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scuderiahoney · 2 months

Text

Color Theory

Oscar Piastri x artist!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy. Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: alcohol, mild drug use, sexual content 18+ MDNI, overuse of color descriptions

It’s summer in Australia, your favorite time of year despite the overbearing sun and the overwhelming heat. Sweat spikes on your brow, but the sunlight that pours through the windows makes you happy. The door to the back garden is open, the smell of wildflowers blowing in with the breeze. You can hear your roommates chattering in the other room. You hold a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other. There’s something just slightly off about this piece, some part of the light you’re not capturing quite right. You step back from the painting, trying to get a better view of the whole picture.

Someone calls your name from inside. You ignore them. By the third time you hear your name, you give in, setting the palette and brush down and heading inside. You’re still wearing your apron, covered in paint marks.

Lizzy, one of your roommates, smiles at you. “How’s it going?”

You sigh heavily. “Can’t get the light right.”

She nods in understanding. “We’re ordering pizza. Oscar’s on his way. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case you decide to try painting in your underwear again.”

You laugh. “It was one time,” you say defensively. “It was hot out and I was trying to become-“

“-one with the art, I know, I know,” she teases. “Just giving you a warning!”

You lean on the counter and let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? Him being here?”

Oscar’s an old friend of yours, and your roommates, too. Old, like preteens old. He left for the UK so long ago that you’d probably barely remember what he looked like if it weren’t for video calls and social media and now, his face being plastered everywhere. You’ve kept up, have stayed friends through it all. But it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him in person in over a year, the first time he’s ever going to visit your shared house, the first time since… since he became Oscar Piastri and not just Oscar.

Lizzy shrugs. “Only weird if we make it weird, right?”

She’s right, to a certain extent. Your other roommate, Leo, shows up with Oscar in tow, and you do your best to not be weird about it, and you think it works. He greets you and Lizzy with long hugs. He smells like sea salt and something warm. His body’s much more firm and filled out than he was the last time you saw him, which makes sense, you suppose. He still smiles like golden yellow sunshine, though, crinkled eyes and round cheeks and that near permanent blush on his face.

The pizza arrives shortly after he does, and you all settle into the living room to catch up. Oscar tells stories about racing, about his first year in F1, about his teammate and his competitors. You’ve been keeping up with the races more than you ever did before- Leo always wanted to watch but you hadn’t cared that much before it was Oscar, before the guy in the orange car was the same kid who used to finger paint with you in the backyard, your mother worried about the mess. Now you sit glued to the TV most Sundays.

In turn, you, Lizzy, and Leo update Oscar on what he’s missed. All about your family lives, your jobs, your other friends he’s lost touch with. He listens intently to each story, the way he always has.

“What are you doing for work?” He asks, nudging your knee.

You sigh dejectedly. “Nothing fun.”

He pouts. Leo elbows you and speaks up, though.

“She’s still painting, though,” he says brightly. “You should see the sunroom.”

Oscar’s face lights up. “Is that your studio? You always said you wanted a sunroom.”

He’s always been one of your biggest supporters when it comes to your art. He’s the one who’d join you in the art room at lunchtime in school, eating his lunch at one of the counters while you worked on your latest piece, unable to put the paintbrush down. He’d attended all your art shows, had bought you paints and brushes and sketchbooks for birthdays and Christmases, and had even posed for a portrait you’d been required to paint for class. He’d had a hard time sitting still for that long without falling asleep.

You nod with a smile growing on your face. “Living the dream with that one.”

The night slips away from all of you, caught up in conversations about everything under the sun. You find yourself feeling sad when Oscar goes to leave. He does it with hugs and a promise to be back in a few days. When he leaves through the front door, you feel that emptiness again, that hole that’s never healed quite right after he left.

Lizzy sees it on your face and squeezes your shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Two days later, you’re deep in painting mode, eyes beginning to ache as you stare at the canvas in front of you, when there’s a noise from the sunroom doorway. You turn and find Oscar standing there, eyes wide, brows raised. He chews on his lip sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. You hold back a laugh. “Leo said to come over and just let myself in, and I heard a noise, and- sorry-“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, tilting your head and smiling. “Leo should’ve told you, he ran to the store for drinks.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“You’re welcome to hang out, though,” you say, nodding at the chair off to the side in the sunroom. “Don’t want you getting bored all by yourself.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

He never would have questioned it before. He would’ve already been sitting, would’ve already known what you were painting, would’ve helped you get your palette set up. It’s different now. He’s been gone a while.

You jut your chin towards the chair again and wave a paintbrush in that direction. “Please. You’ve never been a bother.”

He was always the only one of your friends that you allowed to watch you paint. He knew when to stay quiet, and when you needed the background noise of his voice, without ever having to ask. He shuffles over to the chair and sits down. Oscar’s gaze dances through the room with wide eyes, and when you turn back to the canvas, you can feel him watching intently.

“What do you think?” You ask, just to break the silence. You gesture at the paintings lined up around the room. “Have my skills improved?”

He lets out a slow breath. “They’re amazing,” he says, and your heart twists in your chest. “I’m so glad you kept up on it. That you didn’t lose your… you know. Passion. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it.”

You nod. Most of your friends and family had spent your teenage years trying to convince you to learn any skill other than art. You’d continued pouring yourself into the paintings. Oscar had been one of your only cheerleaders through it all.

“It’s not easy,” you admit. “Bills and shit, you know? Real adult stuff. But I’ve been trying to get into some galleries recently. I don’t know if it’ll ever be something I can make a living off of, but I’ve gotta try.”

Oscar nods in understanding. “How about when I win my first championship, I’ll make good on my promise?”

You laugh. There’d been a night just before he’d left for the UK where the two of you had stayed up late, out far past curfew at the local park. You’d laid under a tree next to him, giddy on the high of breaking the rules and the late hour. He’d told you all about his big dreams. About F1 and championships and how he was going to make it big. And when you’d asked if he’d remember you, he’d smiled and turned his head towards you, eyes wide in the pale moonlight, nose nearly touching yours.

“I’ll use my money and open a gallery,” he’d promised. “And I’ll fill it with all of your paintings.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Even the bad ones?”

He’d nodded, so seriously. “Especially the bad ones.”

Now he sits next to you in your makeshift studio, so close to reaching his dreams. You can only hope you’ll get there, too, someday.

There’s a party at your house that night. There’ll be more people there than usual, wanting to talk with Oscar and taking up his time. But for now there’s just you and him in the studio you’ve always wanted, the one you talked about under the tree in the park. You’ll take what you can get.

Oscar finds you later at the party, in the back corner of the backyard. The sun is nearly gone, the last bits of daylight slipping away. When he walks up, you’re leaning back in an outdoor armchair, and you smile hazily up at him and hold out the joint you’d been smoking.

He shakes his head. You pout.

“I get drug tested,” he says, and you suppose that’s understandable. “And I think my trainer would kill me over the lung damage.”

“It’s just once,” you friend says next to you, “can’t do that much damage.”

“Oscar’s a high performance athlete,” you tease.

Someone finishes the infamous Daniel Ricciardo quote for you, complete with the sound effects. You’re not really listening, more focused on how Oscar rolls his eyes as he sits down on the arm of the chair. You tilt your head to look up at him.

The late sun is hitting the bridge of his nose, a bright orange band against his freckled skin. He blinks at you with thick lashes, and you wonder how you’d capture the look on his face with paint- the softness of his cheeks, the care that sits heavy on his browbone, the restlessness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t like to do portraits- Oscar’s one of few people you’ve painted, but it was years ago. He was a skinny kid with a bad haircut. Now his jawline is chiseled and sharp, and his hair falls over his forehead in a soft swoop. He's pretty.

He cocks his head at you. You’ve been staring too long. You force a giggle and nudge his knee. He laughs right back.

You’re not sure how he ends up squished into the chair with you, his arm over your shoulder, his bare thigh pressed to yours. You think maybe it was your doing- you grabbed his arm, pulled him until he sunk in next to you. The sun is gone, now, the evening chill taking over, and it’s nice to have him next to you, keeping you warm. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head.

“You can go, you know,” you say quietly. Most of your friends have abandoned the corner you’re in, moving to the lit back deck, or the firepit area. You and Oscar have stayed put, though.

“D’you want me to go?” He asks.

You shake your head. He laughs. “I just don’t wanna take up all your time,” you say with a shrug.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”

You curl in closer to him. You’re right where you want to be, too.

Eventually, the two of you rejoin the group. He stays glued to your side most of the night, though. His shoulder presses against yours, and in turn, you lean against him. He grows quieter as the night goes on. That’s when you remember that his time spent with you while you were painting wasn’t just for your benefit. He’d been a quiet kid- popular, but easily exhausted by socializing. He’d liked the solitude and comfort of the art room nearly as much as you had.

In the backyard full of your old friends, he seems content to stay stuck on you. When he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, you wiggle one of yours in alongside his, hoping you’re not crossing a line. Or maybe, really, you’re hoping it’s a line he wants you to cross. When he knits your fingers together, you sigh happily.

People leave one by one, with hugs for Oscar and promises to watch the next season. He says goodbye to them and then returns quickly to your side. Soon enough, Lizzy shuffles off to bed, and then Leo stretches and does the same, and it’s just you and Oscar. You hide a yawn. You don’t want to go to bed, not yet.

He squeezes your shoulder, his arm around your back, now. He has his cheek pressed against your temple. For a moment, you wonder if you could stay stuck to him long enough to keep him here. If eventually, the two of you would fuse together. That’s probably just your wavering high speaking. He mumbles something into the side of your head. You break from your staring at the coals and make a noise of confusion.

“Missed you,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t…”

This feels like too heavy a conversation to have now, when things have felt so good and warm all night. You know it’s coming at some point, but you’ll avoid it all costs. You turn further into him and wrap an arm around his middle, and let your eyes fall closed.

“I missed you too,” you say, rubbing your thumb against his rib cage through his sweatshirt.

The two of you sit quietly for a few moments. Then, you say, “you know, I still have that portrait I did of you. How many races d’you think you need to win before I can make some money off that?”

He laughs into your hair. His hand has fallen to your side now, and he squeezes- you nearly gasp at the feeling. “I was a scrawny baby in that painting. Nobody wants to buy that.”

You giggle against him. “You were a cute scrawny baby, though.”

It’s not something you would have said all those years ago. You’d have never been caught dead admitting that you thought he was cute. But now… in the safety of the backyard, in the darkness, pressed against his side…

“You’re cuter now, though,” you say.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You nod confidently. He slips his other hand from his pocket. It comes up to hold your jaw, gently. You hold your breath. He tilts your face up towards his.

“You’re prettier than ever,” he says, softly. “And I thought you reached the limit a long time ago.”

His lips are on yours within seconds, then. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you. By now, you know it probably won’t be the last. You let it happen, opening up for him. You slip your tongue past the warmth of his lips. His hand cups the side of your face as that warm feeling melts across your skin, the one that only he brings. You’ve been searching for a replacement since the last time this happened. Nothing comes close.

He uses the arm around you to pull you into his lap. You reach up and thread your fingers into his shirt, something to anchor you in the swirling feeling of him on and around and against you again. His hands fall to your hips, trying to do the same. He kisses like Australian summers, hot and long and sunny and bright orange. His touch leaves sparks behind everywhere he goes.

When you finally break away for air, his hair is a mess, and your lips feel puffy. He grins sheepishly at you. You chew on your lower lip as he brushes a finger over the arch of your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says. Always apologizing. You know he’s not sorry for kissing you. He’s sorry for how this will eventually end.

“Don’t be,” you say, quietly. “Please. Let’s just…”

He nods, then swallows before he says, “okay.”

Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple. You giggle at the feeling and let your fingertips dance against his face and neck. He muffles another laugh into your skin.

“Missed you,” you say again.

“I missed you too,” he says.

He walks you inside. You think about inviting him to stay the night, but you think that might be a bad idea. Instead, you give him a hug and watch him walk out the front door, into the only black and blue night.

…..

You meet up with him and a few other friends at a bar a couple nights later. You walk over from your house with Lizzy, who either doesn’t notice your nervous energy, or is nice enough to just not mention it. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s the people you’ve known for years, and it’s just Oscar. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Except for the still fading hickey he left on your neck, covered by strategically placed hair, and the way you feel his lips on your every time you close your eyes. Yeah. There’s that, sure.

The bar is crowded even before all of your friends arrive. Oscar comes in with Leo, having been out all day while you and Lizzy had to work. There are at least five people there who are acting like they haven’t seen Oscar in years, even though they were all at the party a few nights ago. You try your best to hide your jealousy. He has other friends. He probably likes them way more than he likes you, anyways.

He finds you later, standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, warm shoulder pressed to yours, elbows on the countertop. He smiles softly at you when you turn to him, and he leans into you.

“Hi,” he says. “I was looking for you.”

You want to laugh, because surely he wasn’t, but- there’s something so serious in his eyes. You lean into him in response, just to watch him raise his brows and smile wider. There’s a little mole on the swell of his cheek. You want to reach out and touch it. You refrain.

“I’m here,” you finally say, nodding towards your crowd of friends in the corner. “You’ve been a busy man tonight.”

He sighs, heavily, like it’s been difficult for him. It probably has been. He’s a quiet person in general. Not one to really like being the center of attention. You wonder if he’s exhausted as easily by it now as he was before, or if his years of podium celebrations have dulled the sensation a bit. Wonder how much of your Oscar is still left, under the facade.

He chews on his lower lip lightly, and you smile softly. That’s an old habit. That’s one you recognize. You also think of the night by the firepit, how you’d pulled that same lip between your own teeth, and the noise he’d made in response. Your face grows warm.

The bartender finally turns to you. Oscar orders for both of you, because of course he knows what you’re drinking. Then you follow him back to the crowd of your friends. When he grabs your hand to pull you along, you don’t complain. You just squeeze his fingers in response.

You stumble out of the bar with him, hand in hand, hours later. He’s insistent on walking you and Lizzy home, claiming that Leo won’t be enough to keep an eye on the both of you. You’re just happy to have his fingers locked with yours, to have his shoulder brushing against you as you both sway down the sidewalk. It’s comfortably warm outside, and you hum to yourself as you walk, listening to Lizzy and Leo arguing about nothing important.

Your journey home is stopped by Oscar, who stops in his tracks suddenly. You turn back to look at him. He’s staring across the street, where there’s a neon sign lit up in the window, the word Pizza flashing like a beacon. You laugh as he tugs on your hand.

“No, come on, we’re going home,” Lizzy calls out.

“I want pizza,” Oscar says in response, deadpan.

You turn to your roommates and shrug. “He wants pizza.”

Lizzy sighs. “I want to go home.”

“You guys go,” Oscar says with a dismissive wave. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Less than ten minutes later, your legs are stuck to the vinyl of the pizza parlor booth, knee bumping Oscar’s underneath the table. There’s a pepperoni pizza between the two of you, far too much for you to actually finish.

“Yknow,” he says, waving a piece of pizza around in the air. “Logan dips his pizza in ranch.”

You laugh at the disgusted look on Oscar’s face, at the way he says ranch. You take a sip of the soda he insisted on buying for you, along with the food.

“Bet it’s good,” you admit, shrugging.

Oscar wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a picky eater, but… isn’t pizza good enough on its own?”

You shrug, pretending to think deeply about it. Except that Oscar knows you well enough to know you’re pretending, so he starts laughing. And then you follow suit, doubled over in the booth, grease from the pizza on your fingertips.

As his laughter fades, he presses his knee against yours. It feels deliberate.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says.

Something twists in your chest. “Missed you, too, Osc.”

Your friendship goes through cycles. When he’s here, it’s almost like nothing has changed. But when he’s gone… the two of you aren’t good at long distance friendship. Or maybe, really, you’re better at it than most. You can go months without talking and pick up like nothing has changed. The tough part comes when he’s here, within reach, and then he leaves. That’s the moment you dread, the part you don’t handle well. It would probably be easier if you stopped kissing him every time he came home. But you look across the table, and his lips are soft and cherry pink and slightly shiny from the pizza, and you know that would be impossible.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, because you know he needs to hear it even if he already knows it. “I was worried that maybe now that you’re in F1, you’d gotten too important for… us.”

You really mean me, but it feels a bit too much to say out loud. You think he knows, anyways. He reaches a hand across the table, lays it over top of yours. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“I could never,” he says, eyes drilling right into yours. “Promise.”

He walks you home, hand in hand. The front porch light is on, probably Lizzie’s doing. He insists on coming all the way up to the front door, which is sweet and does absolutely awful things to your brain. Because he’s right there, his hand in yours, and you’re fumbling for your house key in your purse, but really you’re thinking about kissing him. When his fingers squeeze yours, you give up on the key and turn to him.

He knows it’s coming, you think. When you cup his face in your hand, he’s already leaning in.

The kiss is softer, messier, than the other night. You’re both still a little tipsy. But it’s less frantic, more comfortable. His other hand falls to your hip, and you lean back against the front door to your house and melt into him. He presses against you, warm, firm muscle against every curve of your body. You don’t want this to end. You want to wrap your arms around his neck and beg him to stay right here, to never leave, to come back to you.

He pulls away first. You try to kiss him again, hands tugging at his hips as he pants through reddened lips.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles.

You shake your head no. “Not that drunk.”

He leans in close and kisses your cheek. “This is a bad idea.”

That makes your gut twist, makes your chest hurt. You roll your eyes and turn away so he won’t see the way your tears well up. He’s right, you know, but it hurts to hear it.

“I care about you. A lot,” he says, quietly. “And I… if things were different…”

“I know,” you say, because you do know. “Yeah. Bad idea. You should go.”

You leave him standing on the porch and disappear inside the house. When you lay down in bed, you lay awake for hours, swirls of color dancing behind your eyelids.

…..

The next night, you find yourself in your studio, alone. There’s paint on the canvas in front of you- not the good stuff you’d normally use, but the cheap kind you keep on hand for moments like these. Children’s finger paint, runny and thin and non-toxic. It’s running down the palette and dripping down your wrist. You’re in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and frankly, you’d probably be wearing less if you didn’t know your roommates were due home eventually.

Oscar’s leaving tomorrow morning. At this point, the last you’ll see of him for a while will be when you left him on the porch. You swipe a bit of blue on the canvas. You’re not really painting anything, just trying to put color to the feelings. He’s leaving and he’ll be gone for a while again, and things are weird again, because he kissed you and then you kissed him and now he has to leave. You add a swipe of orange. Papaya, you think, gritting your teeth.

You wonder if things really would’ve been different. If he’d stayed, would you be together? Would he love you the way you want him to? Maybe. Or maybe, no matter the universe, this is how it ends. Maybe there’s always a bigger dream waiting. Maybe you’re not enough for him.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s red paint on your fingertips.

“Busy,” you call out.

Someone sighs. You freeze, hand halfway to the canvas. It doesn’t sound like Lizzy or Leo.

“It’s me,” Oscar says. “Can I come in?”

You huff. “Sure.”

He opens the door and blinks owlishly at the sight of you. You know you probably look crazy. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening. Paint runs off the palette and onto your leg.

“Rough day?” He asks, because he knows.

You laugh bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a sigh. “I’m not sorry.”

“No?”

“No,” you say. “I’m just… frustrated.”

Frustrated that he gets to live out his dream while you wither away in the hot Australian sun, waiting for your chance. Frustrated that every time he comes back it sends you into a tailspin. Frustrated that he’s leaving again. Frustrated with yourself for kissing him, frustrated that you want to do it again.

He crosses the room and stands next to you. You watch his shaky fingers drag through the mess on the palette. Then he reaches out and drags them through the mess on the canvas. He’s the only one you’d let do that, the only one who’d be brave enough to even try.

You follow suit, dip a finger in the yellow and smear it in a line over the canvas. Oscar’s finger falls to your wrist, scoops the bright blue from your skin and draws a squiggle with it. Cadmium Yellow and Phthalo Blue mix on the canvas and turn into envy green. Oscar dips his hand into the Cobalt Violet and draws a line of it up your arm like a bruise. You laugh and pick up the Ultramarine Blue to match the empty feeling in your chest. It leaves behind rivers on his cheeks when you hold his face in your hand and kiss him. Gently, first, and then with all the color you can muster up. You drop the palette on the floor. It splatters everywhere.

You wonder how you’d go about painting this. Red for the brush of his tongue, the bite of his teeth against your neck. Blue for the way his fingers dig into your hips. Bright pink for the way he moans into your mouth, breathy and broken and oh-so-lovely. The way you drop to your knees is lavender purple. The feeling of him heavy on your tongue, the way he sighs over it, is sunflower yellow.

He gets paint in your hair when he pulls you off of him, and then he sinks to his knees with you. You think about suggesting the couch, but then he’s pulling you all the way down onto the floor and you can’t bring yourself to protest. He cleans the paint from his hands first, always a gentleman. Then his fingers slip into you in a rush of an orangey-yellow feeling, one that turns more and more pink with each press of his hand, each swipe of his thumb against your clit. And when he finally presses his cock into you, it’s the brightest burst of sky blue behind your eyelids.

The colors melt together in your mind. You’d never be able to put this onto a canvas- not the way he breathes so heavy in your ear, the way his fingers drag against your skin, the way you shake as you clench around him and he spills himself inside of you. There’s no way you’d get the color right.

You drag him upstairs afterwards, both of you giggling, and you gasp when you hear the front door open just as you pull him into your bedroom. You head for the attached bathroom first, drag him under the hot spray of water and watch the rainbow mix into brown and wash away down the drain. There’s paint crusted in his hair and yours- you do your best to scrub it out as he leans heavily against you.

You don’t even bother asking if he wants to stay. You just drag him to the bed and toss him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants you think are Leo’s. He doesn’t question it. You can hear your roommates downstairs talking. You wonder if they know.

Oscar flops onto the bed and reaches for you, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. You go easily, willingly, eagerly. He wraps you up in his arms and presses his face into your neck.

“I…” he starts, then cuts himself off.

“I know,” you murmur, because you do. “Me too.”

I love you. I wish it was different. I would stay if I could. I’ll miss you.

You wake up in the morning to his lips against your cheek. You drag yourself out of bed to walk him to the door. Your chest aches, and the feeling is a color that you can’t quite put your finger on. Someone’s there to pick him up and take him to the airport, take him far away for a long time.

He kisses you on the forehead and squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.

You nod and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. See you soon.”

The ache he leaves behind is a muddy mix of all your favorite colors.

…..

Six months later, you stand in an art gallery full of people. Your paintings hang on the wall nearby. You sip your drink and try to pretend like you’re not waiting and watching their every little reaction. Like you’re not searching for validation in the faces of strangers.

It’s strange to have these paintings hung up for everyone to see. When others look at them, they see pretty landscapes or flowers or a simple still life. They don’t know the meaning of it all.

You step away to grab another drink, something to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. When you come back, the one person who might just see through the facade is standing there, staring, wide eyed.

You swallow tightly and walk up next to him, and let your shoulder bump into his. “You made it.”

Oscar’s eyes stay trained on the paintings, but he leans into you. “Of course I made it.”

You want to tell him that there’s no of course here, that you’d invited him without really expecting him to show up. You keep your mouth shut though. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he is here.

“What do you think?” You ask, quietly.

The truth is, of all the people in the gallery, his opinion is the one that matters most. You wonder what he sees when he looks at the canvases. Does he see the rays of sunlight on a table for what they truly are- a poor recreation of the sun on his skin? Does he realize that the deep purple of the plums in the still life matches the bruise on your knee that lasted for weeks after that night in the studio, the one you’d press your thumb into when your heart ached? There’s the painting of the orange lilies, color matched to the papaya of his car and race suit. There’s a painting of an empty table setting, a painting of a wide open blue sky over the backyard, and most telling of all, there’s the fabric study of his t-shirt, left behind, draped over the chair in the studio.

The collection is the closest thing to a portrait that you’ve done in years, even though there are no people in it. It’s the closest thing to a self portrait that you’ve ever done. Does he know?

His hand brushes against your elbow. He points at the empty plate on the empty table. “That’s how leaving felt for me, too, you know.”

You could cry, just knowing he understands. Instead, you nod and lean into him. You have people to talk to, art critics to impress and studio owners to try to convince, but the truth is that Oscar will always be the only one who truly understands. You stay with him for just a moment longer.

He stays the whole time, even as people begin to leave and the catering staff starts clearing the tables of food and drinks. You find him after you’ve had the last of your conversations with the important people. He’s standing near the door, looking only slightly out of place, scrolling on his phone.

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you say.

He shrugs and smiles. “I know. I wanted to. There’s a pub down the street, it’s one of my favorites. D’you have time for a drink?”

You nod and pout. “Maybe some food too? M’starving.”

He nods eagerly in agreement. He leads you out of the gallery, holds the door for you and everything. The cool London night air hits you like a blast as you step outside.

Right. You’re not in Australia.

It’s a strange feeling, being here with Oscar- his chosen home for all these years, and yet it’s the first time you’re seeing it with him. He reaches for your hand on the sidewalk and tucks it into his jacket pocket, right alongside his. The pub isn’t far- when you get there, it’s crowded and warm, and he helps you slip your jacket off your shoulders. You smile at him in thanks. When he smiles back, your heart skips a beat.

Ten minutes later, you’re at the bar, beers in front of each of you and a pile of chips between the two of you. Your knee is pressed against his under the countertop. He’s smiling at you, his face lit up golden yellow in the inky gray light of the bar.

“So. What did you really think?” You ask, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head, almost disbelievingly. “The same thing I always think. Your paintings are amazing. It was like I could feel it, you know? Like I’m staring at, I dunno, fucking plums, but feeling something completely different.”

You nod, chest feeling tight. You’re unsure of what to even say. How to explain to him that maybe he’s the only one who feels that, because all the paintings are about him. You think of the portrait you did all those years ago, sitting in your storage, and how it doesn’t even begin to do him justice.

“How much?” He asks, and you blink widely. “I wanna buy them. I want- yeah.” He has this dreamy, hazy look on his face. “Can I buy them? Or even just one-“

“Osc,” you murmur. You reach out and press your hand over his on the countertop. “You don’t have to do that.”

He tilts his head at you, and when he speaks, his voice is almost raw. “I meant what I said, you know. The plate. That’s how I’ve felt. All of the art, it’s… you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But they’re not for sale.”

He deflates. You squeeze his hand and try not to grin too widely. “Right,” he says. “No, of course, sorry. Just thought it might be cool to have some of them in my apartment. We could get prints made, right?”

“Sure. “ you pause and take a deep breath. “The gallery wants to extend them,” you say, and his face lights up again. “The curator spoke to me after the show. She wants to keep them up for a few months.”

“That’s amazing,” he gushes, leaning over and pulling you into a hug so tight it almost topples you off the barstool. “Oh, wow, baby, that’s- and I could go see them, then, even when you’re gone?”

You laugh against his chest. “Yeah. Sure. Or, um…”

He freezes, the hand that had been sweeping up your back stuck in place. He’s holding his breath. You might be too.

“They offered me an artist’s residency,” you blurt out. “They want me to come stay for six months, maybe longer if it goes well. Work out of their studio, show art, teach some classes.”

Oscar’s voice is breathy and high pitched when he says, “here?”

You nod against his chest. “I mean. I’d have to find an apartment. And move all my stuff. And probably break Leo and Lizzy’s hearts.”

“But you’d be here,” he says. “Here, like… it took me twenty minutes to get here tonight. And you’d- this is what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”

You nod, eyes burning with tears. “Would that be okay?”

Oscar laughs- you feel it more than hear it, in the shake of his shoulders and the rumble in his chest. “Yeah. I could live with that, I think.”

He kisses you in the bar, nearly pulls you off the stool with the force of it. You kiss him right back, bracing your hand on the countertop, not a care in the world who sees it. Fireworks light up behind your eyes like splashes of paint.

…..

There’s not a sunroom you can turn into a studio in your new apartment in London. It’s a smaller space, and you end up doing most of your painting at the main studio anyways. But Oscar is there, perched on the edge of a table watching you paint whenever he can. And in the entryway of your new place, you hang up the old portrait of him, right next to a photo of the two of you taken just after you moved to London.

In the photo, his arm is around your shoulders, his lips against your temple. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend officially seconds after it was taken, but there’s a light in both of your eyes that tells you it was inevitable, really. It’s something in the way he’s smiling, in the way his cheeks burn red and his lips are pink and the way you smile at him, too. Like you’ve both known it all along. That the two of you have always been complementary colors, just waiting for the right moment.

a/n: been working on this one for a while finally got it! hope you enjoyed thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

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sundaycentric · 6 months

Note

I need fluff can you write yandere dan heng and if you do 2 Neuvillete (idk how to spell his name 😭)

Sorry if this goes over the rules you could ignore I loveee yandere dan heng hehe

(separate yandere) dan heng & neuvillette x gn reader

content ★ headcanons, minific, yandere, not proof read, gn reader, reader has hair in dan heng's part, sfw, fluff?

note ★ i love yandere hcs.. idk what it is i just eat them up every single time. but sorry for my recent inactivity ?!?! i rushed these a bit tho.. hope theyre still good </3 mainly just put my thoughts down :(

DAN HENG ★

Dan Heng knows what it's like. He knows what it's like to be locked up, forced away from the outside world. He knows what it's like to be alone and scared. He knows what it's like to have someone watch your every move. Dan Heng knows what it would be like for you. Yet, he can't shake the thoughts and desires to take you.

Dan Heng knows it's wrong. He can sympathize, which is probably why he tried to deny it all in the first place. However, he's been so selfless. He accepted punishment without complaint. He helps around the Astral Express so much. It's hard for Dan Heng to not be selfish this once and indulge in his love.

That is if he can even call it love. Dan Heng tried to deny his feelings for you first. He knew how hard it would be, even without expecting the obsession to come along with it. His draconic heritage makes him more possessive than the average lover. They hoard what they love, and it includes their mates as well.

Dan Heng can't avoid it entirely, though. Being without you feels like an even worse punishment than his banishment. With you, he feels something he has never felt before. Dan Heng can no longer deny his love for you, even if it may be more than that.

You might notice him giving extra attention to you. It is never anything big, but rather small things. Dan Heng looks at you a bit longer. He smiles slightly when you talk. He stands closer to you. He won't flinch away when you grab his hand. He'll let you into the Archives. Dan Heng will treat you differently.

He is still silent as ever, but he is more relaxed around you. At the same time, he feels more tense, though. Dan Heng doesn't want to push you away. He'll take his time with you.

In his dragon form, his thoughts are even worse. It is harder to suppress his desire for you. Especially when he already begins to subconsciously think of you as his mate. This is when things get a bit more severe. He's less controlled.

Dan Heng's tail might loosely wrap around your ankle as if you'd run. He'll glare at people he thinks are too close. He'll only go where you go. He'll favor you and always find a way to defend you. Things like this are much more noticeable as his love grows.

The Archives have a lot more entries about you. Your physical description, personality, hobbies, interests, and moods all have their own extensive pages. When he can't be with you, he'll simply write or read about you. Dan Heng will find himself reading over your information if he can't go to sleep.

At this point, Dan Heng knows it is more than love. He knows he is obsessed with you. But he doesn't care all that much. He feels something, something that isn't cold. Something that feels good and warm in his heart, even if it is terribly wrong in his brain. He's given up on trying to suppress it. He simply can't, so Dan Heng embraces it. He embraces you. He loves you.

If you do end up loving Dan Heng as well, he will be overjoyed. You can't see it on his face, but the way his tail tightly coils around your waist tells you otherwise. He isn't too big on physical touch normally, but he will always have some kind of touch on you.

He'll get a bit overbearing. He doesn't want to see you hurt. It's dangerous trailblazing. Dan Heng needs you.

If you find out the extent of his love, he might finally lose the rest of his self-restraint. You'd probably run. He doesn't want that. He won't let that happen. You're his now.

Dan Heng gently ran his fingers through your hair, playing with it. You sat down in front of him with his tail securely wrapped around your waist. Your back snugly pressed against his chest. Both of you breathed slowly, enjoying the moment.

"Dan Heng?" You asked. He did not respond. He only continued to mess with your hair. You couldn't see his expression, how he looked at you with utter love in his eyes. He was thinking.

"Dan Heng..?" You question softly. This time, Dan Heng seems to have heard your words. His fingers stop for a moment as he blinks.

"Yes, what is it?" His fingers resume once he speaks. They softly pull through any tangles, Dan Heng paying extra attention to make sure he doesn't hurt you. His tail lightly twitched around your waist.

"I was thinking about going on the Luofu with March and..." You didn't get to finish your sentence as Dan Heng's grip on your hair tightened. It hurt a bit, as his fist pulled on your hair unknowingly. Dan Heng's voice came next.

"No," he said. Dan Heng's voice was far colder than it usually was. He sounded angry and disappointed and upset. It was impossible for you to turn to see his expression with his hand holding your head straight. Dan Heng repeated, "No. It's too dangerous. The.. Stellaron Hunters are there. He is there. If something happens to you, you will never be able to best him in a fight. You need to stay here, where it's safe. Besides, March and the others don't need you. They can do this alone."

Dan Heng's words came out harsher than he was meaning to, but he was too busy worrying about you to realize. He shuddered slightly, imagining what it would be like if you were Blade's next victim. It wasn't hard to figure out Dan Heng is attached to you, so perhaps he would go for you to get to Dan Heng. The thought sickened him. He never wanted to see you in pain like he had to be. Slowly, his grip loosened as he went back to playing with your hair.

However, you were also a bit uneasy. Dan Heng's tone was off, and he had been acting weird recently. You spoke after a few minutes of silence, "I'm feeling tired... I'm going to go to sleep in my room now, Heng."

"Hm," Dan Heng hums, "No. I think you will sleep in here from now on."

NEUVILLETTE ★

Neuvillette also knows it's wrong. What he stays up at night thinking of is illegal. It goes against everything he does in life. Yet, he would never think it would feel so good.

Neuvillette has never been a selfish man. For hundreds of years, he upheld justice for others. He was always fair and righteous, even when it hurt. However, Neuvillette has never really wanted anything specific in the first place. Yes, he yearns to understand himself and others, but he has never felt that carnal desire to own something.

That is, until he met you of course. Suddenly, he felt something he'd never felt before. It was weird, bubbling in his chest sweetly. It made his heart ache with yearning. It almost felt a bit painful, but it was also so enjoyable. He wanted more of it.

You made him feel something he has yet to grasp. He may not understand emotions well, but he knows what certain ones are. But this, he does not know. You made Neuvillette feel something new. Something that made him feel a bit more alive. As if you were the purpose, the reason he was born.

Neuvillette tries to dismiss these thoughts, but it's hard. He must focus on his duties, but he often thinks of you in the moments between work. He knows it's wrong. But it doesn't feel bad. It feels good. So, is it really that wrong?

Neuvillette is still very busy, though. He will get the melusines to spy on you, which they happily accept. Neuvillette often tells them about you since he doesn't have anyone else he can tell. It's gotten to the point where alongside seeing Neuvillette as their father of sorts, they see you as a parent as well. Of course, they think, you must be the monsieur's spouse. They certainly have no issue with simply ensuring their 'parent's' safety, after all.

Neuvillette never corrects them. After all, it makes him feel warm inside. Marriage sounds nice. A legal contract, bounding you to each other forever. Suddenly, Neuvillette seems to pay more attention to marriage documents and trials related to it.

He will never say anything first. Ever. Even though Neuvillette wants you badly, he will not break his moral code and risk doing something irrational. He likely wouldn't either way, but he worries. Especially when it comes to you.

Neuvillette is very protective of you. He wasn't very big on touch, but now he likes to have some sort of contact with you. Holding your hand, arm, waist, finger, whatever it may be. It helps him make sure you're okay. It's been so long since he's felt affection like that, and he tries to get you to spoil him with it sometimes.

He loves it so much when you treat the melusines like they are your children. Maybe one day you can have children together. Whether it's biological or adoption, he doesn't care. Neuvillette wants to be with you however he can.

And once the prophecy kicks off entirely, you're never leaving his sight again. Even if you're not from Fontaine, there's still a risk and uncertainty. Neuvillette won't let you slip away. He can't. He'll pamper you, do whatever you ask of him (besides letting you go), but he just needs you to stay where he knows you're safe.

If you try to leave, then good luck. It'll be raining. Hard. You can barely even walk without getting soaked. It's never been this bad in Fontaine before.. but as soon as Neuvillette sees you again, it's unbearably sunny. The weather is quite extreme.

You're his mate after all. Why are you even trying to leave him, if you are? This is your home now. Neuvillette sighs, perhaps you're just nervous. It's okay, though. He figures you need to adjust.

He won't care if you find out how much he loves you. Why does it matter? Of course, he loves his mate.

"I forbid you," Neuvillette stares you down, "My dear, please, come back over here. I'd hate to request a guard to block the door."

You stop in your tracks, not doubting Neuvillette's words. You could feel his gaze burning into your skull. It scared you. He was incredibly powerful, and it would be best to comply with him, no?

You turned around. He smiled gently, "Good. Now come, sit back down, mon ange (my angel)."

You listen to him, slowly walking back towards him. You sit on the couch next to his desk before he sighs. The rain gets a bit harder.

"You know that's not your seat," he murmurs. And you know exactly what he means. Neuvillette waits for you to return to him, and sit on his lap—your seat. You do.

"There," Neuvillette breathes out on your neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into your neck. The rain alleviates, slowing. You shake a bit in his grasp, either from his breathing or your possible fear.

"Shh.. it's okay, mon cœur (my heart), is it that you're cold..?" Neuvillette asks sweetly, before holding you tighter. "I'll warm you up, my love. Just stay with me.."

His hands begin to rub circles into your back as he flips you over. Neuvillette isn't manhandling you roughly, but he does it with such ease. It may not be purposeful, but it's a reminder of just how much stronger he is than you. After all, he is a dragon. He uses his glove hand to gently push you against his chest. Neuvillette effectively trapped you in his warm grasp.

"Neuvillette.." You say softly, "There is no need to hold me like a lifeline."

He smiles but doesn't loosen his grip. "I beg to differ. After all, I don't think I could live without you, so you are my lifeline, no? My lifeline and my mate.."

Neuvillette's voice is longing. You won't be able to get out of this any time soon. The rain disappears alongside your smile (or frown).

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henneseyhoe · 4 months

Text

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

#fontaine x black reader #john boyega smut #x black oc #black oc #smut masterlist #masterlist #black!fem! reader #black!reader #black reader #black writer #black fanfiction #john boyega #they cloned tyrone fanfic #they cloned tyrone smut #tyrone x reader #smutty #henneseyhoe

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katsuizu-stuff · 5 months

Text

Katsuki Doesn’t Want To See Izuku Die

I genuinely wholeheartedly believe that one of Katsuki biggest fears when it comes with his relationship with Deku is that Katsuki does not under any circumstances want to see Deku die

I genuinely wholeheartedly one hundred percent stand by this and no one can change my mind

Any if you’re a person who still says What about what Bakugo said to Deku, “Take a swan dive off a roof of a building”? If you don’t know anything about character development then I feel sorry for you

Katsuki has had so much character development, just like any other MHA character, but Katsuki character development is beautiful and outstanding

And if you want to disagree then you can but a very big indicator about what I’m talking about is the hospital scene/moment in S6

Sato and Mineta are trying to hold him back because he’s injured he needs to recover and yet Katsuki is refusing to go back to his hospital room and rest

Katsuki is yelling at them “Shut up! Make me fight you and I’ll be even more likely to drop dead” to which Sato says, “Why do you have to be so stubborn about everything, dude? There’s nothing you can do to help right now.” along with Mineta “Didn’t you hear a word Sero said?” and he ends up thinking to himself “That bastard. If he dies, I’ll kill him”

And it’s even before this scene/moment that when Katsuki woke up he instantly remembered back to Deku almost getting stabbed to which he saved him along with the fact that he says “Deku” as well as when Katsuki asked about everyone else about their situation/conditions Sero refused to tell Katsuki about Deku first

Sero personally saved to tell Katsuki about Deku’s situation/condition because Sero knew he would’ve reacted the way Katsuki did

Katsuki ask, “Deku and Todoroki? Mr. Aizawa, Endeavor, and all the others. What happened to everybody?” to which Sero says, “I’ll tell you, ‘kay? But you gotta try to stay calm.”

Sero said he would tell Katsuki everything under one simple condition that Katsuki has to stay calm

And so Sero tells Katsuki everything, “Todoroki’s burned bad and Mr. Aizawa has some serious injuries, but they’ll both pull through. Everyone else has regained consciousness except…” Sero then stops for a moment and continues telling Katsuki about Izuku “The doctors said Midoriya hasn’t shown any signs of waking up.”

Sero as a fellow classmate and a friend towards Katsuki knows that Katsuki cares for Izuku in one way or another hence Sero telling Katsuki about Izuku last

There are of course other moments that proof that Katsuki doesn’t want to see Izuku die

It may seem silly or simply sound silly but Katsuki doesn’t even want to see Izuku die mentally and emotionally either

When Izuku left U.A. Katsuki states that this is the worst case scenario. That no one besides him truly knows Izuku to an extent as much as Katsuki does

Which is why Katsuki looks so relieved that he finally found Izuku. Katsuki found Izuku before he ‘died’ not physically but mentally and emotionally. Katsuki found Izuku before all of Izuku’s hope can fall/die into ash

If we continue then there is also the moment in the camp arc in S3

Izuku is running to save Katsuki knowing he is beat up to a point where Aizawa says that Izuku is only running on adrenaline nothing else

Once Izuku comes across with Katsuki and Todoroki his one thing on his mind is to protect Katsuki by any means necessary

And then the moment the L.O.V reveal that they still have Katsuki Izuku still has in mind to save Katsuki even if it means that Izuku has to break himself even more than he already is

And Katsuki fears that more than he feared to be taken away at that very moment he doesn’t says “Stay back… Deku” just to simply say it

Katsuki has fear written on his face and his eyes for what Izuku would do next

Katsuki’s body moved on it own for the exact same reason Izuku’s did Katsuki didn’t want to see Izuku die before his eyes not when Katsuki is so close to him. Katsuki’s body, his mind, his soul, his heart, his over all existence didn’t want to see Izuku get stabbed to where it could be Izuku’s last battle and his last breath

Even in the second MHA movie Izuku is beat up his arms are busted and when Izuku calls out to Katsuki the way Katsuki sees Izuku is heartbreaking I mean just look at his face the way Katsuki’s eyes go wide knowing that Izuku could die along with his true dream of wanting to be a hero

And even in Katsuki last moments his only thought was Izuku not his family, not his classmates/friends, not his teacher’s it was only Izuku adding on to this Katsuki was so shocked to hearing ShigAFO says that the only thing that’s interesting about Katsuki is that Katsuki is the closest to Izuku than anybody else

Katsuki doesn’t want to see Deku die in any way shape or form not physically, not mentally, not emotionally Katsuki doesn’t even want Izuku’s dream of being a hero to die Katsuki doesn’t want that to happen at all

#katsuki truly cares for izuku #Katsuki doesn’t want to see Izuku die #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk rant

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness.

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally.

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by.

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth.

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you.

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave.

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you.

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again.

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive.

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to.

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure.

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you.

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you.

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands.

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts.

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you.

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you.

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop.

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper.

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you.

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart.

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again.

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all.

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start?

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say.

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him.

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.”

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same.

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back.

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x you #daredevil #charlie cox #from the vault #bonus fic #inspired by: now that we don't talk

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saerins · 3 months

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⋆୨ chapter six ୧˚ redefines in every way what love is

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter five - if not for this love of mine <> next: chapter seven - till forever falls apart ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 13.2k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, manipulation, mostly from sae’s (& mirin’s) pov | notes: okay i’ve finally finished it !! sorry for the super long break but real life had a chokehold on me (aka my job sucks) </3 anyway ! hope you enjoy sae’s pov , heh he’s so bad at relationships but sorry i love him <3 next chapter should be the last so ^_^

Sae & Mirin; 17.

It was a peculiar feeling.

Up until that point, whatever interest Sae had in life centred around soccer. Around being the best. Needless to say, when his parents weren’t too happy about both their sons not wanting to take over the family business, Sae took the brunt of it all.

His fingers idly traced circles around the injury on his ankle—the injury caused by another player perpetrated by his parents. It was honestly laughable; the extent to which his parents would go to to have him submit to their will.

“Hey, handsome and gloomy.”

There was that voice he loved to hear. It was silly how easy it was for a special someone to make him smile. A warm pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck from behind, pressing her weight down on top of him.

“Yes, pretty?”

Mirin laughed, that smile lighting up her features. Her lips pressed a kiss against his cheek before she settled beside him.

They were sitting on top of the school building—after lessons, because Mirin had strict parents who would kill her if she ever skipped class.

“Look at you, moping up here all on your own, ignoring your girlfriend,” she mused, body swaying from side to side before her head eventually rested on his shoulder. A sigh left her lips, the graduation looming upon them catching up to her.

Sae chuckled, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of her head, both of them relishing in the moment. There was an uneasiness that pressed in the air around them, but it was one that Sae chose to ignore. Mirin had a lot of things on her mind that she liked to keep to herself, and this was something that happened very often. It could be because of her overbearing parents, but Sae never minded that.

“Sae, can I ask you something?”

It was a timid tone that he wasn’t used to, but he let it slide.

“Anything.”

“Ten years from now, would you still love me the same?” It was a question that made Sae snort, because he didn’t realise Mirin would talk about the future. She wasn’t one to do so. She nudged him on the arm, laughing along with him because it was hard for her to be all down when she was around him. “Hey, I’m serious, ten years from now, would you still love this annoying, hard headed girlfriend of yours?”

At that time, it wasn’t a hard question. At that time, all Sae could see and care about was Mirin. There was never a doubt in his mind.

So he looked her in the eye, his pinky finger looped around hers.

“Ten years from now, huh? Think I would’ve married you by then.”

Mirin smiled, the most genuine one she ever let loose in her life. Only because at that moment, she felt his sincerity. The only person who treated her with any sort of decency in the way that she needed. In the face of her strict family, with Sae, she had nothing to fear. He was all she needed.

“I’ll hold you to it, Itoshi Sae.”

Sae chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mirin on the lips. “Whatever you say, Mrs Itoshi.”

A few months ago.

The news was broken to him like he was watching a news program and the news anchor was reporting on some trivial matter.

As always, his father said such a thing oh so casually, eating away at his lamb chop and then swiftly switching the subject to wedding preparations, as if his son was a tool that he could command at will.

“What did you just say?”

Because surely Sae heard him wrongly? Surely his father did not just mention that he was to be married to a stranger he barely knew?

This was his life, wasn’t it?

“I expect you to behave, do you understand?” His father responds, ignoring Sae’s question completely. He knew his son heard him, he said it loud and clear after all. “Anyway, we’ll pay fifty-fifty and—”

“No.”

There was a threat in his father’s glare, but it was one that Sae was way too used to.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care why you need this stupid marriage to go through but I’m not doing it.”

It was just laughable; there wasn’t any panic evident in his father’s expression. Sae should’ve known, he could already feel what was coming. If anything, his father was always prepared. It was plans on top of plans, a contingency for every situation.

“Either do this, or I’ll get Rin instead. It’ll be a pain, but don’t think I won’t do it.”

There were a lot of things Sae hated his father for, but what he hated the most was how Rin had to be brought into the conversation as a threat whenever he didn��t get his way. He knew it was the only way to control Sae, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Honey! Stop speaking like that… Sae, please try to understand, this will be a huge opportunity. It’s the least you owe us, hm?”

And Sae didn’t even want to think about his mother. The one who always went along with everything because she was in love with the money she married into. The one who always used faux concern as a tool to ease Sae into his father’s plans.

In the end, neither of them cared for their kids. They were only seen as heirs. Like they owed them for being born. That they were only supposed to unconditionally go along with whatever orders they were given without a second thought. They wanted robots more than actual children, it seemed.

“You lost your shot, do you want Rin to lose his too?”

It was almost all too clear who sabotaged Sae’s chance at being a pro footballer. All it took was a single moment of disobedience from Sae and sponsorship of an entire year’s worth of tuition to one of his rivals to get his leg too injured to play in comfort.

As much as it sucked, all three of them knew Sae’s answer. And just like that, his father was victorious.

“Besides, Y/N seems to be excited for this,” his mother said, trying to switch the subject.

“I’m not fucking marrying her. I don’t even know her.” The words flew out of his mouth before he even realised it.

Maybe it had something to do with Mirin. With that rumour he heard going around that she was either already back in Japan or she was coming back soon. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Sae had been waiting for her this whole time, that she was the only one he ever loved.

Of course, none of that would change his parents’ minds. Consuming your family’s company would bring them a ton of uplift that could sustain their business for many years to come, something a money-greedy businessman would go to extreme lengths to get. So it didn’t matter if Mirin’s family could also bring in benefits in terms of cooperation—it would never amount to yours.

And it was wrong. It was wrong of Sae to vent all of his hatred to the fact that you existed, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Why did you have to exist?

“Maybe we should just pull Rin out then, get him to come back here and handle all this.” His father knew not to back down.

“Sae, be a good boy and listen to us, okay? How about this—if it ever gets too bad, we’ll look into a divorce in the future, hm?” His mother was just useless, but she did at least consider how he could get out of it. Even if it would prove to be difficult in the future.

Giving up entirely, Sae walked out of the front door. There was no way out of it, for now. Not without consequences. Dire ones. For Rin.

Pulling out Oliver’s contact, Sae hit the call button, with Oliver picking up right as he got into a cab.

“Meet you guys at our usual. I need a fucking drink.”

Day of the wedding.

To say that Sae had cold feet would be an understatement.

His marriage to you would be within the next few hours. After what, a couple months of informing him that they’d arranged him to marry the daughter of their close university friends? And they left a very not-so-subtle hint that they’d force Rin back to marry her if Sae didn’t comply.

Sae realised that your family’s company rivals his own, but who would’ve thought that their sudden yield to the Itoshis wanting to buy the company would result in so much shit being passed onto Sae himself?

There were options presented to him to meet you beforehand. All of which you had agreed to (or so his parents said) and all of which he had declined. He really didn’t have the intention of playing nice with you, or acting like he cared about you. To Sae, all you were was someone standing in between the possibility of him and Mirin.

But he did see you as you walked to the venue all on your own. Without a car or your parents, dressed in a loose white sleeveless top and jeans, buying a pack of tissues from the old man across the road, giving him entirely too much money for a three-pack and then refusing the change.

Teal eyes continued observing you as the old man bowed in gratitude, and your demeanour suggested that it probably wasn’t the first time you were giving money out like charity. Sae noticed the pair of half moon crescents as you smiled, the way it lit up your entire face.

If he thought hard enough, maybe he could remember that one time you saw each other when you were kids. Just that once. He was five. You were four. He vaguely remembered you excitedly chattering away to him about something. Sae doubted you remembered any of that though. It was only once and even he didn’t recall anything about it until today.

Tearing his eyes away from you, he walked away from the ledge of the window at his dressing room, sitting on the edge of the bed, idly staring at his phone, at the messages blowing it up, mostly of Oliver and Otoya in the groupchat, saying how Mirin was actually back.

If there was one thing his friends were good at, it was detective work that they didn’t need to do. Because by now, Sae didn’t want to know.

As much as he hated his circumstances, as much as he didn’t like this situation, he was going to be a married man soon. As much as he didn’t want to, he would rather forget about Mirin sooner than later. It would only serve more hurt if he chose the latter anyway.

Still, false hope wasn’t what he wanted to give you. There was nothing that he could think of that would persuade him to love anyone else but her. That was exactly why he found himself outside your dressing room, waiting to speak to you.

Your sister was with you, and Sae kept his thoughts to himself; he remembered your earlier smile. You were the prettier one in his eyes. That didn’t change what he had to do regardless. And both of you are similar in a frustrating way—both of you like to mask your troubles with your smiles.

Maybe you didn’t want this either, then?

“Hi, um, it’s nice to meet you.”

You sounded like the most awkward person in the world. Not that it mattered. Maybe the awkward distance between the two of you would work in his favour then.

“I wanted to set things straight before we go through with anything.”

Your expression wasn’t one of happiness to begin with, but the moment he said his piece, your face looked like all the blood drained from it. Sae averted his gaze. He didn’t like hurting anyone, and surely he didn’t care for you just yet, but this was better than giving you any sort of hope.

He needed to keep it up. Even after today. Tonight, tomorrow and everyday. Until he could see that you understand where this marriage would go; absolutely nowhere, but that both of you had to stay anyway.

But your parents had impeccable timing, coming over to the room right as he was exiting. That just meant he had to entertain your family for a few more seconds, nothing too difficult. He had been dealing with his father for his whole life after all.

“So, this is the first time you’re meeting our Y/N right? What do you think, son?” Your father sounded like his father when he was trying to play nice. Suddenly it made sense that they would be in cahoots to force their kids together.

“Your daughter is…” Sae lost himself in thought for a while, thinking back to that smile he saw on you, that genuine smile when you were helping someone. Not this fake one you have plastered on to make it seem like everything was okay. You had no obligation to cover for his actions but you did it anyway. “Pretty.”

And even prettier when she’s actually smiling, he thought to himself as he retreated back to his own dressing room.

Later on during the wedding reception, Sae tried his best to act the part of a happy husband. It was hard though, considering how stiff and awkward you were. You really didn’t have talent for being an actress. He let slip a few harsh reminders, but he was careful not to get too into it—last thing he needed was for you to cry.

You were nothing to him. Nothing but the one he had to marry to get his parents off him and his brother’s back.

So why did he feel a tinge of something when he caught your best friend staring? Mikage Reo, not a bad catch himself, and he had been your best friend since elementary school, if Sae recalled correctly.

That was all he could think about when he stormed back to the dressing room, wantonly irritated by his father and mildly annoyed by your concern. The only reason he could think of for being angry was the lingering feelings of an unresolved first love.

The only one he thought he would marry, would watch as she walked down the aisle like a princess out of a fairytale. The only one who taught him love and gave him the most treasured memories of his youth. The only one who could, at this moment, receive his kindness while everyone else would be dead in his eyes.

And of course the universe would perpetuate such a connection; his phone buzzed with notifications from Mirin. An almost empty thread opened up, and he was reminded of when he tried to forget her when she dated another guy while she was overseas. But how could he really forget her when she came back and told him she couldn’t forget about him either? That if it wasn’t too much, if he could wait for her to come back?

Sae won’t deny that there was a mix of emotions about it, that Karasu had told him many times before he thought she was just leading him on, that she wanted a comfortable failsafe for when she inevitably came back and didn’t want to be alone.

That was the key reason why they drifted.

And now, she came back. She came back and she didn’t get her invite because Sae threw it in the trash because even if he didn’t know you, it was common sense that he couldn’t invite Mirin—not when she was the only person capable of changing his mind. Not when he knew she wouldn’t be afraid to voice herself.

Sae didn’t particularly like you, but he wasn’t going to deliberately hurt you that way. He was sure he would upset you in many other ways, unintentionally, but he told himself he wouldn’t do that to you.

As he looked at her chat thread, at his possible responses—how could i ever forget? and i wish it was you and many more he didn’t have the energy to type out—Sae swallowed the lump in his throat. There was a battle going on in his head; the one that knew what was right and the one that wanted to go with his heart.

He succumbed to both.

Staring at his i miss you, he started to remember how hard you tried to keep up with him earlier that day, how you probably tried to stay at his good side.

With his head in his hands, he felt the familiar flow of tears threatening to unveil—it was a hard decision but he had to make it.

That was it. Sae had decided. He had to let go of Mirin and whatever promises they made.

She had to stay in the past.

As he looked at her nickname on his phone, he wished he could will the memories away. Even as he saw her response. Even as he knew the way she told him she missed him too would haunt him for a good while.

Goodbye.

Stepping into the house you two would share felt more than just a little uneasy. Both of you had never been in the same room before today and now your parents expected the both of you to just be okay living together.

Maybe it was a little too much of Sae to just take the master bedroom and banish you to the other one, but it had been a long day and he really wasn’t a saint. He had expected you to argue back but you didn’t, and that was fine with him—maybe once he cleared his head he could think of ways to make it so things were fairer to you but not now.

Not when he was a mix of emotions just threatening to explode.

It was especially perplexing when he got into the room and started checking it out that he found his things already there, unpacked for him, a familiar black box he had once kept precious sitting on the study desk. He didn’t have to open it to know what was inside.

Apart from pictures with Rin, he really should just burn everything else.

Next time. It was always a problem for next time because he was way too annoyed at life for everything else. Looking at it was just a reminder, too, of a life he had once craved and he couldn’t move forward if it was still there.

Yeah, yeah, he’d burn it all to ashes next time and leave it all in the past like he planned.

The next few days after that, count Sae mildly surprised when you kept trying in subtle ways to ease the tension between the two of you.

There were a few things you did; you kept at your good mornings, and on the days you were feeling particularly courageous you bothered to ask him what he wanted for dinner. He didn’t reciprocate much, only contributed his mornings and told you he didn’t need dinner (although he would note how delicious the food you cooked smelled when he came home afterwards).

There was something strange about the way you made him feel—he didn’t understand where you got the energy to keep trying when you knew this wasn’t what either of you wanted. It was easy enough for him to tell that your parents forced you into this too, but what wasn’t easy was trying to see why you were so good.

What was even more frustrating was the sense of comfort he felt. It was alarming. He didn’t know why it was there. But he found himself trying to reject it.

“Isn’t this supposed to be your honeymoon period or something?”

“C’mon, Oliver, they don’t even sleep in the same room,” Otoya sighed, getting bored of the subject. He was also getting tired of watching Sae’s unenthused face every night.

Ever since he got married, he hasn’t once spent a normal night in. He just didn’t think he had any energy to spend on trying to be cordial with you. Not when a million things are still running through his head in a loop.

It was only 8.30pm, and both Oliver and Otoya were already bringing the big liquor bottles out, the lights in the karaoke room dimming.

“Where’s Karasu?”

“Busy again, with god knows what.” Otoya always sounded disinterested in anything and everything. “Where’s the girls?”

The girls, meaning the usual two that they had as fuck buddies, something Sae didn’t care for. That could be all Otoya cared for, actually.

“On the way,” Oliver replied, pouring the whisky into the shot glasses on the table. Three, even though Sae didn’t want any. “By the way,” Oliver said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he turned to look at Sae. “I have a special guest for you.”

“What?” Sae was entirely too tired to have time to play another one of Oliver’s mind games.

Oliver was already downing a shot for no reason, and Sae chalked it up to being under the constant pressure of being a big shot lawyer’s son.

“That’s who I asked Karasu to get before coming here,” Oliver grinned, sliding a shot glass over to Sae.

Sae ignored it. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” Oliver groaned, throwing his head back against the leather seats dramatically. “Mirin? The name ring a bell?”

It did more than ring a bell, actually. It made Sae’s heart stop, made him speechless. Made Otoya snicker at his reaction.

“Thought I’d offer some incentive to cheer you up from that boring loveless marriage of yours,” Oliver commented, tossing a pack of cigarettes onto the table and lighting one up.

If Sae was being completely honest, he did want to see Mirin. He hadn’t seen her for so many years, he found a passing thought that wondered if she was still as pretty as he remembered, if she still scrunched her nose in that cute way she did and if she still used the same perfume that he liked.

But for some reason, Sae kept thinking back to you. What would you think if you found out? Somehow, he realised maybe that fact alone could make you cry. And somehow, for some abstract reason he couldn’t make out, he wasn’t okay with that.

In the background, he could faintly make out the conversation between Otoya and Oliver, something about how Otoya thought Mirin looked hot from her pictures, and how Oliver encouraged the thought, saying shit like “wait till you see her in real life.”

Normally, he’d feel like punching those who dared to talk about Mirin like that, but at that moment all he felt was nausea. In a weird turn of events, he kind of actually wanted to punch Oliver for taking a subtle dig at you. You were a good person. Even if Sae wasn’t particularly innocent at treating you less than you deserve.

Nausea nausea nausea.

It got even worse when seconds later, Karasu strolled through their door, a smirk on his face aimed at Sae.

“She’s in the restroom freshening up,” Karasu said, winking this time, Oliver whistling in anticipation.

His head was in a mess, wanting to bolt out of there straight away but failing to do so in time because the next minute, Sae watched as his first love walked through the door, looking beautiful as ever.

“Wow, four handsome guys in the room with me, huh?”

She’d gotten flirtier than he remembered. And she wasn’t directly talking to him yet, which was a relief for him.

“Yeah darling, wanna help us take a pic?” Oliver smirked, tossing her his phone.

Sae was just in a daze, looking at the camera as Mirin snapped a picture, her eyes lingering over him through the phone. If he wasn’t married, he was sure he would’ve reacted differently, but as things stood, this was wrong.

The moment Oliver suggested Mirin sit next to Sae for a picture, Sae found himself walking towards the door, muttering an excuse about how he had another appointment and leaving.

“Hey Sae, wait up—”

Mirin’s voice was loud and clear as she chased him out the door but Sae was faster. He was back into his car and driving back home, back to you, before he even made sense of it all.

When he walked through the front door, ready to just pass out on the bed because he had too many surprises earlier, he could smell the homemade cooking—the same one that made him feel nice coming home to. It was more prominent than usual.

Of course it was, because he could see the untouched food as he walked past the dining room. You were there, sitting there, a little pathetic but cute, and Sae didn’t really know what to do.

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

And you seemed a little more determined than usual, although the trembling of your fingers said otherwise. You were that easily scared of him?

“I was waiting for you.”

It was a simple thing, really. A wife waiting for her husband to get home first before eating. But to Sae, it was inexplicable. There was never any instance where he had an easy time going home, especially before this. Going home meant listening to his parents argue over money and having to pretend he didn’t hear it and have to watch them take the same stance as though he didn’t just hear their divide. Home-cooked food had lost its meaning for Sae a long time ago when all he had were private chefs cooking with technique and just that.

Since when did going home mean there would be a warm dinner waiting for him with so much effort put into picking out what he liked? Did you pay attention to his takeout whenever he ordered in?

“I already ate.”

There it was—that denial again that Sae just couldn’t seem to get rid of. Because wouldn’t all marriages dissolve into what his parents had without a strong foundation? They never loved each other, that much Sae could tell. For the longest time, he had thought maybe for once, someone could have a happy family if they actually felt the same about each other and for the longest time that person to him was Mirin.

The same girl he ignored earlier. The same girl he brushed past to get home to you. The same girl who didn’t seem to have as much of a hold over him as he thought after he saw her in the flesh.

Maybe that was why he found himself wanting to try. He had rejected you many times, relegating you to the other end of the house so he didn’t have to see you and feel guilty all the time. It was pathetic of him, yeah, and he was sorry. And call him a coward but he didn’t know how to handle any of this like a normal person would. Normal people probably wouldn’t have to be forced to marry a stranger though.

For once in his life, Sae found himself trying. Trying something he was so averse to in the first place. Trying something that he found so curious because you managed to bring it out of him.

Your efforts didn’t have to be big. It was all so small, so subtle. He saw everything and he tried to reject it—so why is he here now, picking the meat off the bones for you? You seemed so nervous he was afraid you might miss a bone and hurt yourself.

Which made no sense because you didn’t mean anything to him. Right?

So why did he feel the familiar tug on his lips, the smile threatening to form just from a simple dinner, the same way you managed to tug on his heartstrings?

When Sae heard you asking him for a favour, he thought you might’ve been joking. But your demeanour suggested you might not be. It was kind of weird, how you claimed that it was your parents who wanted to check up on the marriage and so you said that you needed Sae to cooperate, but at the same time you looked absolutely gleeful at the thought of having some semblance of normalcy in your married life with him.

He did you a favour by not calling you out for it.

But he couldn’t stop himself from being curious, from wondering what you looked like if he really threw you a bone. That was the driving force behind his close proximity to you, so close he could smell the shampoo off your hair and appreciate the way your breath hitched in your throat.

Cute.

He kept that to himself too, kept entirely way too many opinions of you to himself instead of sharing them with you.

“How are they gonna believe a thing when you’re that awkward around me?”

He gave a mental reminder to himself: maybe he should help you work on that.

But the moment you brought up finances, a bad feeling lurked in the back of his head. Just a gut feeling, if anything. Maybe it was because he was brought up in a similar household that he could tell when other people had bad intentions.

Your parents weren’t exempt from it, he was sure. They treated you like trash, from what he heard earlier, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to rid what would make your life harder.

You were his wife, after all.

“You want me to… transfer all my money into this account?”

He got it, it was a tough ask. Especially since Sae had been none too nice to you since you got married, but for this one, he was adamant. So you did. You gave him all your money like he asked and he really needed to teach you not to be so naive around other people but maybe you felt the same pull as he did, the overwhelming urge to trust even though it wasn’t so much rightfully earned yet.

Stupidly, he felt just that little bit of excitement creeping up inside him at the notion of actually getting a possibly normal marriage to a perfectly good person until his phone vibrated and he saw the name he was hoping he would never have to deal with again.

Mirin wanted to meet.

And if she had not texted to say it was urgent, Sae probably would’ve ignored it. But they spent a chunk of their youth together and it was way too much for him to forget all in a few days.

Still, he didn’t want to give in so easily.

As the days passed, it was strange how easy it was to warm up to you. It was as though the friction between you never existed in the first place.

Somehow, it felt like the both of you were learning as you went through with it—a marriage where you both were learning to be friends first, and Sae never actually knew how much he needed that, how much he enjoyed it.

He didn’t think he’d like it one bit.

But there he was, constantly texting you most times because you were the only person he didn’t mind speaking to nowadays. Well, you and Rin. Maybe Oliver, but after his last stunt he didn’t really want to speak to him.

Sae sighed as he texted you that he’d be coming home late. The frames already came through the mail anyway, he suspected you’d have a good time hanging the photos up everywhere. You loved taking pictures that day after all.

“Wife checking up on you?”

Mirin’s question sounded innocent, but it was enough to irk Sae. To him, it sounded invasive.

“What did you need?” Because she didn’t need to know anything about you. Sae didn’t want her to; Mirin was in the past and he wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

This entire meeting was set up only because perhaps Sae thought she didn’t warrant herself a bad reception from him. She didn’t do anything wrong.

And neither was he, so why was he afraid to just be upfront with you and tell you about Mirin?

Seemingly taken aback by his tone, Mirin looked away nervously. This was a weird setting to be in for someone who said they were upset. Sae had expected a quiet cafe or maybe even a park, not a restaurant at a five-star hotel.

Then again, this was Mirin. Someone who had been brought up being able to enjoy everything to its finest.

“I just needed a friend, that’s all.”

A sure-fire way to earn his sympathy was right there in front of him. Sure, they might have drifted for a while, but it wasn’t like Sae thought she was a bad person. She always used to be strong on her own, steadfast, never needed anything or anyone that sometimes Sae felt like he wasn’t even needed.

Yet there she was, tears spilling down her face and trying to smile and suddenly Sae couldn’t continue being so harsh anymore.

A friend was all he was going to be. It was all he would allow himself to be. The entire night, all he could think about was how much he had missed this whole time—a lot had changed the last few years. The happy family he once knew Mirin’s to be was no more, an unfaithful mother took care of that. And apparently, her father had been on a downward spiral ever since. It was why she moved back, to take care of him.

“But sometimes it gets to be too much, you know?” She was sobbing, and Sae could only watch helplessly. It was not something he was familiar with, but he knew Mirin—she wasn’t someone who would share something like this to anyone. The fact she had called him out of the blue would allude to the fact that she didn’t want to tell anyone else.

It was a lot for him to take in; just imagining being in her shoes, having a father who spiralled into nothing and refused to get back to work, having to take care of him while managing her own shit—Sae didn’t know if he would be that filial at all, but then again, his father was a lot less of one than hers was.

“Anyway,” she sniffled, wiping her tears away and trying to smile. “How’s married life? Y/N, is it?”

Sae cleared his throat, realising that he probably had offered no words to Mirin’s predicament. It was a weird thing, talking to your ex about your current wife. It made him feel like he really shouldn’t be here somehow. “Yeah, that’s her, and it’s great.”

He wasn’t even going to bother masking the awkwardness of the subject.

And Mirin wasn’t going to let up.

“Is she… good to you?”

Good was an understatement. Sae thought you were phenomenal. You didn’t harbour any ill intentions toward him even though he deserved it. You didn’t treat him any harsher like he did you. You were an angel among the living and he should have been grovelling for someone like you but instead you’d been served on a silver platter and Sae knew all of that now.

The difference between how he would’ve treated Mirin before and after you appeared was enough proof of what, or who, he really wanted.

“She’s the best,” he answered honestly, and he felt just slightly bad when Mirin’s expression dropped. Something told him that she was expecting something else. That was when Sae felt the need to draw the line. “And I don’t think she would appreciate it if she knew I was out with… you.”

Across the table, Mirin shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with his tone. She recognised it; it was when he was about to break some bad news. It was always directed to someone else but never to her.

“Listen, I’m sorry you’re going through all of this, really I am,” Sae started, averting his gaze because he wasn’t actually good with words—but if he intended for this to be goodbye, then he had to. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea if we met alone anymore.”

On Mirin’s end, she didn’t want to give up. Sae had been the better part of her youth and she didn’t want to give up their entire relationship or friendship or whatever it is to some girl who had been unknown to her until she got back and realised Karasu had been invited to the wedding and not her. That must’ve been you, was it not?

So she had to play this smart. She had to, to keep this thinning line of relation between her and Sae. As long as it was still there, there had to be a shot for her, right?

“No, you’re right, I’d feel bad too, I just… I didn’t have anyone to turn to recently and—”

“It’s fine,” Sae cut in, mainly because he didn’t want to have to hear her voice break anymore. It was clear cut in his head what they couldn’t be, what he didn’t want them to be anymore. Because he wanted that with you, or at least try at it. “I know Karasu’s been busy lately what with owning his first hotel and all but… Oliver’s a pretty good listener once you get to know him more, and Otoya… you know what, just stick with Oliver—he’s a better guy than he seems. And his family’s full of lawyers too so you guys might have a lot in common.”

Mirin could feel her whole world breaking into pieces right in front of her but there was no such thing as defeat in her dictionary. All she had to do was retreat and come back twice as strong, otherwise she might lose Sae for good.

So she nodded, as though she cared for who or what his friends could do for her. Sae was the only one she wanted to be around—that night at the karaoke room was just a failed attempt, that was all.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take your word for it,” Mirin smiled through her pain, fingers fisting at the hem of her dress. He didn’t even bother to compliment her tonight, or say anything of substance. This was not the Sae she knew, and she wanted to bring him back.

That was why, that night when she got back home (and she was absolutely miserable at how Sae didn’t even offer to drive her back, instead just staying with her until she hailed a cab), she used everything at her family’s disposal to find out more about you. You and your family and Mirin wouldn’t stop until she found out what could possibly make you break.

If there was something Sae would want answers to, it was how he went from having not a single care in the world to give you, to giving you more than he ever even gave himself. He didn’t know if it even seemed that way to you, but it was.

After he got back that night, it was as though you’d constructed a wall between the both of you. Sae could feel you pulling away a little, and he didn’t know why—all he knew was that he didn’t want you to drift. He hadn’t even gotten that close yet, and he wanted to know more about you.

Was it a crime that he couldn’t express himself properly?

It was unfathomable how he was here in the kitchen in the middle of the day, trying to cook dinner for when you got back from meeting Reo. He frowned a little just upon remembering that. Was this jealousy? Only because he was sure by the way Reo was looking at you on your wedding day that there were some hidden feelings there.

On his part, for sure. For you? Sae couldn’t be sure. He could only hope not.

But he wouldn’t discount you from getting a divorce when he saw the mess he ended up making in the kitchen, especially that charcoal-stained wall behind the stove.

Fuck, was he really this bad at anything related to maintaining the household?

Fish was cooked to fuck so he couldn’t serve that anymore. Chicken got burnt on the grill because Sae couldn’t tell when it was done for the life of him. The only thing that was left was the soup and it was still boiling on the stove so at least not all was lost.

At that moment, Sae felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and immediately picked it up, moving himself to the balcony in case you got home early.

“Oliver, find anything out?”

Over the line, Oliver scoffed. “Saw the dad going to the bank, think he went to take whatever was in his safe deposit box. Mother was there too.”

Through the phone, Sae could still tell Oliver was smoking. He still remembered how much smoke would fill his car whenever he rode with him. There was a long pause as Sae tried to gather his thoughts.

“So, Itoshi Sae had a change of heart, huh?” Oliver’s teasing voice rang loud over the line.

Sae rolled his eyes, somewhat regretting asking the guy for a favour.

“What about Mirin? Still ditching her all the time?”

Sae wouldn’t call it ditching. He just… kept rejecting every single time she’d ask him out. Sure, she kept it in line with what he had told her last time, which was to not hang out alone, but Sae didn’t necessarily hang out together in a group either.

“You know, she—”

“Don’t care,” Sae interjected.

“Oh? Really? What if—”

“Don’t wanna hear anything about her, if you don’t mind.” And he was being completely honest. Sure, she kept responding to his stories and he was being nice by giving them a reaction, and sometimes she kept trying to text him although he barely gave any good responses—but that was the extent of their friendship right now, as far as Sae would allow it.

Oliver chuckled through the phone, hands up in surrender even though no one would see it. “Fine, have it your way.”

“Just tell me if you find anything else,” Sae muttered, completely exhausted from having to deal with anything related to Mirin and for once, Oliver was surprised.

“Aye aye, sir,” Oliver murmured sarcastically before hanging up.

The Sae he knew before you would never be caught dead trying to push Mirin away. Sighing, Oliver drove away, losing sight of your parents from his rearview mirror.

“Just don’t say I didn’t try to warn you, Sae.”

Maybe the tickets his parents gave him to celebrate the honeymoon in Korea was a huge blessing in disguise. From looking at you being excited all through the airport just because everyone had been calling you Mrs Itoshi and Sae had been addressing you as his wife, to actually landing in Incheon airport and watching you hop like a child—he thought maybe your earlier distance was just a phase.

Until, of course, you suggested that you both do solo trips.

To which Sae had been mostly deadpan, but not because he didn’t care—more like he was stumped. This was a honeymoon. For the both of you. Was this you trying to push him away? And if so, what for?

So Sae wasn’t going to let that get in the way. He didn’t outright reject your idea. But he could go along with it. You could go wherever you wanted to go, and Sae would tag along behind you.

He wasn’t going to let you wander around solo when you were supposed to spend time enjoying this foreign place together. And Mirin was especially not going to be able to guilt trip him into entertaining her while he was there by using their old plans against him.

When he tried to be her friend and texted her back with actual words for once, Mirin had somehow steered the entire conversation into dangerous territory; like how Mirin had once told Sae she wanted to visit Korea with him someday and that she asked if it was too much to still want to go.

Of course, he had said Oliver would be more than happy to take her there (to which she had sent a sad face that he happily ignored). Still, it sucked when he was trying to find a balance between being a friend and learning to be a good husband.

So there he was, following you around shamelessly even though he knew you kept looking behind to make sure that he was, in fact, actually following you. Sometimes it was hard to keep his snicker in. You looked half in shock yet half relieved.

It was more enjoyable with you than he thought it would be. He had absolutely zero expectations, especially when he had heard so much about knowing people’s true nature once you go on a trip with them—but you were more than fine.

Sae was starting to silently thank his parents for forcing you together. He got to see your smiles way up close, and it was nice to keep you close to him, and he liked the way you smelled that he memorised your perfume when you went in to that makeup store earlier.

That was why when night came and the both of you got back to the hotel, Sae had been more than a little regretful that he had asked the staff to prepare an extra mattress. Was it bad he wanted to sleep with you?

In the end, he only shook his head and vanquished the question from his head. He didn’t want to risk making you too uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sae.”

And he watched as you walked away, wondering if your disappointment was all in his head.

The next few days of the honeymoon went well—until a flurry of notifications popped up while the two of you were playing on his phone; Oliver’s personal important ones mixed with Mirin’s loud ones in the group chat. He didn’t give one shit about the latter, but Oliver’s is what he couldn’t let you see. Not yet, anyway, when it was just based on a hunch.

“Hey Oliver, what is it?”

“They’re definitely fishy, my guy said they’d been moving money around, no idea where though.”

Sae spent that entire evening theorising with Oliver on what it could be—and by the time he came back in, you’d passed out in your bed, probably exhausted from walking too much that day. Somehow, it felt rewarding to be able to tuck you in, and maybe it was greedy but he kissed you lightly on the forehead before he shut the lights.

Yeah, he’d definitely protect you, no matter what.

But there was something he couldn’t understand somehow, when he thought everything was going fine—why were you distancing yourself again?

The last few days of the trip felt wrong, and especially the last night when he could hear you sniffling through the door. It worried him more than he was when it was Mirin, and if that wasn’t enough proof to himself that you were slowly becoming irreplaceable in his life then he didn’t know what was.

That was why he gave in and called the only person he knew who could help—Reo. No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, after being your best friend your whole life, he would probably know best. Sustaining his own ego came last to him when it involved you.

“You better not have done something wrong to Y/N or I swear to god—”

“Hello to you too, Reo.”

Reo sighed, and Sae didn’t blame his hostile tone. You probably confided in him for everything and Sae was undoubtedly one of those things.

“So? What is it?” The purple-haired one’s reluctance to speak to Sae showed, and Sae had to swallow every bit of pride down because he had to ask.

Turned out, Reo was more than willing to share. Only because it was for you, he said. And Sae suddenly felt like an ass for feeling a pang of jealousy. Reo knew you in certain emotionally intimate ways that Sae had yet to learn; he knew what you wanted people to do when you were in different moods, he knew how you wanted to be treated.

That was why Sae couldn’t help himself.

“Reo, are you in love with Y/N?” Sae chose your name instead of calling you his wife—there was a part of him that felt possessiveness in this sense would make him sound like more of a douche than he already seemed to be.

“Relax, I’m not gonna steal her from you or anything,” he laughed, although Sae noted he didn’t answer the question. “But… just letting you know, she has a ton of other options.”

After Reo hung up, Sae stared at the open chat thread on his screen. A picture of you and Reo, making it seem like the two of you were kissing, sent to Sae from an anonymous number. More than questionable, and Sae had tiny specks of doubt before now—wasn’t it natural to be sceptical in situations like these? But now he knew it was stupid. It was stupid because if not Reo, then he should know you enough to trust you wouldn’t do such a thing.

Same as Sae.

Maybe there were things you weren’t ready to tell each other, but now you had the rest of your lives to do so. Sae sure as hell wanted to keep you for that long at the least. So that night he found himself promising you that he would stay, because it was the honest truth. He would stick by you no matter what. After all, he fell in love with you before he even knew it.

And maybe one day, he’ll have the guts to say it.

Just when Sae thought he had had enough troubles for a while, what with your parents showing him their true colours (whether you caught on to it or not)—life threw him another curveball. One in the form of his old flame, casually showing up at his doorstep even though he never once told her the address.

“Mirin? What are you doing here?”

And she was wearing that same old face of hers, the sad one, the one that looked like she was just seconds away from breaking. Normally Sae would entertain her like he did that one night, for old times’ sake, but he was beginning to feel bad intentions and this—his ex-girlfriend being in the house you two shared—was definitely something you would object to.

Instead of waiting for an invitation like a normal person, she barged in past Sae, helping herself to a seat by the island, head in her hands.

“I didn’t know where else to go, it’s just been getting worse,” Mirin was sniffling at that point, and Sae knew he was going to feel like a total ass, but he had to do what he had to do. She had mistaken his question as one of concern.

“I actually got an errand to run, so,” Sae lied through his teeth, dressed in a random oversized white tee and black shorts, though that didn’t stop him. He was genuinely sick and frankly, he was growing sick and tired of having to deal with someone who didn’t respect boundaries.

“Huh?”

“I gotta leave in a minute,” he muttered, going into the bedroom to grab a coat and his keys, slipping on his shoes afterwards at the entrance before turning to look up at Mirin. “Do… you wanna stay in here alone?”

Stumped, Mirin took a few seconds to form a proper response. “Um, no no, how about I run that errand with you? Two is better than one, right?” She was still smiling brightly, almost oblivious to Sae’s attitude.

Two was definitely not better than one, especially since all Sae intended to do was to drive around the block and come back when she was gone.

“Nah, it’s a personal matter, and I’m already late,” he said, sauntering out the front door, Mirin barely trailing behind before the door closed.

Once they were in the lift, Sae caught Mirin sidling up next to him, and he had to exaggerate his coughing just to get her to distance herself. As the icing on top of the cake, he turned on his phone screen just to let her see the wallpaper he put of the both of you back in Korea, that picture where the both of you dressed up in front of the palace. Just to make sure she knew where his head was at.

“Need me to call you a cab home?” He asked, because he would—anything to get her out of here because Sae just didn’t want to give her any space in his life right now.

Of course, Sae knew Mirin well enough to know she was probably seething inside because she came all this way for nothing, but she masked it with a smile. “No it’s fine, I’ll help myself.”

True to her word, she did. Sae watched the cab turn down the other side of the road through his side mirror, and he was relieved more than anything. To think, just months ago he would’ve given anything to have her back in his life.

In the cab, Mirin’s tears weren’t those of upset, but more towards those of contempt. Just what kind of a spell did you have Sae under that he would treat her, the love of his life, so cruelly? To her, you could never be perfect, not for Sae. Because it was her. He told her so, once upon a time. In fact, how dare you get the dream honeymoon with Sae that she always wanted?

And even though she didn’t get much time with him today (because of course he was still acting up), she smiled to herself as she scrolled through her photos. She got what she came for, at least. A few pictures she took, both before and when Sae came out of the room.

Swiftly, Mirin went to her profile and posted a story—anything that seemed suspect enough would be fine. All she needed was a little luck and for the universe to propel you to look at her profile. Creating misunderstandings would just be the building block of you and Sae’s downfall, and then everything else would be easy peasy. Sae wouldn’t even stop her anyway—he unfollowed her a while ago. Whatever.

Yeah, everything would go her way just like it always did. Making Sae pine for her for so long couldn’t possibly be erased by someone such as yourself. Besides, if all else failed, Mirin already found out what she needed to about your family. If all else failed, she’d make sure to take you down.

Was it all in his head?

You seemed a little more inquisitive than usual, and it looked like you were biting your tongue. Did you have something to say that you were afraid to?

“You can tell me anything if you ever need to, okay?” It was more to assure you that nothing you could ask him would ever be too much or too invasive because he honestly didn’t know what it could be—but you didn’t take it.

Was it a sensitive subject?

The entire time you were gone, he spent his time at home ignoring Oliver’s calls and mulling over the decision in his head; the decision to tell you everything that was going on with Mirin. It was getting too much, and he couldn’t tell what was going on in her head anymore—it was like he never knew her.

And… he owed you that, at the very least. You had been nothing but an angel to him, and you’d never been petty or vindictive and you were perfect. Just perfect.

Despite being surrounded by people like Oliver and Otoya who wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about it if they were in his shoes, and being brought up by people who lacked any sort of love for either of their sons, Sae knew that he had to tell you before it was too late. Before Mirin started sinking her claws into you and drove you crazy—being how she was right now, he wouldn’t put it past her to do that. Call it a gut feeling.

If she could just show up wherever she wanted impulsively, plus the amount of information she could get her hands on thanks to her father’s contacts, who knew what else she could do?

But speak of the devil and it shall show up at your door, because minutes later, instead of opening the door to your beautiful face and warm smile, Sae got only a sinister feeling.

“What do you want?”

This time, he didn’t bother hiding his disdain for seeing her anymore. She had been proving time and time again that she was only out for herself, and that was not the person Sae once loved.

She may as well be a stranger now.

Her frown lined her features, the furrow of her brows more defined than ever. Her expression was halfway between disbelief and upset. “Are you really going to treat me this way, Sae?”

“I thought we could still be friends, and that was stupid of me,” Sae said, being openly honest with her for once. “But we can’t.”

With her hand on the door as he tried to close it on her, Mirin was determined to keep it open. She wasn’t about to come all the way here for nothing again. Besides, she’d been posting conspicuously for days—surely now was a good time as ever to drive the wedge deeper between the two of you?

“Why? Because your petty wife won’t let us?”

Sae had never had to force his voice down as much as he had to right now. “Don’t you… ever say anything against her.” He turned on his heels, ready to get his coat and force her out of there until he heard the familiar clack of her heels storming in after him.

“You’re not seriously choosing that second-rate over me?” She spat, fists clenched at her sides, her purse thrown on the floor.

Silence was all he could give her because nothing that would come out of his mouth would be merciful. You were the most innocent of all and yet your name was getting dragged through the mud just because Mirin couldn’t wake up and realise that she was the only reason they drifted in the first place.

“Get out.” Soft. Simple. There was nothing else Sae had to say to her.

Mirin shook her head, adamant on seeing this conversation through to the end. She wasn’t going to leave until she got what she wanted. “You’ve seriously got a screw loose if you’re choosing that cheating whore over me.”

Sae’s head whipped over to glare at her, his self-control coming in extra handy tonight. He narrowed his gaze, the realisation dawning upon him.

“You were the one who sent that picture of her with Reo, weren’t you?” A redundant question; he didn’t need her to answer.

Judging by the triumphant smirk on her face, she didn’t need to say a thing. “Oh, I have a lot more where that came from,” she chuckled, sounding a lot like a villain out of a fairytale. Slowly, she inched closer to him, “come on, if she can have her fun, we can have ours, can’t we?”

Lunging forward, her lips connected with his as she caught him off guard, her arms wrapped around his neck, taking him a few seconds to pry off. Sae wasn’t even spared a second before she tried again, but he swerved this time, and she could only scoff.

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“I’d be careful with how you speak to me if I were you,” she threatened, and Sae was about to offer a rebuttal until she took her purse and shoved some documents in his hand. “This is what you had Oliver investigate, right?”

Sae swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked over them. It wasn’t what he asked of Oliver. This was way more in depth and way more messy than Sae had thought it was. There must’ve been an ongoing investigation that he wasn’t aware of. Either way, how did she—

“It was easy enough to steal it from him,” Mirin mused, straightening up. “It wasn’t his fault, I nicked it while he was asleep.”

Sae didn’t even want to think about the context of that situation. What was even more perplexing was how proud she sounded of it.

Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, making sure to hold onto the documents. Mirin grinned slightly, realising his intentions. “Don’t worry, I made sure to make copies,” she told him, winking.

“What do you want?”

“To talk. About everything. Or else I call for an official investigation into that.”

On one side, Sae felt that everything that had to be said was already said and done. On the other, Mirin wanted so desperately to hold onto the only thing she had been sure of at one point in her life that nothing was going to stop her.

It wasn’t like he had a choice—there was no way he was going to let her storm through your life like that. If there was a chance he could talk some sense into her, he had to try.

“Fine, give me a minute.”

Retreating to the bathroom to wash his face and get her damned lipstick stain off—something he no doubt would have to tell you about later because this has blown way out of proportion—he was almost done until he heard Mirin introducing herself and his heart sank.

Fuck, were you back already?

It wasn’t hard to tell you were completely taken aback by Mirin’s presence in the house. And if Sae had his way, he would tell you everything right here and right now but with the knowledge she held over your family, he wasn’t sure it was a wise idea to tip her over the edge right now. Her threat still loomed over him.

Sae hated how she could take advantage of the situation and just make it seem even more suspicious—just how long had she been at this? He really should’ve just warned you about Mirin a long time ago.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know, Sae. Can I?” For the first time, there was nothing but crisp coldness in your voice.

It stays with him even after he leaves, even when he follows Mirin to the bridge overlooking the waterfront. He’s decided; after tonight, there will not be any ties between him or Mirin, not after he actually witnessed how toxic she could get.

“This is far enough,” Sae tells her, stopping himself right before the row of shophouses that line the underside of the bridge. “What do you want from me?”

Mirin chuckles helplessly, caught between knowing everything she’s doing is futile and wanting to try anyway. “Are you kidding me, Sae?” The tears are already streaming down her face, and Sae is mostly just in awe of how quick she can go from menacing to heartbroken. “What do you think?”

He’s more than aware that there are a lot of unresolved things between the two of them—but that doesn’t change the fact that what Mirin wants, he can’t provide her with anymore. His silence is indicative enough that she can’t get her way no matter what she does. But in the face of someone she’s wanted her whole life, in the face of the only person she’s ever truly been genuine with in this lifetime, she finds that she can’t just accept that.

“You can’t tell me that I mean nothing to you,” Mirin murmurs, and it’s so quiet that Sae wonders if he was even meant to hear it.

On a normal day, Sae would feel sorry for her. They used to be a pair of lovebirds who planned out nearly their whole life together a long time ago. But she lost that right, she lost his sympathy the moment she started being exactly like her mother and trying to tamper with your life.

But maybe his hostility wasn’t a good way to deal with her, looking at all the backlash she’s caused, so Sae tries a different approach this time, even if he’s not particularly in the mood to be nice to her after all the trouble she’s caused.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” It’s partly true. Even if he didn’t do anything in particular, he imagines it must’ve been a shock to her when she came back to Japan and the guy who had claimed to want to wait for her had suddenly been married off. (But he wasn’t sorry for throwing her invitation away—to a certain extent, he felt that you didn’t deserve your future husband having such a distraction in the crowd. At the time.)

“Sae, I know you still love me, I know we can work this out, okay? Just give it a shot. Leave her and we can—”

“I can’t do that,” Sae cuts in, sighing because this is the few times in his life that his inability to express himself has led to inconveniences of this magnitude.

“Why? Whatever she or your parents have on you I’ll—”

“No, Mirin, I can’t because I love her,” Sae says, looking Mirin in the eyes and breaking her heart all over again. But he’d do anything for you, and right now all he wants is to go back to you. He wants to be with you and hear your cute laugh and tease you because you’re all he can ever think about nowadays. “I’m sorry but… I love my wife, and I’m not going to leave her, or let anything happen to her.”

Maybe it’s the absolute vulnerability that she can hear in his voice that makes her believe it. Sae doesn’t say things like that so easily, and maybe it’s the way she can see his eyes tearing up that she can tell it’s genuine no matter how much she doesn’t want it to be. He’s worried and in love and feeling overwhelmed. But Mirin’s not in the right state of mind and she fights back instead of admitting defeat.

“What about promising you’d wait for me, huh? What happened to that?”

By now, Mirin’s airing all her grievances, and Sae understands that enough to let it slide.

“I did, but we grew apart, didn’t we? You dated other guys, refused to try with me while I was still…” He avoids saying it.

“All the things we said we’d do together once we could finally have time to ourselves! Travelling, raising pets, picking out a house and going furniture shopping together, building a family because ours sucked,” she’s sobbing and Sae has to ignore the stares they’re getting from the few people that pass by.

“I still want that—”

“Then why—”

“With my wife.” He emphasises on this, and he’ll repeat it as many times as he needs to. “With Y/N. Her, and no one else.”

It’s his absolute indifference towards Mirin that jars her, because in this world, he was the only one she could count on, and now even that was gone. And right now, all she feels is hatred for you, for the one who stole him from right under her nose.

“Even if I tell you I’ll raze her whole family to the ground?” Mirin threatens with a scowl, igniting the combativeness inside of him.

Sae scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment. Nothing is going to get through to her. Not like this. He stuffs his hands in his pocket, “you can try, but I’ll be right there defending her with everything I got.”

Those teal eyes that used to look at her softly than they had anything else, his soft locks that she could once twirl her fingers through—they now belonged to you. They belong to you and they’re slipping away from her as Sae deigns to say any sort of goodbye, instead just walking off in silence as he tries to get back to you.

Ignoring Mirin’s cries of his name and the threats she’s hurling, he tries to call your phone but you’re not picking up—and that’s enough to make him run.

You’re not in the apartment, and some of your things are gone and since when did he even start to take notice of small little things like your favourite face towel that hangs on the side of the sink or your trusty furry headband that you liked to use hung beside the mirror? Those small little things are missing and for once, Sae’s afraid.

“Come on, pick up pick up,” Sae mutters under his breath as he drives around the neighbourhood, hoping he’d catch you somewhere. He ignores the string of calls he gets from Karasu, only to call him back when he gets a text: oi, pick up, idiot. your wife just booked a room here, you guys ok?

Thank god for coincidences like this or else Sae would’ve spent the entire time you were away wallowing in agony (silently).

It’s easy enough to find you after that, his feet running the most it has in a while—his ankles hurt and his knees feel weak, especially where they’re injured, but you’re worth every injury he has to make. And his heart does somersaults when he finally lays eyes on you, but then it plummets to the ground when he hears the word divorce.

Minutes later you’re running away from him, and he chases after you again—he’ll chase you however long he has to because this is all one big misunderstanding and he has to clear it up because he needs you in his life. Right now and forever. Just like he vowed to you on your wedding day.

The entire night has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and it was naive of Sae to think it was done because the next thing he knows, he sees Mirin throw a half-empty cup of yoghurt at you (along with her vile insults), and your face is absolutely dazed.

Shit. This is all his fault and he’s really, really sorry to you.

WHERE WE LEFT OFF

The walk back to your hotel suite is deafeningly silent.

Subtle lavender fills your noses as you enter the hotel lobby, though you can’t get the smell of greek yoghurt out of your nostrils.

You wonder where Karasu took Mirin to.

Not that you care about her. You just want to make sure you don’t see her. If you do, you might actually slap her.

You’re not sure if you want to try and fight her lawyers. Not sure if you want to give her reason to lord over you. At least, not as much as she did you.

When you enter the lift, you realise that Sae’s been unrelentingly close to you. His arms always brush against yours because he won’t leave so much as a gap between the two of you. Like he wants to catch you if you run.

Not in the creepy way, though. Not to you.

His hair is still slightly matted to his face; must’ve been the result of chasing after you. You’re a little perplexed, and you’re a little strict with yourself—you can’t back down later when you’re questioning him, and you have to remind yourself of this.

Because this marriage isn’t surviving another day if you don’t understand their… relationship.

Surely you’re not just being completely illiterate, right?

From what you’d been told, Sae and Mirin were each other’s first loves. That isn’t what you’re pressed about though, because he could so easily think the same about you and Reo, if the roles were reversed. What you are still pressed about is whether Sae’s intentions still hold true: is he still waiting for her? For the right time to be with her?

His earlier confession still repeats itself in your head. It could just as easily be a complete lie. You don’t want to hold onto it for fear of being disappointed.

Sae had been waiting for Mirin before the arranged marriage thwarted his plans. He had refused to give you any sort of acknowledgement as his actual wife until, well, your honeymoon, you guess. And even then, you still saw Mirin talking to him. Even then, he had to make suspicious calls in the night.

The worst part is when you saw her happily posting in your house. In the apartment where it’s supposed to be for you and your husband yet your husband and his former lover were in there when you were out working.

The moment you enter the suite, you toss his coat on top of one of the chairs and retreat to the bathroom, more than eager to change out of your Mirin-stained clothes.

Your husband’s waiting awkwardly outside the bathroom door by the time you get out, hands in his pockets, sheepishly averting his gaze as though he has the right to be the one acting nervous right now.

He takes a seat beside you on the bed, although you want nothing more than to just have time to yourself right now. On Sae’s part, he’s usually an advocate for this. He would’ve let you be alone any other time but right now. Because he feels that if he lets you, he’d lose you.

And this is selfishness in a way he hasn’t experienced and he doesn’t know why but he knows that he needs you with him.

“How many times?”

Sae finds himself stumped at your question. Your voice is quivering, but you’re trying to stand your ground. “Of what?”

For a change, you’re the one with the firm, demanding voice and he’s the one sounding meek. But for all your hostility, you still let him hold your hand. It makes Sae want to hold onto hope.

“How many times have you cheated on me?”

“What?”

He’s anticipated many things from you, many questions about his history and why you saw him the way you did earlier that night, but consider him stumped when he heard the words fly out of your mouth.

Cheating?

Have you been in agony over such a question all this time?

And suddenly he feels an overwhelming amount of guilt wash over him. Sure, he’s known that he would be bad at these things, at communicating when it’s not a sport, at understanding your feelings, at being a damn husband in a marriage that he initially loathed. But he didn’t know it would be this bad, that he would’ve made you feel this insecure.

Right now, you’re seething, and rightfully so because he must’ve done so many things wrong to make you think that way, to make you feel so sure of it too.

You’re still waiting for an answer, fists clenched at your side, the familiar mirth in your expression that Sae’s grown used to is tucked away safely in a place you don’t want him to reach.

“Well? Tell me, because I don’t want a marriage where I’m constantly a second choice. How many times have you—”

“I didn’t, I swear.”

The words come out of him in a hurry; there’s a flurry of emotions inside him, mainly one of fear—since when did he become afraid to lose you? It wasn’t something he was consciously aware of and yet it’s surfacing right now. He doesn’t want you to think that way anymore, that he’d do anything behind your back that would far disgrace your status as his wife.

It takes you a while to collect your thoughts, because Sae can see your shoulders relaxing, your fists unclenching. Your brows are furrowed, and he knows it’s because you’re afraid to just trust him. With good reason.

“How can I believe that?”

Your voice has lost its earlier edge, and now all that remains is the fragments of your hope—hope that somehow you can make it through this. Together.

Sae takes a step forward, daring to pull you into his arms, his mind filled with just you you you. Like it has been for a bulk of the time recently.

“I’ll tell you what you wanna know, anything.” He’s aware it doesn’t come close to the damages done, but he’ll try. He’ll try for the rest of his life if he has to.

“Everything. Tell me everything.”

And everything it was.

Sae answered everything you wanted him to, no holds barred. Mostly it was everything about Mirin, because that’s what’s been bugging you the most. And it was a lot. Somehow, you believe him, every single word.

He was stupid for keeping it to himself, yes. But you kept Reo and that picture to yourself too, and maybe you can understand why he had initially been afraid to say anything.

You’re both sitting on the bed, facing each other, Sae’s voice nearly cracking from all the talking he’s been doing. His hand slowly reaches out to yours, the tension in his shoulders letting go when your fingers grasp onto his. Can he take that to mean you don’t completely hate him?

“I’m really, really sorry,” Sae says, softly, gazing at the mattress because he still doesn’t even know if he deserves your acceptance. “I really do love you, Y/N, and I don’t want a…” divorce.

Is it because you’re too nice that you already want to forgive him? It’s all just a domino effect that got way too big. Still, you can’t make this a habit, so you stand your ground.

“I just… I want this to be a marriage where we can be open and completely honest with one another,” you say, lost in your thoughts, knowing that you’re not completely innocent yourself, and ashamed even more to know that Sae had known about the misleading picture of you and Reo all along yet choosing to trust you wholeheartedly anyway. “But I think there’s a lot of work we both need to do.”

Sae takes it hopefully. “Then we’ll do it, together,” he tells you, and it’s hard not to smile at how genuine he’s being.

But before either of you can say much else, there’s a quiet knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Sae offers, walking to the door and sighing once he looks through the peephole. He’s ready to ignore until the knocks come again. Opening the door, he sees a slightly timid Mirin. “We don’t have anything else to say to each other.”

Mirin doesn’t even look at him, just gazes past him at nothing. “I didn’t come to talk to you,” she says, before her gaze lands on you. “I came here to talk to her.”

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exitwound · 5 months

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Maybe think about why you care so much about calling gerard way a woman to the extent that you equate it as the only correct way to engage with their work, as if art as well as support for the trans community can’t have value by itself, as if that isn’t the point, not their literal personal internal experience of gender that’s no one’s business, the same way trying to decide if anyone is trans is not your business if that person doesn’t want to tell you or talk about it with you, because it’s gender essentialist, and why it’s so baffling to you that a celebrity in general but especially gerard way might want to avoid labels or this specific type of intrusive categorization , as they have explicitly stated as well as created music that is about the same thing. And shouldnt we live in a world where someone can present gnc, and talk about experiences with gender and with femininity in honest ways, without people not just obsessing over whether that means they’re “really a woman” but outright deciding, and acting like they are. That’s a narrow fucking definition of womanhood. And shouldn't we value that authenticity from people who don’t want to choose a label as much as we do from people who identify in ways they do choose to label, (labels or the lack of btw have never been individual terms but tools for relating or not relating ourselves to the world in specific ways,) Isn’t that a better more open and beautiful mode of creating relationships to each other? Why does gerard need to be a woman to you? Why are you so obsessed with this? Why is transness and queerness and gender nonconformity itself, to you, some kind of item, an object or artifact for distribution upon others — and it is not in fact “creating cisnormativity” to accept the way a person wants to relate their identity to an audience. There are lots of trans women and transfeminine people who are doing everything gerard way is doing for transness and much more. If you want to call someone a woman go call a woman a woman. If you want to celebrate trans joy go celebrate trans joy. Please by all means do I will celebrate with you I am celebrating with you and I am doing it while listening to my chemical romance. So what’s the point in acting like this. I really don't get it. But it concerns me because this isn't the only time I've witnessed this kind of attitude and although its well-intentioned and "playful" its ultimately weird, ultimately harmful. So honestly, if this really feels "low-stakes" to you it might be because you've never dealt with the kinds of situations where the stakes exist, or considered the perspective of someone who has a different relationship to the stakes of your argument than you do.

Because not to be dramatic, but these stakes are the same stakes relevant to the literal record numbers of legislation currently being passed in the US using bioessentialism and gender essentialism to install systems of state-controlled gender-enforcing and forced gendering of trans and non-trans gnc children in schools and in healthcare. What you're doing is, if on a small scale, still contributing to the same conceptualization of gender as these laws, and as the people who passed them, even if you're well intentioned and hate the laws, even if your beliefs are reversed, the framework is the same, and that framework is going to empower the dominant culture, not yours. That's how power works. Which is why it's stupid. It's literally just stupid. And it hurts trans people who have had experiences in the real world where people are just as intrusive as you are being about trying to interpret their gender, and you’re no different for trying to clock people. If you don't know the stakes of your words, you should learn them before you use those words. Just because you're in a bubble of people who agree with you and think this is just about being either "right" or "wrong" about gerard way's gender and wanting to be "right" doesn't dismiss you from the meaning of the actual words you are saying and the ideologies informing your beliefs, whether or not you're aware of them, because the rest of us aren't trying to be right, we're not living in a this-or-that world in the first place. Personally I don't know them. I've appreciated & engaged with what they have said about their experiences with gender as well as their art while also respecting their statements about not liking labels, and treated their silence on their own identity as intentional, because I like knowing what words, and the absences of words, mean

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booksandabeer · 10 months

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Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #fandom culture #i once again have no idea what to tag this #fanfiction forever #fanart forever

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angelinpiink · 1 year

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ymir is literally the embodiment of what it means to be a fuck boy, her being a girl means nothing she's breaking hearts and making pretty girls cry all the same. she cant stay committed to just one girl when there are so many out there in need of having their cunts used til they are sobbing from her tongue or her strap, which she's a pro at using..given the amount of experience she's had. she has a reputation for getting girls in her bed and pounding them so hard their legs no longer work and when she's had her fill she kicks them out. She's so cruel and heartless :( but because she fucks like a man she gets away with it. her cock will be buried so deep inside you you'll be seeing stars and thinking you've made it to heaven's gates. that is exactly how she's able to keep you wrapped around her finger. she keeps you fucked out and dumb so that you're not ever given a chance to question her about your relationship. whenever given the chance she always lets you know how you're her favorite. "this pussy was made for me, yeah?" you'll nod so eager and begin babbling for her to give you more. "look at the mess you're making all over my cock, so pretty how can i say no?" and to some extent it's true out of all the girls you're the only one who's number she has saved, the only one who she doesn't kick out after she's had her way with you, the only one she's fucked more than three times. still, that's not to say she's nice to you either. she has a habit of being possessive over you, so angry at the idea of you being with someone else that if she sees you so much as smile at another person you can bet you wont be cumming later that night. "shut up and take it. you seemed so cock hungry when talking to reiner. why the sudden change of heart?" for this reason, it's just better if you avoid having romantic relationships outside of her. No one can take care of you as well as she does.

my masterlist!

#ymir smut #ymir x y/n #ymir snk #ymir x reader #ymir aot #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x y/n

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mrsevans90 · 3 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 11

Y'all, this GIF is down right SPICY but it fit the smut in the story so well I had to ☺️

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: SMUT, Emma getting an attitude, Sy yelling, detailed PTSD flashback, bodily function/embarrassment, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 10

I wake up still in the same position that I fell asleep in, on Emma’s chest and notice that my body feels incredibly stiff. Her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat are comforting even though I’m incredibly embarrassed and just want to pretend last night never happened. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day. I notice the amount of light cascading in from behind the curtains must make it late in the morning, but considering I had a very active night I’m not surprised that I slept in. I carefully lift my head to see if Emma is awake and am startled when I see her big beautiful eyes staring down at me.

“Good morning.” She says quietly.

“Mornin’.” I reply.

“How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. What time is it?” I ask her somewhat brusquely.

“It’s 9:38.” She answers after looking at the time on her phone.

I sigh and sit up so that I’m faced away from her.

“Let me make us some breakfast. I’m hungry.” She quickly gets up and goes to the restroom to take care of her morning routines before she exits and walks to the bedroom door.

“Come down to eat after you’re done in the bathroom please.” She says quietly while I’m still pondering my next move as I sit on the edge of the bed. The tension and embarrassment oozes from my body as I sit there attempting to contemplate how to handle this. I haven’t been in this situation before. Alex has seen me have a small flashback at work once, but we didn’t have to talk about it. My grandparents certainly don’t know the extent of my PTSD because I purposely keep it from them. They don’t need to know how mentally damaged their loving grandchild has become. Aika is really the only one who has ever witnessed the extent of my depravity and luckily, she can’t talk or judge me for it. She’s just a silent witness who snaps me out of it with a bark or licking my face. Emma is the only person to ever see how badly it really is and I just don’t even know what to say to her. I force myself up and relieve myself in the bathroom before brushing my teeth and getting myself ready for the day. I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder just how I got this screwed up before heading to the kitchen.

Emma is humming to herself as if nothing has transpired as she flips pancakes on the stove. She has coffee brewing in the pot and has sat out my favorite mug that has a picture of a donkey on it with the words, “Do I Look Like a Jackass?” written across it. It was a gift from one of my warhorse buddies, Harper.

When she hears me approach, she turns and silently fills the cup with coffee before handing it to me with a shy smile. Seems the poor thing is also trying to figure out what to say and coming up blank.

“I hope pancakes sound good to you. I also made some bacon and saw there’s some fruit in your fridge but I’m not sure how old it is.”

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.”

I drink my coffee while she turns back around to work on the breakfast. Once it’s made, I set the table and refill our coffee cups while remembering to add the coffee creamer that I now buy specifically for Emma since she likes hers sweet. Just like her.

We sit down and I’m aching to avoid the subject but I know I just need to get it over with.

I clear my throat. “Breakfast looks really good. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.” She replies and I want to smile.

“I um… I’m really sorry about what happened last night. You shouldn’t have to see me like that or put up with it and I just want to apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. I’m grateful you opened up to me a little bit, honestly.”

Unwillingly, I think to myself. I take a deep breath.

“Maybe, this thing between us is moving too fast.” I blurt out.

“By this thing, you mean our relationship? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were exclusive after our conversation the other day. Is this you trying to end things with me?” She says angrily.

“I’m just no good for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with a grown man who has nightmares.”

“I think that I should be the one to decide who or what is good for me. I’m a grown woman who has plenty of my own baggage and I’m not going to allow you to throw this away because you’re embarrassed or trying to protect me from the one person who doesn’t pose a threat to me.”

“I absolutely pose a threat to you!” I yell and slam my fist against the table. “Wasn’t last night enough to show you? I was wielding a rifle dreaming that I was back in active war. Damnit Emma! Don’t be naïve. I could have shot you, or hit you. I could have thought that you were the enemy and there’s no way you would have been able to fight me off! I should have ended things before it got to this point and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was being selfish and wanted more time with you but I realize now how dangerous that is.”

“NO.” She crosses her arms and straitens her back defensively.

“No?” I repeat in quiet shock.

“No.” She stares at me with a look of fire like a mother chastising her child and even though she’s so tiny I feel myself cower back a little.

“You are ruining the best thing I’ve ever had because you are scared, Austin! And I understand how scary it was, believe me, I was there watching you fight a battle in your own mind. But I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. You need to understand that we both need each other and I am good for you whether you choose to believe it or not. You’re jumping to a conclusion either to punish yourself or me because you’re embarrassed that I know this about you now and I will not tolerate it. Last night, you protected me from what you thought was danger even in your flashback. You will not hurt me and I know it.”

I sit there for a minute stunned by what she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d be happy to tell you everything from my perspective if you could stop trying to dump me and actually have a vulnerable conversation with me like an adult.” She snarks.

Damn, she’s throwing some verbal punches this morning and it’s kinda sexy.

“Alright, I’m listening.” I announce and she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and you running down the stairs. Aika jumped up and seemed concerned so I took her with me as I went downstairs, turning on lights as I went since you still had the house completely in the dark. I heard the backdoor slam open against the wall as you ran out and I held Aika back so I could shut the door until I could determine what was going on. When I turned on the patio lights I saw you run by with a rifle in your hands. I figured you might have heard an animal or intruder or something so I waited for a moment looking through the window before I heard you yelling. It was pouring rain so I struggled to hear you but you didn’t seem to notice the rain. You ran up against the backside of the house and were yelling different words, military lingo I guess, and aiming your rifle around the corner. Aika was going absolutely nuts barking and I almost let her out to get you but I wasn’t sure if your gun was loaded. Instead, I carefully made my way over to you and kept repeating, “It’s Emma, you are safe.” But when I got to you I could tell you were still actively dreaming, if that’s what we are going to call it. Your eyes were almost glassy but when I touched your shoulder, you immediately put your arm around me from behind to protect me and told me to get down and cover my head. You kept placing your body in front of me. I tried talking to you but you just kept asking me if ‘Lowell and Waites’ were still alive. I wasn’t sure what to say but I remembered the conversation that we had the first time I stayed here. I couldn’t get your attention since you were so absorbed in your mission, until I finally grabbed your face with my hands. That’s when you started to come back to me. You protected me from whatever threat you saw, not the opposite.”

I take a steadying breath and try to calm my heart rate. Hearing her talk about something I’ve done during a flashback is strange, because she’s the first to actually witness it and tell me what I did. I guess it’s like sleepwalking, or undergoing anesthesia where you remember specific events but they are different to what actually happened.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. I hate that you had to go through that in real life, and again in your flashbacks but I’m glad that I was there to see it. I think I understand you a bit more and I want to be there for you.” She says earnestly.

“If you want to apologize for something, you can apologize for trying to dump me.” She says moments later with an attitude.

I can’t help but crack a smile at her gumption. She is something else.

“I’m sorry for trying to dump you.” I whisper and she stands and comes over to sit in my lap.

“I accept your apology.” She smirks.

“Thank you for refusing to be dumped.” I look intently into her eyes. She kisses me sweetly before tapping my forehead.

“Let me in here. I can handle it, I promise. I want to know everything about you, even the bad stuff.”

“I just… I’ve never let anyone in.”

“Okay, imagine this. What if I kept all of my trauma about Colin from you. I know it’s not the same, but just imagine I didn’t tell you about him stalking me, or why I am the way I am about things. You’d be pretty pissed, right?”

“Obviously.” I tell her. “But that’s because I want to protect you.”

“Exactly. I feel the same way. Now imagine if I told you that I kept it from you because I just didn’t think you could handle my drama.”

I roll my eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t handle it.”

“But you’ve thought that. Haven’t you?”

“Maybe” I mutter petulantly.

“You’d be livid with me.” She smirks at me knowing she’s made her point thoroughly.

“Alright. I get it.” I put my hands up in surrender.

“I can handle this and I want to know everything about you. Even the stuff you keep locked away for whatever reason.”

“It’s pretty dark, Sugar. I don’t like thinking about it and I don’t like the idea of you thinking about it.”

“Again, not your decision to make.” She says.

“I decide what’s best for me and what I can handle. I promise you, I can handle this and if you just get that through your thick skull and let me be there for you, we’ll be good as gravy.” She said while thumping my forehead.

“Ow, woman!” I say before I tickle her sides.

“Fine. I’ll be better about opening up. I just might need your help and your patience because I’ve kept all of my shit buried away essentially my entire adult life.”

“They teach you to do that in the military?” She asks with an eyebrow arched.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I’m going to help you undo that.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to like that process.”

“You’ll be fine.” She says before kissing me gently. “I’ll use my sexual prowess if I have too.”

“Seduce me to learn my secrets? You little minx.” She giggles at my joke and I breathe a sigh of relief that we can joke about it at this point.

“Do these flashback episodes happen often?” She asks.

“Nah, this is the biggest one I’ve ever had. I’ve had a few small ones, but nothing this involved before. Maybe once or twice a year before this. It’s usually triggered by something when I’m really tired.”

“What do you think triggered you last night?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the storm. Likely the thunder was similar to an explosion or something in my dream.” I say quietly and she just nods and strokes my cheek.

“Do you have Nana’s brunch today?”

“Nah, she’s got some clothing drive thing at the church that she’s doing. I’m glad because I don’t need her scrutiny today.”

“Does she know about the episodes?”

“Not really, just always told her it was nightmares. I think PawPaw likely has an idea having been a veteran himself, but he keeps it to himself which I appreciate. I don’t need Nana trying to convince me to join some VA group to talk about my problems.”

“What’s so bad about those groups? I only ask because I have no frame of reference.”

“Nothing, those things are really good for some people but it’s just not for me. I tried once or twice after I retired and felt worse after them. Just not the type to get up in front of strangers and talk about my issues.”

“Survivor’s guilt.” Emma mutters and I glance at her somewhat annoyed.

“Think you’ve got me all figured out then?” I ask haughtily.

“No. Not at all as a matter of fact. I know there’s a lot more that you haven’t shared with me. That’s fine, for now. Just don’t get mad at me for being here for you. I don’t deserve that.”

My iciness cools immediately and I agree with her. She’s just wanting to be here for me in a way nobody else has ever been.

“I’ll do my best, Darlin’.” I admit while tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She kisses me sweetly.

“What do you want to do today, Sugar? That is if you want to spend the day with me.” I ask her.

“Shut up, of course I do.” She says as she rolls her eyes and I growl at her.

“Mmm.. I need to go to the grocery store and do some meal prep, but other than that I’m open to whatever.”

“Want to go to the store together? Hell, it certainly wouldn’t hurt me to bring my lunch a few days rather than eatin’ fast food all the time.”

“Ohhh! I love that. I can prep lunches for both of us.” She says excitedly and I can’t help but smirk at her.

“You don’t have to do all that work.” I say, thinking that I can cook my own.

“I really don’t mind. I have to cook mine anyway.”

“Alright, how about this. I buy all the groceries for us, and you cook the meals.”

“No baby, I’m offerin’ to cook for you. I don’t need you to buy my food.”

“Nah, that’s the deal Sugar Pie. Take it or leave it.” She arches her eyebrow at me and I can’t help but chuckle and smack her round little ass.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Military negotiation training continues to pay off.” I chuckle at her reaction. She attempts to tickle me, but I gently grab each of her wrists effectively handcuffing her hands by her sides.

“Geez, Sy, I knew you were strong, but damn.” She says as she attempts to wiggle out of my grasp. She doesn’t realize that she’s also wiggling her ass against me and in a matter of moments, she’s going to feel what it’s doing to me.

I let go of her wrists and she acts like she’s done playing before she turns around quickly and shoves her fingers against my ribs. I jolt from the chair sideways as she laughs freely at what she thinks is winning this game.

“Oh, ya wanting to play?” I say with a smirk and when I reach for her she jumps up and takes off running. Before I even realize it, we are giggling like school children as I chase her up the stairs. The dogs are barking wildly and poor Aika has Mills jumping all over her in an attempt to start wrestling. They slowed me down by getting between me and Emma so she got a little bit of a head start. Eventually Aika gives in and the start playfully wrestling in the hallway. I catch her at the top of the stairs, my long legs being no match for her short but fast stature. Emma squeals exuberantly when I pick her up from behind and haul her over my shoulder. She’s panting and I realize I might’ve played too rough so I gently slide her down my body, taking care to be intentional with where I placed my hands.

“Shit! I didn’t think about your period. I didn’t hurt ya did I?”

She smiles before shaking her head, “it ended last night. You didn’t hurt me baby, but thank you for checking.”

“Well in that case,” I say as I haul her back up on my shoulder, “I’m going to finish what I started.” She squeals again before smacking me on my butt.

I slap her ass that’s now exposed since she was still only in my shirt and grope it gently before throwing her on the bed on her back. I lay beside her on my back as we catch our breaths from our little game of cat and mouse.

“That was fun.” She giggles.

“Sure was.” I turn to her and smile.

“Now what?”

“Well, I don’t think I’d let you go to the grocery store without pants on, so as much as I hate to, I suggest you get dressed.” I respond as I gently rub my big mitt against the soft skin of her leg.

“Mmm, maybe later. I don’t think I’m done playing.” She admits seductively before gently placing her hand delicately against my clothed cock.

“That so?” I ask her and she nods. My heart starts beating quicker as she begins rubbing against me.

“Right now, I think I’d like to get you undressed.” She says seductively before her hand slides under the hem of my shirt. I lean up and quickly pull it over my shoulders tossing it somewhere in the room. I’m about to lean over on top of her when she pushes me back and her hands slide under the waistband of my shorts and boxers. She grasps my erection firmly before pulling at my shorts and boxers to remove them, so I lift my hips to assist her. Once those are off, Emma begins kissing across my abdomen while simultaneously jerking my throbbing erection. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, like an overwhelmed kid given free range in a candy store.

“Fuck, Sugar. What brought all this on?” I rasp as I grab a handful of her ass.

“You trying to dump me.” She says and I pause and look at her concernedly.

“Gotta remind you what you’d be missing out on.” She smirks before pulling my t-shirt off of her body and exposing her flawless breasts. She immediately pushes them against me and my responding growl has her grinning. Her warm, soft skin rubbing against my torso has me aching to take control and flip her over. Emma’s tiny hand still pumping my cock has me frozen and her gorgeous body, now only clad in a little pink thong has me hypnotized. I can’t stop myself from humping further into her hand as I feel her warm breath slowly making her way up my torso before sucking on my neck.

“Sugar, you’re playing a real dangerous game here.” I warn as she bites and sucks a hickey right above my collarbone. At the same time, I’m so hard that it’s painful and beads of precum are continually leaking from my slit as she uses it for further lubrication towards her ministrations.

Emma sucks on my earlobe before lightly whispering in my ear, “Ah, I like playing games with you.” Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and that’s when my resolve breaks.

Without thinking, I flip Emma over and tear her tiny thong to shreds as I rip in from her body. She gasps with either surprise or overwhelming need but I don’t pay attention as I pull her in for a brutal kiss. She starts to try and take control back by grabbing at my forearms, but I quickly trap both of her arms above her head using one of my hands to secure them.

“Now who’s in control?” I ask her smugly as I take in her beauty. Her breasts, peaked and heaving from the excitement are so sexy that I ache just from looking at them. Her little belly ring shimmering in the sunlight that streams in from the window somehow makes me even harder.

“Still me. I say stop and I know you’ll immediately discontinue what you’re doing.” She smiles triumphantly.

I smirk at her, because she’s exactly right. She holds all the power here, and I’m damn glad she knows it. Seems she wasn’t able to have that in her last relationship and I’ll do everything in my power to see that she knows she’s in control.

“You’re exactly right, Darlin’.” I say with a smile and her returning grin stuns me.

“Lucky for you, I like it when you take control and toss me around.” She divulges as she squirms under me and I can’t help but rut against her legs.

“That so?” I ask and she nods dumbly.

“Well ask and you shall receive.” I say before capturing her lips in a messy kiss. I trail my other hand slowly down her body before inserting my middle finger into her core and keen as she moans in pleasure at the intrusion. I pump a few times before adding a second finger and her body arches pleasantly off the bed.

“Fuck, Sy!” Emma shouts as I curl them in search of her g-spot. I grin victoriously when I know I’ve found it based on the reaction of her body. I start worshipping her titties that are so conveniently pressed right in front of my mouth and that seems to spur her on. I’m leaking all over her thigh as I’m so turned on but I need to get her there first.

I’m still holding her arms above her body and that’s how I keep her still as she squirms and moans exuberantly once her first orgasm washes over her. I observe the pure bliss ease across her facial features as she reaches her climax and I can hear the audible squelch of her arousal each time I pump my fingers into her core. After I’m sure to help her through it, I slide my fingers out and wipe the juices along my shaft, squeezing it to release a little bit of pressure as I do. I look at a completely blissed-out Emma as I pump myself a few times before I hear her quietly request, “Fuck me, Captain Syverson. Fuck me hard.”

I groan before capturing her lips in a filthy kiss before I flip her over. I lift her hips up off the bed and am appreciating the view of her perfect little peach and round delicious ass in the air before she shakes it at me. I smack her ass before sliding in and barely giving her time to recover as I slam into her.

“Y’okay?” I ask after she gasped loudly and she nodded before pushing herself further back on me.

I groan and she does it again so I stay there perfectly still for a few moments as I watch the erotic way Emma fucks herself on my cock in doggy style position. Her back is perfectly arched and she flips that mane of hair over her shoulder as she drives herself back on me again. Fuckin’ hell. I can't help myself when I wrap her hair around my fist as I fuck her harder.

My hands are in tight fists as I’m trying to keep from busting a nut so soon after we started but I know I’m not going to last long. I grab ahold of her hips and drive myself into her sopping wet core and focus on getting the angle right. I know I’ve gotten it when I feel her flutter around me.

“Yeah? Ya like that? Takin’ Sy’s cock all the way up in your tummy? Mmm, mmm, mmm, you look so fucking good like this, Sugar. This perfect ass slamming against me as I fuck that sweet, juicy peach.” I tell her and her moans get louder.

“Tell me, Darlin’. Tell me how it feels.” I probe her.

“Ah! Fuckkk! You feel so good, baby. So big and… and full and deep. Fuckin’ me better than I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? This is easily the tightest, tastiest little peach I’ve ever had before. You were made for me. Made to take this cock.” I say and she moans. I slide my hands from her hips and grope her ass before putting my thumb around her tight little ring of muscle.

“You gonna let me in here one day, Sugar?” She clenches all around me and I almost blow my load.

“May…maybe.” She says as I continue to rut into her. I add a bit more pressure with my finger and feel her clamp down on me as her second orgasm ravishes throughout her body.

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m gonna cum.” I tell her and she moans as I piston in and out of her at a quicker pace to reach my high. My balls are heavy and full and I grunt as they tighten to my body when my orgasm washes over me. I still as deeply as I can in her wet heat as I paint her insides with ropes of cum and gently drape myself across her back that is now limp on the bed.

Emma whimpers as I remove myself from her and I quickly push the leaking cum back into her when it starts to leak out.

“Y’alright, Sugar?” I ask as she doesn’t move.

“Mmm.” She replies and I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no.

“Fucked you speechless huh?” I chuckle as I stand up and turn on the shower. The sweat dripping down my chest makes me want a cold shower, but I know Emma won’t have that so I get the warm water running before I go back to get her. She’s still completely spread out on the bed on her belly like I left her. I roll her over gently before lifting her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom. I set her on the toilet and am shocked that she pees without making me leave the room, but I don’t comment on it. She shuffles over to wash her hands before pulling her hair up into a messy bun. I wash my hands and check the shower temperature before she wraps her arms around me. I’m sweaty but she doesn’t seem to care as she rests her cheek against my chest. I aim the water on us and soap us up cleaning the sweat and the remnants of our tryst from both of our bodies. I kiss her forehead gently and she just smiles and nuzzles further into my chest with her eyes closed. After our shower, I quickly dry her off as well as myself before I clean up the clothes thrown around the room. Her little panties are in shreds and I remind myself to offer to pay for them as I throw them in the wastebasket.

“You’re awfully quiet.” I voice aloud and she smiles.

“I think I’ve been asleep while standing up that whole shower.” She replies and I chuckle.

“You must’ve been. Didn’t even make me leave the room when you went to pee.” I joke and her eyes snap open in realization.

“Oh my god, I didn’t. You saw me pee.” She says as she places her face in her hands in embarrassment.

I laugh loudly because she must’ve not even notice me pee after her while she was washing her hands.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. I peed while you were washing your hands if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t even think, your sexpertise made me almost comatose. I claim insanity.”

“You know I don’t care about that. You could even fart in front of me and I bet it would be adorable.” Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. That would be mortifying. I would have to move out of the country.” She says dramatically and I laugh.

“You really think that we could live a whole life together, married with babies, grandbabies, and even great grandbabies and I wouldn’t see you pee or hear you fart?” I ask her seriously and am surprised when she shyly smiles.

“You think about us living a whole life together?” Truth time.

“Honestly, yeah. I’ve thought about it a few times. I know it’s early on, but it’s nice to think I’d be capable of having a future like that, and it’s even nicer to imagine it with you. Plus, it’s kind of hard not to when Nana is practically marrying us off in every phone call I have with her.”

Emma’s cheeks blush pink and I’m glad I was honest with her.

“I think that sounds amazing.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me and I swear my heart beats for this woman.

Part 12

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

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lightlycareless · 4 months

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Ok but like… virgin!naoya 👀👀👀👀👀 thoughts?

😏 hello. what an interesting topic...

I initially wanted to write something short, like hc's or such, but you know me I just gotta go the whole way hahahah. Anyways, this is very... idk how to say it, I feel kinda bad for Naoya, but I had to exagerate some things because honestly I do not feel a man like him would be a virgin for too long, you know?

anyways, here are the warnings: smut. naoya being weird, a dork tbh (but a perverted one too) and something tells me this is lowkey bottom!naoya too... anyways; MINORS DNI. happy reading!!

Virgin!naoya where all of his thoughts are, of course, having his first time.

He wholeheartedly believes the reason why he hasn't been able to do it is because everyone around him doesn't have good taste. Like, they can't see all that he offers, what a great deal he is:

He has money, prestige, a good education (he’s attending one of the best colleges in the country!) and literally no worry in the world ‘cause the rest of his life is set thanks to his family.

But at the same time, he doesn’t want people to just want him for that.

Unbelievably, he desires someone that will make him feel like the amazing, accomplished, talented, one of a kind, never seen before, man he considers himself to be, even if he didn’t have anything under his name.

If he just wanted sex, he could pay someone for that!

And yet, he still waits for the right one.

Naturally, Naoya isn’t any proud of the fact that he hasn’t been able to get it on with anyone, so he goes to the extent of making things up to compensate for that.

Whenever people around him start talking about their flings, one-night stands amongst other things, Naoya always has something to say:

“Experiences” of course, that he made up from watching porn. And apparently no one has been able to catch him in the lie, either because he turned very aggressive when confronted, or because they didn’t care tbh.

Until someone dared confront him.

“But you didn’t go out that night.”

“I saw you somewhere else though.”

“I thought you said you stayed home all day that time…?”

To say a few.

And when the pieces began to fall into place, alongside the fact how “nervous” he got when asked to elaborate, the earth-shattering truth comes out:

“Wait—Naoya, don’t tell me you… you’re a virgin?”

It’s safe to say that Naoya hides himself from the goddamn world for the following days, right after making the curious asker regret their existence.

But now that the truth was out there, he was on a mission to prove everyone wrong; he was going to lose his virginity, no matter what it took, and stop being the laughingstock of his friends.

He’d start by going date, after date, after date with any girl he thought attractive in hopes of finally getting laid.

But somehow, it just never went through; not even the most desperate woman would accept him, because of course, he just had to open his mouth and that’d be enough for everyone to run away.

Naoya is now, for all intents and purposes, desperate. Wasn’t sex supposed to be the easiest thing to find in the world??

Like, even his dad got laid! He exists for a reason! Why can’t he have the same luck??? He’s even better looking than him!! So why is it so goddamn hard???

…

Naoya really, really doesn’t want to pay someone to do it; doesn’t want to hurt his pride, make everyone believe that he wasn’t able to get it out of his pure charm…

But his delusions don’t get bad until he meets the new girl at school; a transfer student from Tokyo that wanted to know what Kyoto was all about.

Naoya usually didn’t care about these situations, unless he could get use them to his advantage.

But that quickly changes when he sees her—you.

Not that he had any choice, because you had an alluring aura that attracted everyone to you, whether because of your status as a new student, or your surprisingly fun personality.

He got to experience this last part after discovering you had a class with him, eventually assigned to do a group project for the end of the semester.

It all started by meeting at the library after school to work on it, before exchanging numbers, social media, and eventually, hanging out outside of campus to talk not only about the project, but other things as well.

Naoya tries his hardest to not socialize beyond necessary means, share nothing that pertains to personal matters.

But he couldn’t, because the more he spends time with you, the more he learns how much in common the two have. Things he didn’t think a girl like you would like, enjoy talking about, or even wanted to know more of.

It also helped that he found you very attractive. Perhaps the prettiest woman he’s seen in his life—but he sure liked being admired by you more.

However, let’s not forget this is a man that has been “deprived” of sex, so it doesn’t take long for him before he starts fantasizing about you: starting by notion of how your skin would feel against him—it’s warm, it’s scent.

To how you’d look underneath your clothes, how you’d squirm beneath him, begging him to take you and mark you as solely his with those desperate moans he can already hear through your lovely voice.

By that point, Naoya is already getting off at the thought of you about… daily, really. Getting hard the moment he sees you do anything remotely provocative, although unintentionally, or just because you’re there.

Porn is now with actresses that resemble you, immediately getting angry when he doesn’t find any that suits his preference, resorting to stalking your social media afterwards.

He’s highly grateful that you’ve trusted him to add you online, thinks you foolish for having done so. However, it came with a price:

Whenever he sees a glimpse, the faintest hint of another man alongside you, (or worse, in a relationship) makes him highly jealous, to the point of wanting to directly confront you and demand who was that?! And how dare you talk to him while seeing someone else!

Only to stop when (what little) his common sense tells him that if he does so, he might lose you permanently; and he doesn’t want to do that with the only person that has made him feel this way.

Besides, you once (seemingly unprovokedly) told him you were single. So there's that.

Yet, as much as he was obsessed with you, finished to the thought of you, hallucinates of you—he doesn’t go beyond that. Doesn’t do anything to make his dreams a reality.

Or more like you win him to it, one day asking him if “he’d like to get something to eat with you one day” and not precisely to work on that tedious group project, but as a…

“What—like… a date?” he asks bluntly, you look away for a brief second, flustered, before nodding.

So, he accepts, even when he thought he should’ve been the first one to ask but whatever, this is something he can still use to his advantage, precisely for his little setback.

The two end up going to a nearby mall, walking around to see the stores before getting something to eat and watching a movie.

Nothing happens there, as much as he would’ve liked to; however, you do lean into him, rest your head over your shoulder before grabbing his hand and remaining that way until the movie ended.

“I had fun, Naoya.” You’d say as he dropped you off at home. “I hope we can go out again.”

Let’s say Naoya didn’t sleep that night at all.

The two would continue to hang out, both inside and outside the campus, to the point everyone believed Naoya and you were now dating.

Neither denied nor confirmed the rumors for the question had yet to be asked, but even when Naoya had to admit that this was the most time he had invested to getting into a girl’s pants—he'd almost forgotten why he started all this in the first place.

Naoya was genuinely enjoying spending time with you, mostly because you didn’t run away when he began to grow more comfortable with you—although you would tell him to not say certain things (and he’d try, keyword: try)—and as stated before, you were... different.

But he still wanted it, of course. So it shouldn’t come to anyone’s surprise that after a few dates, long nights calling and texting one another, as well as insinuating wanting more, it finally happens.

The two agree to spend the night at Naoya’s apartment after spending the whole day together. How he managed to take you there in the first place, after being unable to keep hands off one another, is to be commended.

Naoya hastily takes you to his bedroom as soon as both walk through the door, where you’d get undressed before moving to the bed.

It’s apparent to you that he wants to get to the main course as soon as possible, yet there’s still hesitation behind his actions, starting from the bruteness behind his kisses, to the tremble in his fingers; almost as if he didn’t know what to do or how to touch you.

But your desire didn’t allow you to worry much about those trivial things, moving forward to the moment Naoya had been daydreaming of.

“Put the condom on, Naoya…” you whined as you laid back on the bed. Naoya, now on top of you, scoffs.

“Why? You’re the only one I’m seeing.” There’s the slightest tremble in his voice, but he means his words either way.

Besides, it’s his first time, he doesn’t want some stupid rubber getting in the way.

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant—we’re not even dating yet!” You jest with a giggle; and the thought of you begetting his child after your first night with him only makes him feel hotter. He wouldn’t mind marrying you, but one step at a time. “Just pull out, ok?”

Naoya was already near his limit when you said those words, but he’s pushed past the edge when hearing the sharp gasp you make upon seeing his cock.

He always knew he packed something good, but he was never sure until hearing your reaction, which certainly urged him to become more arrogant (incredibly) and eager.

And after some quick preparations, as well as mental encouragement from his side, it was finally time for the main event.

He’d had his fair share of reimaginations of what his first time would be like, the kind of pussy he’d like to see, and the beautiful girl he’d get as well.

But none of them compared to the real thing: it’s safe to say that you surpassed all expectations, and he couldn’t wait to have a taste of the pleasure he had been unfairly deprived fro—

“It’s a bit lower, Naoya.” You gently murmur, swiftly cutting through his thoughts, upon feeling his cock prod at… well, anywhere but your entrance.

“…Right.” He frowns, slightly embarrassed before swallowing, refocusing on the prize at hand, adjusting the tip a bit lower and onto your entrance.

He feels the warmth radiating of it as he coats on your glistening sick, before pushing past your tight rim in one swift, yet agonizingly pleasurable, movement.

Naoya never liked exaggeration; thought it to be immature, if not incredulous, but he can’t resort to anything else when describing the sensations he’s immediately engulfed with when entering your cunt.

The tightness, the warmth, it’s gumminess—it was all of his fantasies + more merging into his reality. Ones that just grew hotter and hotter the deeper he moved, making his plans of plummeting into you falter, lowly whimpering as he acknowledged what is happening.

He’s finally having sex—losing his virginity.

And it was so, so much better than he imagined.

It’s like getting high; with the world around him starting to spin as he could only think about staying inside you, relishing on the pleasure he should’ve gotten ages ago, but now it’s here and he—he…!

Naoya wants to move, wants to experience more of the vice grip of your walls on his cock, the softness of your breasts, or the warmth of your kisses.

All while making you scream, call out the name of the one making you feel this way!

But he can’t.

He just... can’t move; he doesn’t—he doesn’t know how to.

As much as he wants to, longed to do so, he’s forced instead to remain there while your body completely overtakes his senses: eyes blurry, jaw tightly clenched, alongside his desperate whines are just a few examples of this.

“Naoya, please…” you beg, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and moving him closer to you, enough to whisper against his ear, as your walls squeeze his cock, as to accentuating your neediness. “Fuck me”

He really, really wished you hadn’t done that.

“Y/N!” He gasps, finally moving his hips back before snapping them against you, mentally preparing for the long night ahead—

Only that he doesn’t move again as soon as he hits your cervix; instead, he keeps still yet again, deep inside you, while letting out a light groan before resting his head against the crook of your neck.

It doesn’t compute at first for you, believing something wrong had occurred, maybe he didn’t want to spend the night with you anymore—

Until a warm, sticky sensation begins to invade your walls; it’s then that everything falls into place, making your eyes snap to him, more than ready to scold him for going against your request—

Only to see that this hadn’t been voluntary; his tightly shut eyes and flustered face proving you other wise as he continued to indulge in this happening, a sensation he undeniably wishes to persevere…

Unless you were to pull him back to reality.

“Naoya—did you… did you just cum?”

“Wha—what?” he breathes, still capable of acknowledging you through the drowning sensation of his orgasm.

“Did you just cum?” you repeat. “Inside me—Naoya, did you—"

“What? No—I—” he says, wishing to refute your incredulous claim, excuse it had been nothing but your imagination, because he couldn’t be one of those!

But one quick look at your entrance was enough to prove him wrong, pulling his cock out and allowing his seed to drip down your pussy and to the sheets; proving that truly, he had finished as soon as he entered you.

“I didn’t—"

And this made him highly embarrassed, if not disappointed.

“Then what happened? You just moved and then—"

“Get out.” He inadvertently says, you blink.

“Excuse me?”

“I said—get out.”

"Naoya, I didn't—I don't think that's— let's talk fir—"

“Leave before I fucking drag out you myself!”

He doesn’t want to deal with this situation anymore, doesn’t want to feel further humiliated by his blatantly obvious inexperience, nor hear anything from you that might highlight this fact—that much is clear by his tone, which swiftly prompts you pick up your things, dress up, and leave him, alongside the notion that his life will be ruined from this point forward.

Because more than shame of the present, he fears the future:

He knows you’re going to tell others of his mishap, spread his disgrace as your life depended on it, further tarnishing his already soiled image for the rest of his life.

All that Naoya could think of from that moment forward was the lengths he’ll have to go to avoid facing the consequences of his ruined reputation: he’ll have to switch cities, change his number, perhaps even his name!

And not only that, but he’ll also have to live in isolation to avoid the jests that will undoubtedly come from his family once they hear of his mistake.

The rest he could tolerate; but this... this he cannot.

But when he returns to campus, expecting to be bombarded by his group of “friends” mocking him for acting like a horny teenager, alongside some other lies you created to further humiliate him…

Nothing seems to have changed.

In fact, everyone continued to act as they always did; his friends greeting him, the rest avoiding him… essentially allowing him to continue his daily routine like it was any other day.

Including meeting you in class.

Naoya does his best to avoid you, having arrived to the conclusion that you’re instead holding his misadventure as blackmail to use when it better suits your needs.

But he can’t, not when you insist on talking to him through class, almost enough to be reprimanded by the teacher.

“What do you want?!” he scowls as soon as the two are alone, in a far away classroom rarely anyone uses.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” You admit. “Why hadn’t you responded my—"

“For what? To make fun of me again??”

“What? No! I wasn’t—I didn’t make fun of you. Why would you even suggest—"

“Then what is it, Y/N? What other reason would you have for this, then?” you don’t respond, this makes him angrier. “Why haven’t you told anyone of what happened that night, hm? Waiting for the perfect moment?”

“What are you even saying?” you ask back, genuinely confused by his accusations. “I get it, it was… surprising, not exactly what anyone would want, but I’d never do that!”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Naoya goaded. “Certainly, you must know my reputation by now, all you could get by spreading something like that!”

“…Because that’s—that’s not what I want to do with someone I like!” You cry.

“What?” he asks, perplexed. Not an answer that aligned to his predispositions. “What do you mean you—you like me?”

He had some notion of that, blatantly obvious by the way you'd following him around like a lost puppy, or the whispers coming from those around you.

In other words, his shock came from the fact that he never believed it was genuine; maybe because deep inside him, he thought everyone always wanted something from him. Seemed to be like that, even up to this point, thinking one of his friends had maybe set you up for this, him willingly naive...

Yet, the evidence was outstandingly contrary.

“Why would I ask you out if I didn’t?” you insist; he shrugs. “…Is this common for you, Naoya? To have people talk behind your back and such?”

“A bit.”

“You need better friends.” You attempt to jest. He sighs.

“… So what? What do you want to talk about?” Naoya begins anew. You press your lips together.

“… I just wanted to tell you that I didn't care that... that happened. And that I didn't mean to do things to make you feel embarrassed, of course.” You explain. “Although I have to admit that it did startle me, thought you had done it in purpose… but then, I saw it was something else, and...”

“I’m assuming you already now that was my first—"

“It was my first time too.” You admit, he blinks, not believing your words. “At least… getting to that part.”

“You? Your first time?”

“I don’t know how to take that.” You frown.

“I was referring to what others think of you. You must’ve heard that by now." he says.

“Yeah; I have.” you admit. "But I'm not interested in that."

“Then why me? Why are even you doing all of this, even after that?”

“Because you don’t treat me like they do; to you, I’m just another student coming for class, not some shiny new toy some can’t wait to get their hands on..." you murmur, before chuckling. "And because you’re the most handsome one here!"

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow, doing his best to avoid his fluster from showing on his face.

You chuckle, Naoya smirks.

“… I thought it was cute.”

“What was?”

“…you know, that.” You silently admit, Naoya finally blushes. “I mean, I didn’t like you finishing inside me, but I... I never had anyone like me that much, you know? If anything... I’m surprised you haven’t done this with anyone else.”

“It’s simply my reality.” he says; some things are just incapable of being explained.

“Well then, I’m flattered I was the first one.” You grin. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

“I’m the one supposed to say that.” He frowns, you giggle. “… so… what does this mean?”

“…That we can try it again, everything I mean. I still like you, after all...” you chuckle nervously, before looking away. “But only if you still want to, of course, I don't want to sound like I'm—”

“Dinner; tonight, in my apartment.” He says immediately. “After 7, once I’m done working out, I'll go pick you up.”

“I’d like that.” You smile, taking a step closer. “But first we have to finish our group assignment! Also, don’t kick me out again! Or I won’t take it nicely this time…”

“Then my girlfriend shouldn’t tease me.” Naoya smirks, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him, hands resting on your waist. You pout, flustered.

“Don’t make it too easy.” You respond, tiptoeing to kiss him. “…my dear boyfriend.”

it's like all universes will have me writing naoya and y/n ending up together; you'll have to specify otherwise if you don't want to i'm sorry that's just how it is here.

also I recently saw american psycho and idk why (I guess it makes sense) but the whole dynamic of patrick bateman and his colleagues makes me think of Naoya; like they'll always be competition, seeing who is better in what—but even then, no one really likes Naoya HAHAHAH

anyways, i had fun humiliating Naoya a bit :) y/n really committed to the unconditional love thing here—but now that I'm done with this, I can certainly say this is more of a bottom!naoya kind of thing. It truly feels like it, doesn't it? hehe.

Hope you enjoyed it either way!! Thank you for sending in this ask ❤️ Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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