time he licks her out.

Jude reaches down, raking her fingers through his locks as he looks up at her - those piercing, dark eyes swirling with infecting poison; his lips mashing against her cunt and his tongue flicking over her clit as he sucks around it.

His fingers massage the inner meat of her thighs, gripping and rubbing as he feasts on her, making her body squirm as the tingly pressure on her clit mounts.

“Frankie...” She gasps out as his delicious gnawing begins to intensify and make her toes curl.

She scratches harder at the back of his skull, him grunting into her at the feel of it - those fingers twisting around his hair and tugging as they become knotted in his scalp, sending prickles flooding down his back.

His cock is rock hard, being crushed between his body and the mattress as Jude writhes against his face. He sucks her fleshy lips, popping and squelching out of his greedy mouth before he’ll lick them up again and suckle some more, unable to get enough of her.

“Oh fuck!” She sighs out, her eyes closed and tumbling.

She gyrates her hips around, rocking against his tongue to get the best of him, feeling that pulsing and glitter begin to blind her vision.

“Mmm, don’t stop.” She writhes more intensely now, hearing his gasps around her folds as her legs twitch and her thighs shake uncontrollably. Tasting those wet, fleshy ribbons as he licks up and down, up and down on a repeating cycle that makes her soar.

Her gasps are getting louder, her back arching higher in a dangerous contorted curve as she pants and groans, fisting inside of his hair ferociously that she could almost tear it out.

Her body shakes, rippling as she cries out, reaching down with scrambled, frantic hands and gripping onto his arms as the veins in her neck strain, her eyes roll into the back of her head and her pussy contracts and explodes all over his mouth.

“FRANKIE!”

Frankie sucks harder on her clit, pinching it between his teeth deliberately as she bucks and pulses; her head thrown back into the pillows, the room feeling like it’s spinning faster around her.

She’s out of breath as he licks up and down, planting kisses and his lips knock against her clit, buzzing and making her thighs jolt from the shock of the sensitivity that now crowns it.

He smooches against it delicately, looking up at her and holding her eyes. He kisses the inside of her thigh, nuzzling into it.

Jude beckons him to her and like a slave to his heart and cock alike, he willingly follows. He slowly begins to crawl up her body towards her face. His cock sweeps against the inside of her apex and he’s solid and heavy against it. Precum smears across her skin and feels cooling in the morning breeze.

He leans over her on his arms as he pushes his hips into hers, slipping comfortably inside of her wet, slick hole again as she gasps out for him, her head lifting off the pillow to meet his plush inviting lips.

The island has stripped everything superficial, leaving only raw unfiltered connection, this bond that can’t be broken. Every glance, every touch speaks volumes of shared pain, survival and resilience. It isn't just about love, it's about understanding. They had seen each other at their lowest, held each other through heart-wrenching despair and found strength in their unity.

Words are often unnecessary now; a simple look can convey the deepest of emotions. Her hand slips into his, fingers interlacing with a familiarity that feels ancient, as if they've known each other for lifetimes.

His hand swoops around the back of her head and holds her, keeping her close to him as Frankie slides in and out of her, working up a tantalising rhythm that makes his lips part, his breath coating her face. Deep, indomitable strokes make Jude feel every inch of him - make her remember him.

Frankie curls his fingers around her throat gently, stroking the skin there with his thumb and feeling her groans vibrate against his palm as he kisses down the side of her face, a slew of kisses planted under her jawline.

He flashes back to the countless nights when the fear and hope had danced on the edge of their consciousness, where dreams of rescue seemed distant and elusive. It was during those moments their connection had solidified, becoming an unbreakable anchor in a sea of uncertainty. She was always there, holding him up; her eyes reflecting the hues of the setting sun and sparkling off the ocean waves at him.

He feels it, feels the emotion surge over him and he buries his face into her neck, squeezing away the tears as he scrunches his eyes shut. Frankie can feel her legs tightening around his waist, hanging onto him and taking him so deep into her.

“We made it, I love you. We made it… I love you.” She chants through her gasps and cries.

His head lolls a little, like he can’t handle it any more. His body feeling weak and out of breath and losing his stamina fast. Gasping so hard his throat runs dry and no noise will flow out of it anymore; just those inhaled croaked whispers of oxygen steaming past his teeth.

Jude whimpers as he presses his forehead against hers, his hips still bucking into her deeply; the slick feel of his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, her walls contracting and tightening around him. Gasping out loudly in unified melodies as they swallow each kiss, panting as their bodies slide across one another’s.

“Come for me,” she hears him grunt through his gasps as the slapping of his cock inside her soaked pussy relentlessly hammers.

Squeezing into his skin with her fingers as her body trembles and shakes, she releases, feeling wondrously dizzy.

Frankie slows, winding his hips into her so she can feel him deeply. They stare into one another’s eyes, holding that gaze as they pant and soar together. He cradles her closer to him as he kisses her, feeling how good she feels around him. She squeezes and her body aches, aches for him to never stop.

Her hands are in his hair again, scratching around his scalp and making his head tingle and pulse.

“I love you,” Jude whispers to him and he groans out in response, his body starts to fly.

“I love you, hermosa,” Frankie replies as he mashes his lips to hers and grunts out in a deep, husked whine as he comes deeply inside her, his cock twitching and seeing stars behind his eyelids as she cradles him in her arms.

“We made it.” He pants.

“We made it.” She sighs.

As soon as she knocks on the door, Jude’s engulfed by her parents who won’t let her go out of their strangling grip.

Her mother clutches hold of her as if she might disappear again and her father’s tears betray his own usually composed exterior. The three of them cry all over each other, for what seems like hours on the porch, as Frankie hovers awkwardly until he’s dragged into the throes of it.

He’s plied with copious amounts of coffee, feeling sick to his stomach, whilst they listen horrified and aghast at their tales of sheer grit on the island.

They don’t divulge too much, but it’s enough to render her mother to tears again and her father to shake Frankie’s hand for saving his daughter.

“Actually, she saved me. She’s got bigger balls than I do.” Frankie chuckles, and her father pats him on the back approvingly.

“I like him,” her father says to Jude approvingly.

But hovering over the reunion is the agonising moment when Frankie and Jude will have to part and it's in the looks they give one another as her parents talk and engage with them. It’s in the sinking feeling in Frankie’s gut and the acrid taste at the back of Jude’s throat.

Watching him pull away in the car, waving to her through the window with that giant palm, is like her heart has been ripped out of her chest.

His departure, even if only temporary, leaves a hollow ache. An unsettling thought creeping in about how she can navigate being here without him. She knows she can't.

They had been inseparable for so long, facing every challenge together and now they had to do this one alone. She tries to offer him a smile with her wave, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and she can barely hold on. She wraps her arms around herself trying to stave off the chill despite it being a warm day. Without him, the world is bleak and cold and scary.

Her mother comforts her as best as she can when Jude bursts into tears as the car disappears around the bend in the road at the bottom of the street, but all she does is retreat to her old room that has been left untouched and climbs into bed, crying until she falls into a stunted sleep.

The thought of him being mere inches away from her, let alone nearly a seventeen hour drive away in Florida, is shattering. The absence of Frankie is already felt the moment he’d let go of her hand and she would have given anything at that point to be back with him and in his arms.

Frankie’s flight back to Florida was delayed by a few hours, in a typical prolonged agony. You’d think as the writer of this tale I’d give the poor guy a break, right?

When it touches down eventually at Pensacola International Airport, there is no wild fracas to greet him like at JFK. It’s hauntingly quiet, no journalists, and leaves Frankie on edge a little as he stalks through arrivals on alert. Benny meets him in the terminal.

The sight of his old friend and comrade brings a flood of emotions. Benny’s face breaks into a wide, stupid grin, his arms opening out.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it, you son of a bitch!” Benny hollers, his voice choked with happiness and relief, as he hugs the fuck out of Frankie, and for a while doesn’t let go.

Frankie smiles ghostly back at him with pink, chapped lips and tired, droopy eyes.

“C’mon, let’s get you home, Fish.”

On the ride back to Benny's place, Frankie’s quiet, contemplative and staring out the window at the familiar surroundings of Pensacola. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the city, highlighting the palms swaying gently in the breeze.

They pass by the old coffee shop where he and Eddie used to go after the NA meetings and talk about his feelings and cravings. It still has the same faded awning and the neon “open” sign flickering in the window. Frankie can almost taste the bitter, cheap coffee and hear Eddie’s encouraging words again, but the memories feel like they belong to someone else.

“You okay, man?” Benny asks him as he winds his hand round the steering wheel, eyeing Frankie carefully. The car turns into a familiar residential street and he realises Benny still has the same apartment.

“Just weird, you know?” Frankie says, squinting in the sunlight through the window.

“Yeah. You came back from the fuckin’ dead. If that isn’t weird I don’t know what the fuck is, right?” Benny says with a smile draped in disbelief.

In some ways it’s like he had died on that island. Frankie knows a piece of him is still there, still trapped and unable to escape; his feet lodged in the sand that refuses to let go, and without Jude here beside him, he’s daunted at the prospect of truly living again.

A weird feeling considering, before the island, he'd felt dead in some ways too.

Benny explained that he had immediately called all Frankie’s family to inform them all that Frankie was very much alive and well, and was coming home. They had all cried, celebrated and struggled to wrap their heads around it of course, with so many unanswered questions at how he managed to defy all the odds.

“What happened to my apartment in the end?” Frankie queries.

They pull up at a stoplight, and Frankie’s gaze settles on a group of teenagers hanging out in front of the convenience store. They look so young and full of life and potential, even if they aren’t doing anything with it. He remembers being that age, full of dreams and plans to join the military and make something of himself. Now, after everything, those dreams feel so naive and distant.

Benny scratches over his head. “It was sold. We thought you... Well, you know.”

Frankie nods and bites down on his lip.

“You can stay here with me until you find somewhere else. I got you a pull out cot.”

“What about my stuff?”

“Maybe your parents kept some of it, I dunno. The rest is gone, man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Frankie replies. “It makes sense.”

“You thought about what you’ll need to do, call the bank, shit like that?” Benny asks him. They drive down a quieter neighbourhood, the sidewalk packed full of parked cars.

“Yeah. I’ll do it this week, maybe tomorrow.” Frankie shrugs.

Benny nods, turning the car onto the driveway and he kills the engine. “I got you, Fish. Anything you need.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Frankie smiles.

As Benny leads Frankie up to the door, he feels a weariness settle over him. All he wants to do is find a quiet corner and sleep, to escape the overwhelming swirl of emotions and noise. The journey home, the media attention, the fact that he's left Jude in New York without him, is all too much.

But as they step inside, all those thoughts of sleep are immediately squashed as a cacophony of voices yell out in surprise and greet him.

Faces from his family and friends all blur as they mingle and crowd him, the sound echoing off the walls of sobs and sighs of relief. Pats on the back, hugs into full bosoms. Benny looks a little sheepishly at Frankie and shrugs.

“They all wanted to be here,” he simply says, and Frankie can’t summon the strength to be mad at him for it, he’s just too exhausted.

So he allows himself to be passed around, gripping everyone tight in his arms. Banners and balloons are floating around and the apartment, cramped and small as it is, is filled to the brim with cheers, laughter and the smell of freshly baked food.

He spots Will and freezes. The two men stand facing one another for a moment, the weight of everything they’ve been through during the worst of Frankie’s addiction hanging between them. Then Will steps forward, pulling Frankie into a tight hug and he sags against his friend.

“It’s good to see you, Fish.” Will says into his shoulder. “You look like shit, but it’s damn good to see you.”

He stands there stunned. Frankie hadn’t expected this and although he’s pleased and relieved to see everyone too, he’s not sure if he can handle it all right now.

He looks around the room and at what feels like millions of pairs of enquiring eyes swarming him, lips moving with questions that are repeated and he doesn't hear them all, not fully. It goes on like this for what feels like hours; a tidal wave of gushed hugs, strong drinks being passed around the room in celebration of Frankie’s arrival home and tears from almost everyone.

Phones are ringing off the hook with relatives, friends and well-wishers all keen to speak to him that can't be there, and pass on their love and support. Being pulled this way and that into their arms and shoulders.

He feels like a bumper car, wandering aimlessly around the apartment, bashing into everyone who he comes across, and being pulled into conversations that are on a continual loop about how he managed to survive on the island and come home to them all.

The repetitiveness is exhausting him and overwhelming him in equal measure; it’s akin to being thrust into a plethora of screams and screeches, a black hole of braying deafening pitches, each desperate to reach out and touch him. To tug him here, there and everywhere and to get a piece of him, no matter how small or miniscule.

Around nine PM, Benny clocks the anxious look blooming on Frankie’s face crammed into the furthest end of the couch and seeming incredibly small inside it.

“You alright?” Benny asks him as he spots Frankie leaning on the sink in the kitchen with his eyes closed a few minutes later.

“Just tired,” Frankie replies. "It's a lot."

“Yeah. I get it. Everyone’s amped. Maybe it was a bit much having everyone here at once.” He admits.

“No, it’s cool. I wanted to see ’em. I’ve fuckin’ missed ‘em all.” Although it may have been better in small, contained doses - his head is hammering. “Thanks, man.” Frankie replies, stifling a yawn from escaping with the back of his hand.

“You going to call her?” Benny asks, as he notices Frankie checking his phone again.

Frankie nods and clears his throat, blushing.

“What’s she like?” Benny asks.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Frankie replies looking at him with sincere, watery eyes. “If she hadn't been there, I’d be dead for real.”

“What are you fuckin’ talking to me for then, call her.” Benny says and claps Frankie so hard on the back it winds him a little with the force. “I’ll get everyone going. You look like you might crash.”

He smiles as Benny heads off into the lounge and Frankie lets himself out of the back door into the small, overgrown garden. He dials Jude’s number and it rings a few times before she answers.

“Hey you,” comes her voice down the phone. It sounds relieved and he feels like he finally breathes for the first time since he left her.

“Hi, how are you?” Frankie asks, smiling as he speaks. “I’m sorry. I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

“Don’t ever say sorry for calling me,” Jude says, and he can hear her smiling. “You okay, you sound tired?”

“Yeah, I arrived to a surprise party. Wasn't expecting that. Everyone’s here.”

“I bet that’s nice.”

“Yeah… yeah.” He scratches at the back of his head.

“Or not?” Jude queries and he smiles at how well she can read him, even without seeing him.

“Just a bit much to take in. Tiring, but great.” He says.

They’re quiet on the phone and both laugh at the same time.

“I fuckin’ miss you,” Frankie says to her, the ache in his voice palpable.

“I wish you were here right now, I can’t sleep without you.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep much either.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” She enquires.

“I gotta go see my lawyer, talk to the bank, convince them I’m not dead so they give me my money back,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, me too. Fucking sucks dying, right?”

“I need a haircut.” Frankie chirps, running his hand through his long tresses that are down to his shoulders.

“Oh, me too. But, I’m going to miss your mop head.” She muses.

“I’m going to miss braiding your hair.”

“I won’t get it cut too short then.”

“Good,” he replies smiling as he wanders around the garden. He slings his free hand into his pocket.

There’s another silence between them.

“I want you here with me,” Frankie admits to her.

“I wish I was so badly right now.”

“I’m tempted to fly back to you.” Frankie admits, already trying to work it out in his head.

“I know, but your family needs you. And so does mine for a little bit.” She explains. “My mom is a mess.”

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, his back sagging a little.

“Have you watched the news yet?”

“No.”

“We’re on it. They got us at the airport.” Jude explains. “The news just keeps showing it over and over… feels really surreal.”

“Figures. They’ll wanna talk to us at some point.” Frankie explains, sniffing in deep.

“I know.” The tone in her voice is flat.

“We can wait, okay? Do it when we’re ready.”

“I just wanna kiss you right now.” Jude whines.

“Fuck, Jude. Stop it, or I will get on that fuckin’ plane.” Frankie warns, feeling the ache inside his gut and loins alike.

“I need you, Frankie. I’ll always need you. You know that right?”

Frankie smiles as he stops walking around the garden. “I love you,” he says to her down the phone.

“I love you, more.” She says to him and he chuckles.

“Don’t fight me on this.” He smirks.

His name is called from somewhere in the house.

“I gotta go.”

“Go back to your family.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait.” Jude smiles down the phone.

“Fish!” his voice is called again, and after hanging up and taking a calming deep breath, Frankie wanders back inside. He searches for the voice calling him and is met with a concerned look on Benny’s face.

“I didn’t know she was coming, man.”

Frankie spots Will, nursing a beer and laughing at something a woman who stands beside him says. She drops her wrist from his shoulder and the whole room goes silent except for the familiar tinny jangle of bracelets that have always adorned her wrist.

He watches in slow motion as Carla’s eyes land on him, widening a little and a small smile turns her lips upwards at him. A wave of her palm and then she’s walking over to him, and Frankie’s rooted to the spot. Unable to move or hear anything except the clattering beats of his blood pulsing in his ears.

“Frankie,” she murmurs softly.

He simply nods at her and tries to force a smile he knows he should give her. There was a time he smiled for her a lot. He remembers the early days, the memories stuffing themselves in between his ears, even if he doesn't want them to right now. The laughter they shared, the plans they made. They had fallen in love so quickly, so frivolously.

There were memories of lazy Sunday mornings in bed, spontaneous road trips and the way she used to look at him like he was her whole world. But then there were lies, secrets and shame. Frankie tries to forget them and bury them deep because that was a different Frankie, it had to be.

He remembers the lies he told her about his addiction, the late nights when he promised he was working, but was actually out scoring coke. He remembers her worried eyes, her pleas for him to get help, her face coming into a fuzzy view at the hospital when he woke up after the overdose.

He remembers his stubborn denial and digging his heels in. The fights, the arguments and the day he finally caved and told her he was done. And then he’d gotten on that damned plane. Leaving her and their history and pain behind and thrown up in the air, and it’s all here now, confronting him like a tidal wave, and he’s drowning right in front of her.

“When I heard the news, I-” She trails off unsure of what to say, and again, he just simply nods. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, it's uh… it's good to see you.” Frankie says.

And it is, in some bittersweet way; she looks good, healthy. A sheen in her eyes and a tan on her skin. They stand there for a moment, the silence stretching out between them.

“Listen, I… it’s not the right time, but we need to talk.” Carla says, offering a weak smile to him.

“Talk about what?” Frankie asks.

He feels the weight of their shared past hanging around them, thick in the cool conditioned air in Benny’s apartment. She looks at him, a mixture of sadness and relief in her eyes. And something else he can’t quite put his finger on, guilt perhaps?

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says, his own guilt pressing hard on the back of his tongue.

She baulks clearly not expecting it.

“For everything… For lying to you. For hurting you.” He says. And he is, part of him will always be sorry for it.

She reaches out, touching his arm gently, and he flinches.

“I know, Frankie. I just… I wish things had been different.”

His legs feel weak as he stands there before her, offering her an apology that’s long overdue, and yet hearing the words flow out of his mouth doesn't do it justice somehow.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Carla says, her voice trembling. “After we broke up… I didn't know how to tell you, and then you were gone, and it got so messy and I didn’t know what to do-”

“Carla-”

She takes a deep breath, meeting his concerned gaze. “Frankie, you’re…”

“What? What is it?” His mind races with a thousand thoughts and scenarios, but the one he doesn’t expect is the one she ultimately breaks him with.

She speaks again, the wobble in her voice sounding the words out clear and unmistakeable. “Frankie, you’re a father.”

To be continued...

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