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pizzaapeteer · 2 months

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𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Hello, it's been a while, but I finally got a burst of inspiration in light of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge. I used the prompt 'or is it because you're not in love with me?' almost 3k. Mattheo x female reader, fluff, with a hint of lewd thoughts He knew you were off limits, a line he wasn't supposed to cross. She was A forbidden desire, and maybe that’s what made him want her so badly. Despite these feelings, ones that he couldn’t seem to suppress, Mattheo knew it would never end well if his best friend Theo found out he’d developed a crush on his bloody sister. He’d sure have him thrown off the astronomy tower before he could even so much as utter a word of apology. But how could he not, when she was always around, always taking up room in his head. Although she was a year younger than Mattheo and the others, she shared a close bond with her brother. Meaning she spent a majority of her time cooped up in Theo’s shared dorm. She fitted in so well, always making the group laugh, leaving Mattheo often with sore cheeks after spending time with her. It’s not like Mattheo would ever act on these emotions, doubting she even thought about him past another brother-like figure. He cared for his relationship with Theo too much to do anything stupid. Though the temptations were there, whenever she would ask him a question, the sound of her voice like honey setting the butterflies in his stomach on a rampage to where he felt sick. Her smile was so captivating, drawing his attention towards her even on the gloomiest days.

Even away from her, his mind was constantly consumed by thoughts of her. He’d sit at home, running his hands through his hair. It was fucking him up. Doing his best to keep his feelings to himself, always aware of Theo’s eyes on him supervising. His threat constantly on repetition in his head, “If you ever even look at her past platonic, I’ll feed you to a horntail dragon”. His words drive him to act nonchalant around her, treating her like one of the boys. Like a friend who he had absolutely no interest in. Little did Mattheo know, Theo had repeated the near-to-the same speech to her. Theo knew what his friends were like, and while he appreciated the close relationship his sister shared with them, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. His protectiveness for her blinded his view on the way Mattheo seemed to truly care for her. She, on the other hand, had assured her brother that he needed not to worry. Though she didn’t admit it to Theo, she was convinced Mattheo only saw her as his best friend's sister. His demeanor had always been apathetic, showing no other interest in her other than a friend. She was good at hiding her true feelings, but her heart felt contused, hating how he’d deftly crawled his way in. He’d probably done it to countless girls before her, and that fact stung her deeply. That was the hardest part about being around him, knowing she couldn't have him and he'd never want her.

_______________________________________________

It was currently Friday evening. The classic group of your brother's friends had been lounging in his dorm before you had challenged everyone, to who could create the best muggle fort. The room filled with tipsy laughter, everyone having passed around the firewhiskey Enzo and Blaise had sneaked in. The group was divided into two, with you being partnered with Blaise and Theo. You had thought the three of you were doing well despite your disadvantage of one man down, Mattheo's absence due to another detention. But your optimism was dropping as you watched for the third time as the fort collapsed, with Blaise accusing Theo again of being a useless twat for misplacing the pegs. Across from you, you eyed the way the others had worked, laughing as Daphne and Pansy practically ordered Draco and Enzo into working together well. Though you could see the firewhiskey in the boys' systems wasn’t helping, as they had started arguing about the best way to create the fort. You rolled your eyes, giggling at the stupidity of how the night had unfolded. Taking another drink from the bottle, you clapped your hands and explained your game plan to your team, eludicating to them. “Right, you two idiots, I’m going to connect the fort together from the inside, while you two hold it together from the outside. Make sure you pass me a peg when I yell.” You eyed your brother, laughing slightly as he held his hands up defensively. Mattheo made his way down the Slytherin dorm corridors, hearing the sounds of his friends vibrate off the walls. He shoved open the door, readily expecting the ruckus he was about to be greeted with a grin cracking. “Wassup fuck-”, his mouth dropped, brows raising as he takes in the current commotion happening in the crowded room. His eyes are first drawn to the loud bickering occurring between Theo and Blaise. “How long have you been putting pegs on me!? That’s bloody why we can’t find any more!” Blaise complains, reaching around his back to take them off his shirt. Theo struggles to steady himself against the wall as he hurls over, cracking up, gripping his stomach, deep laughter exploding from him. Mattheo’s brows remained raised, watching in amusement as Blaise struggled, spinning around himself like a dog to pry off the pegs.

Mattheo’s gaze shifts as he steps further into the room, dropping his bag on the floor, the sounds of Draco complaining in the mirror. His hands moving in an aggressive action, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles he created during the fort building. Daphne sits beside him, filming his displeasure with her own enjoyment. Mattheo rolls his eyes at his cousin, losing his tie, as his attention is swept once again. This time by Pansy and Enzo, who seem to have moved on after the success of their fort by now throwing lollies into one another’s mouth. He spins around again, his curiosity peaks as he wonders where the last member of the group is. His heart drops at the thought of you being absent from the night, the expectation of seeing you having pushed him through his boredom in detention. His curiosity is cured when the faint sound of your voice is heard calling out from inside your fort. “Would you two stop bickering and cooperate! I need another peg. I'm literally holding this thing together from the inside!”

Mattheo chuckles deeply, being the only one to hear you over all the commotion. He takes a peg off Blaise’s back, bending down to pop his head into the fort. He grins at the awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in, finding it amusing and also stupid that you left the two most difficult sheets to be pegged together last. His eyes drift down your figure, taking in the cute loungewear set you had on as you puffed a piece of hair out of your face, sighing irritably. He knows he should just hand you the peg, but his impulsive thoughts and the fact that you two were actually alone for once made him act. As he leans over your shoulder, reaching forward to peg the two sheets together, making the fort stabilize. Your body shivers slightly as his body retracts back, his curls brushing against your cheek, causing your body to warm up. You let go of the sheets, turning now to face him, unaware of how close he still is to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in, leaving you unprepared for his now close presence. He shifts back, allowing reasonable space between you two, and you let out a small sigh out, brushing it off as just an act of kindness, nothing more than platonic. You smile casually, “Oh, glad you could finally join us. What was the detention for this time, Riddle?” You tilt your head slightly, teasing him. His mouth pulls in a half smile before he rolls his eyes at your taunt, “This one wasn’t actually my fault, the guy was just asking for it. Fucking first years.” He scrunches his face in fake annoyance, watching you laugh at his grumble. His eyes meet yours for a moment, taking in the way your face is lit up before he shifts his attention to the fort. He was quite surprised with the fact it was actually staying up considering how intoxicated the others actually seemed. “Let me guess, this was your idea Ace.” You let out a light laugh, averting your eyes to the interior of the fort. Praying your cheeks were keeping their composure, feeling the rush of heat hit them at the nickname. You’d always had a soft spot for the nickname, though you doubted it was only being used in a friendly manner. Nodding your head to his question, your eyes still gazing at the roof of the fort, feeling something was missing. “Yeah, I thought it would be a fun competition. Not too late for you to help out though. I still wanna hang some fairy lights so we can see. Can you grab them for me?” Mattheo nodded, lazily leaning only his upper body out the fort entrance, posing himself in a way that gave you a good view of his ass. Unsure if he had done it on purpose or not, you tried not to stare too long, but the way it curved nicely in his pants was making your mind run wild. As Mattheo stuck his head out the entrance, spotting the others in a discussion, catching the end of their conversation about sneaking into the kitchens. “Oi, grab me a pack of MnMs,” he calls out to them, as they head out the dorm door. He spots the fairy lights reaching out his outstretched hand, grabbing them before retracting back into the fort. He twisted around, noticing the way your eyes darted around before meeting his gaze. His chest thumps at the realization that the two of you are alone, chuckling to himself that your brother must be too far gone to have noticed. He passes the tangled lights to you with a sly grin. “What did you do with these last? Tie someone up with them?” You roll your eyes at his joke, your cheeks definitely blushing now. You move closer to grab a fistful of lights, slowly untangling them, “Ha ha”. Not bothering to actually reply more than that, the two of you work in a somewhat comfortable silence despite your heart practically pumping out of your chest. His hands work skillfully, untangling the knots down the string. He was clearly good with his fingers. You bit your lip as your mind started wandering off as lewd thoughts swarmed through it. Merlin, what would your brother think, if he knew the ideas Mattheo was unawarely filling yours with.

You spun around feeling your body relax now that you were no longer in his direct eyesight, as you squatted to peg the lights up around the fort. The sound of your friends returning allowed a breath to be exhaled, one you didn’t know you were holding. The temptation of just being alone with Mattheo was proving to be difficult. You grinned, beaming at the finished success of the fort, the lights twinkled giving off a cozy and relaxed ambiance. Mattheo’s felt himself crack a grin at the appearance of your happiness. He’d never get over the way it made him feel as if sunshine was being shone brightly inside him. He patted your thigh gently, “Looks good Ace.” Before you can react to his touch, the others burst through, chucking pillows and blankets in a multitude of places as they all arrange themselves. You move out of the way watching as Pansy sets up a projector for you all to watch a film.

As the movie started, you rotated quickly to find a spot, coincidently noticing only one left beside Mattheo. He had made sure not to make you uncomfortable, leaving enough space between you both, as you squeezed in beside him, laying on your stomach. Laying side by side, your shoulder grazing him as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Throughout the movie, you couldn’t stop fiddling, slipping your thumb in and out of the makeshift hole you had made. Mattheo lay his hands out in front of him, his eyes drawn to the movement of your fingers fidgeting. He played with his own thumbs trying to focus on the screen, the urge to reach out and embrace your own hand in his. Though with you distracted, he inched closer to you as stealthily as possible, as to not scare you away or draw any attention to himself. His eyes moved to check out for Theo, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, probably having taken an edible. His eyes moving back up to yours, as you offered him some Mnms, graciously accepting.

Moving to put the chocolates back in the middle, you used the moment to peer at him, noticing him distracted by the movie. You were trying to act as normal as possible, feeling the way his heat flowed onto yours from the closeness of your bodies. The illumination of the lights were cast upon him, allowing you to make out his appearance under the soft glow of the fort. Taking in the pretty colour of his mahogany eyes and the sweet shape of his rosy lips as he licked the chocolate off them. You couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like to kiss. You had thought you were doing a good job of being discreet when Mattheo leans into you to whisper, “You're staring Ace.” His voice was quiet enough as to not capture the attention of the others. You froze momentarily, your heart beating, not realising how close he was to your face. Before you whispered back, “You’ve got chocolate on your face.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you pray, your response was quick and clever enough to cover up that fact that you had been caught. You kept your eyes glued to his, trying to give off the appeal that you were being serious.

His face spreads into a cheeky grin, whispering back. “Sure it’s not because you’re in love with me.” He had said it as a joke but realised as he watched your eyes widen that his whispering may have made it come across differently. His own brows scrunched in realisation as he makes out through the dim lights, a faint tint of redness creeping up your cheeks. You averted your eyes back to the TV, your heart hammering as you repeated his words over in your head. You were panicking, your eyes darting over to your brother. If anyone else heard and saw your reaction, you totally would have given away your feelings for him. You chewed on your lip before you cursed at yourself, for now realizing by not replying you were making the situation look worse. You look back at him, the small amount of firewhiskey flowing through you. “That’s very cocky of you to assume, Riddle”. Your initial reaction to his comment gave him the confidence to nudge your shoulder slightly. “Am I wrong though?” he challenged, keeping his voice low. Though he didn’t get to hear your response as Pansy shushed the two of you, making you both look away from one another. You could hardly concentrate on the rest of the movie after the latest turn of events. Your brain was working on overdrive to calm your anxiety. Of course he’d be the one to make your brain melt, turning you back into your fourteen old-self reminding you of when you first met him. He must think you’re insane. He’s probably laughing it up that Theo’s sister is in love with him. You felt trapped, wanting to escape, feeling like a joke. Caught up in your own panicked nightmare, the soft feeling of fingers pulls your attention, brushing against your hand.

Mattheo had rolled his eyes at Pansy, shushing them, watching the way you averted your eyes from him. His mind was buzzing at the possibility of you actually being into him. He pinched himself, harder than he expected flicking his hand in pain before resting it beside yours. In the fort's darkness, he took the impulsive decision to rest his fingertips against yours. He made the action gentle, not wanting you to react badly. His pinky brushed against yours, and his heartbeat quickened when he felt the sudden movement of your reciprocation. He glanced up at the others, noticing no one paying any mind to the two of you, moving his gaze back to you. A small smile rested on your lips, though your eyes were glued to the movie. He couldn’t help but risk taking it further and slid his fingers into yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

Mattheo’s mind filled with only thoughts of you as he blankly stared at the projector. Your hand in his felt like the most natural thing, and he couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. How could such a small action reduce him to feeling like a giddy schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone's hand. As the movie progressed, the two of you didn’t break contact, fingers staying intertwined. You finally turned to look at him, your eyes studying his sweet brown eyes. It was a quiet moment, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They knew they were crossing a line, treading into dangerous territories if Theo ever found out. But the emotions shining in Mattheo’s eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, inflamed a desire that you knew was too good to ignore.

Masterlist

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo reader x f reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys #theo nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #hogmarch challenge

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butterfly-music-magic · 1 year

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Courage

Inhale Courage

Exhale Fear

Pause do not breath in yet,

Count to 10 in your head

Inhale Courage

Exhale Fear

Pause do not breath in yet,

Count to 10 in your head

Inhale Courage

Exhale Fear

#anxiety #fear #panic #optimism #meditation #fluff #neurodiverse stuff #love #neurodiversity #gifted #puase #pause #count to 10 #lost #lonely #poets on tumblr #courage

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onlyswan · 2 months

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summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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hoony2k · 3 months

Text

HEART 2 HEART

I aint never seen two chill idols in a room, one of them is always obesessed with the other. Or

Idol!enha giving idol!you heart eyes in professional settings.

PAIRING: ot7

GENRE: fluff, crack, established lovers, secret lovers, idol x idol

WORD COUNT: 3k (help)

WARNINGS: mentions of innocent kissing that's it. I got possessed during hoon and hee's.

NOTE: hii this was so fun. I kind of wanted niki and sunoo's to be a bit longer but I yapped a bit too much in general. this is massive for a 7 member drabble but 1 para wouldn't do justice. hope you enjoy!

Part 1 -> we dating fr?

Part 3 -> cut the cameras

requested masterlist

★ HEESEUNG:

He thinks everything’s a game!!he thinks its funny! But mr lee who is laughing? Not him rn

You’re walking in the hallways after a quick trip to the washroom when suddenly someone grabs your arm and pulls you into a room. You’re ready to scream but he swiftly covers your mouth and chants “It’s me. It’s me” like that’ll help you understand why your boyfriend thought it would be a good idea to lead you into a small clothing room.

You want to get mad at him for a billion reasons but mainly because what if someone saw? and misunderstood! But his stupid smile tells you how he doesn’t care. Sometimes you want to have his optimism and confidence, maybe then you two could live a carefree idol life.

Heeseung wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to fiddle with the bows on your outfit and hair. Your faux anger slowly crumbles as he stares at you like you painted the night sky and hung the stars on it. Still, you break eye contact just to dust your pride and Heeseung can not stop laughing, finding you cuter than ever.

“I have to go soon. We can’t get caught”, you remind him, the overwhelming time restraint burdens you every time you meet him outside his dorms and as usual, Heeseung doesn’t mind. He shrugs casually, then gives you a reckless smile, eyes hooded. “Who cares?”

Your heart skips a beat in the best way but you purse your lips and pretend to think it over. A hum escapes you, tapping your finger on his chin. He leans closer.

“Probably our managers, you know?”, you say knowing he’s far too busy admiring your eye makeup to even care about the consequences of what would happen if someone were to open the door. So, you do the most logical thing a person subjugated with love could do. Taking his smiley face in your grasp, you turn his head and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, intentionally pressing into his skin to leave a stain.

You pull back to inspect the pink gloss on his cheek, lightly smudged. Heeseung looks like he’s floating but before he can pull any stunts you clap him on the back as a goodbye and quickly scurry out of the room. Not even bothering to check if someone was in the hallway.

If Heeseung stands alone dazed for a while…no one needs to know. He fights his demons when he brings out a tissue to remove your gloss, sobbing internally.

★ JAY:

You will be my girl my girl my girl <3

Jay had told you about how he’d film the Sweet Venom TikTok challenge with you to prepare you beforehand. You had learnt the dance long ago, but the mental preparation to become a different person in front of Jay from Enhypen and a camera took some mental energy. Acting like you were strangers and not a couple filming a silly video wasn’t what you wanted but you were thankful no one spread dirty rumours.

His manager held the camera to film some behind-the-scenes footage of Jay “teaching” you what to do in the challenge and it was kind of funny. But when it came to filming, Jay did everything to be able to spend some extra time with you without seeming suspicious.

He’d get the timing wrong on purpose, he’d bump into you, with the smallest nudge and he’d quickly pause the challenge to apologise. Each time he’d falter or force himself to be out of sync, to have one eye slightly closed, you’d laugh it off, genuinely finding his actions endearing.

He’s excited to film it with you, he can’t wait to show how good you two look, and how his dance style compliments yours, and he can’t wait to see his fans react, gushing over you, throwing heart emojis for his girl.

It was rare for to Jay get so stubborn so you entertained it and laughed. The manager didn’t mind as long as she farmed enough footage but eventually puts her foot down when the behind-the-scenes videos turns longer than 2 minutes and the challenge hasn't reached its middle yet.

She politely tells Jay to rehearse once more and she’d film it after that. The rehearsed one goes by smoothly; the steps are muscle memory at this point.

Before the final take, Jay wants to tell you good luck but almost slips and lays it all out in the open as he parts his lips to call you “Babe”. At the utterance of the first syllable, you snap your head in his direction, eyes piercing his soul, not a hint of a smile.

Jay catches his tongue and switches it to another similar word and thankfully it isn’t noticeable nor is it understood by the manager who assumes Jay’s nerves cause him to slur over his speech. No big deal.

Slightly nervous, Jay glances at you and you offer him an understanding nod. Then the final take begins and everything goes smoothly. When the challenge ends, you turn to bow and he thanks you for joining him. As the manager gives you a thumbs up and taps away on her phone preoccupied, you turn to Jay with a raised brow and he blushes.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”.

★ JAKE:

Personal space? Never heard of her

It’s been hours since you’ve arrived and Jake has not stopped smiling for even a second. He’s over the moon he can’t believe how well you fit into his social circle (enha) like a puzzle piece he was missing this whole time. He’s not sappy but he could write an entire sonnet on how gorgeous you look lounging on his bed, eating take out and brushing your hair back as you watch the movie with him.

But when you announce it’s time to leave, he does not stop sulking and begging you. Literally on his knees. The moment you try to get out of bed, he grabs onto your arm and pulls you tight into his embrace, nose in your hair, he pretends he’s asleep when you ask him to let go.

“My manager just texted me”, you tell him but your hands find his free hand. He rubs a thumb over your hand and you feel like you just kicked a wet puppy into mud. He groans into your hair, slowly and subtly, his legs wrap around your own as if he’s trying to merge your bodies.

“Tell her your phone exploded”, his voice is muffled and immediately you stop feeling bad.

You whine his name and try again but he refuses to budge, and when he tries to pull his bed covers on your frame, you decide to threaten him, “I’ll scream for Jay I’m not playing. I’m overdue curfew”.

“Door’s locked”. HELLO??

You sigh and let your head rest on his pillow that smells exactly like him, ignore the flutter in your rib cage and rest for just a minute. Jake mistakes it as a sign of you surrendering, his grip loosening. You don’t waste a second and throw his caged arms off and jump out of bed and he begins to sulk and wail at the loss of contact. But as much as you love him, you can finally breathe without the weight of your chest.

“I like the idol you better. The one who acts like he doesn’t know me”.

“He wouldn’t treat you like I do”.

He’s ready to have beef with idol Jake if it is meant to impress you. When he’s tying up your shoelaces for you, he’s like “I’ll walk you home” and you tell him he cannot do that because people are always snooping so you’ll get a taxi and he’s like “I’ll walk you downstairs and wait until you sit inside”.

How could you say no to his puppy eyes?

★ SUNGHOON:

he’s on cloud nine because his wish finally came true. He’s radiating light wherever he goes.

He sat next to you, far too close for it to appear platonic but Sunghoon told you not to worry. He tells you not to worry when he’s facing you, knees brushing, you can feel his body heat despite the cool in the room. You’re trying your hardest not to stare at him or how he’s rolled up his dress shirt sleeves despite his stylist’s scolding, or how they slicked his hair back with gel but left one strand to dangle on his forehead, how it curves and makes his eyes seem sharper than they are.

You’re trying, ok?

It’s better than Sunghoon who cannot stop leaning in your personal space as he reads his lines off your shoulder for some reason, he giggles when you try to push him away but he clings like a magnet. The floor vibrates with heavy bass, you’re up again in ten minutes and you need him to get serious.

Unlike him, it’s your first time mc-ing and despite his hype boy attitude, your fingers still shake as you read your lines out loud. Sunghoon’s smile flickers until he remembers he can do something to help.

“Hey, just focus on me”, he says calmly, ironically the one thing you’ve been trying not to do.

But, with blind trust, you agree and your gaze lands on his. His eyes twinkle and crinkle, he stares back at you and you think you’ve started to smile like an idiot. You turn your eyes to soak in his outfit once more, he matches your formal dress, a deep red satin dress paired with similar gloves. He’s adorned in dark slacks that emphasise his stature, and a dark dress shirt with a maroon tie. His tie is crooked-

Out of instinct or perhaps it stems from the urge to hold his hands, feel his heartbeat under your fingers, you reach out, hands settling on his shoulders, then inch towards his neck to tighten and straighten the knot. Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave your serious expression, a lovesick smile hangs on his face. Your hands press onto the material to flatten it and fix his collars like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

Something clatters and smashes loudly.

You rip your hands off his shoulders and he suddenly feels cold. Sunghoon pouts but you quickly turn away, surprisingly less scared than before. You glance in front and see your stylist give orders, someone says another band is preparing for an interview in 5. Finally, you grip the cards tightly in your hands but don’t even spare them a glance. Instead, you lock eyes with your lover who had been looking fondly at you the whole ordeal.

“let’s go over this one last time for your sake”.

Sunghoon laughs.

★ SUNOO:

Therapists hate him. He’s a mastermind at manipulation.

Both of you are chosen along with another idol and actor to partake in a reality show where you all live together and go on an adventure it’s all a great experience and you get to interact with new lovely people but when it’s late at night, the crew has gone to their hotel, cameras have been turned off, you, Sunoo and the actor gather at the dining table.

Sunoo keeps smiling at you and the actor and he offers to peel mandarins. As he peels, the conversation flows smoothly, his fingers work quickly and skillfully. Even though his eyes are downcast, his change in expressions tell you he’s listening to the conversation.

Out of respect, he offers the actor a plate with the most mandarin slices and out of habit, he slides to you the plate with the juiciest and scrumptious slices, choosing the dry ones for himself. You shyly thank him and Sunoo brushes it off. He only realizes what he’s done and how much of a deal it is when the actor questions if he’s a good friend of yours.

Sunoo bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling, he waves his hand in dismal, he looks at you up and down. You refuse to make eye contact.

“Something like that”.

His open-ended answer renders you speechless and you pretend to be busy when the actor looks at you. You untie your hair for it to cover your heated ears and fake cough as you take another bite.

Sunoo offers you a napkin. His hand stretches over the table and all eyes are on you, the actor is on the edge of his seat as he observes you like a hawk.

As nonchalant as you can be, you roll your shoulders and take it from him. Despite your efforts to avoid skin contact, Sunoo flicks his wrist and his fingers delicately brush yours, sparks light up inside your stomach.

You quietly thank him and he shows off his charming smile. the actor next to you sighs loudly and glances at the clock before thanking Sunoo for the mandarins. Sunoo shines another smile at the man who glances between the two of you.

“Chemistry like this is hard to find. If you two end up dating, I’ll be supporting you”.

This time you choke on the juice and Sunoo springs up to give you a glass of water and pats your back for safety. The actor nods once more then leaves. When the coughing fit dies down, you ask Sunoo what all that was about, he tells you not to worry. He peeks at the camera as a precaution, it’s got a lid covering the lens. Then, he bends down to kiss your hair and brings your plate closer to him so he can feed you. Your heart attempts to jump onto the table when he affectionately begins to stroke your hair as well.

Friends be damned, you’ve hit the lover jackpot.

★ JUNGWON:

He loves his job but hates all the parts where he has to be too pretend his personal life doesn’t exist.

“I wish you were here with me”, he says the moment you pick up. You pout, shoulders sag immediately.

He notices this and almost feels bad as he caresses his phone screen like it’s a glass screen dividing him and the fish at an aquarium. The thought makes him laugh. He wants to spend the entire night talking to you, memorising your presence, pretending you're cuddled next to him but he can’t go through with his urges because you need to sleep.

Jungwon would never want you to disturb your sleep routine, no matter how many times you text or tell him that you want to do these things for him, it's only natural.

“I bought you a keychain”, you tell him, voice cracking over the call. He adjusts his camera, brows raised. You know what he’ll say so you answer, “You’ll see it when I give it to you”.

He pouts and brings the camera closer to his face to coax you into showing it, his tired eyes sparkle and almost distract you from his dark circles. Your heart sinks. What time is it there? You don’t need to calculate because you had already memorized the time difference by heart before he departed.

“Baby, it’s 2 am there”.

He shakes his head, hair flicking him in the eye, he squints up at you and unconsciously buries himself under his comfy hotel blankets. You stare at your lover, take in his appearance and admire how hard he works to achieve his dreams, how he wants to be a good boyfriend and tick all the boxes that make your heart soar. He looks like he’ll fall asleep in the peaceful silence so you grant him an offer.

“Would you like me to sing you to sleep?”

His dimple greets you and under the covers where you can’t see, Jungwon rubs his legs together, giddy like a child.

“Sing your next song for me”, he whispers and you gasp at him, taken back by the new information. It’s your turn to squint at him as you ask him about how he knew you were preparing for a comeback. He shakes his head and mumbles, “You changed your makeup”.

Makeup…that was only evident in pictures. You hadn’t met him all dolled up behind stage due to your schedules and could barely fit an hour with him at his dorm because you two were so busy. Yet he had noticed, somehow in a supernatural but very Jungwon way and your face heated up.

Your melody filtered through his speakers, it only took a minute for Jungwon’s breathing to even out, his hand going limp and the phone falling backwards to give you a view of the ceiling light.

Still, you finish the song and wish him a good night. Whisper a soft I love you in the dimly lit room, a saccharine confession that he’ll hear confidently soon.

★ NIKI:

Bro thinks hes in an edit‼️literally moves slowly like that when he sees you, r&b song playing in this head

On the encore stage, other bands including yours bow to Enha and in those 4 seconds, Niki decides to take a shot.

He thanks you with a bow and when you turn your attention to Jungwon, Niki speaks your name. It's far too gentle to be caught in the mic and he faces his head toward you so the back of his head is captured by the camera.

But like a compass, you always find his voice, when he calls for you in the hallways or when he's talking to other people in his makeup room, your ears seem to find him before your eyes do.

As you turn your wide eyes to him, unaware of his plans, Niki's boxy smile vanishes. He gazes at you through lidded eyes that appear striker more so than ever due to his bold makeup and he renders you speechless, cupid shooting you with several arrows.

You're paused mid-bow, face heating up under Niki's stare and smug smile, professional composure crumbling. There's a siren going off in your head, the cameras!

But what do they know? They can't even see your lover's expression, only the tilt of his head and dark wavy hair that tickles his neck. A part of you, a possessive side is overjoyed they can't. Swiftly, Jungwon covers your body and gives Niki a nasty side eye which finally manages to pull you out of the trance.

You return to thanking them and saying whatever nonsense comes to mind, Jungwon understands but Niki cackles loudly. As fast as this interaction happens, you fall back and merge with the crowd that walks off stage.

Thankfully, no one could figure out what happened but they made assumptions based on your expressions. That hype dies down in the fandoms but Niki can't stop replaying the moment on his end. It's a free amv for songs, he's never going to stop thinking about it.

Thank you for reading!

All rights belong to me. Please do not copy/translate/edit.

2K notes · View notes

mikareo · 3 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom.

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal.

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all.

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself.

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too.

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself.

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough.

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind.

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side.

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal.

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years.

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant.

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit.

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right.

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice.

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing.

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird.

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel.

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose.

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays.

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe.

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is.

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him.

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose.

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards.

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

1K notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 4 months

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nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre: smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting.

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart.

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers.

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine.

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?”

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.”

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground.

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.”

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious.

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside.

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought.

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously.

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace.

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?”

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side.

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

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uchiha-archives · 5 months

Text

Eternal Love

Summary: Nobody loves as intensely as an Uchiha, and no Uchiha loves as intensely as Uchiha Madara. He will bring this world to its knees just to avenge her and to be reunited with her again, and as far as he’s concerned, he will succeed. Damn anyone who dares to get in his way.

Genre: Marriage!AU, Established Relationship!AU, Uchiha Couple!AU, Reanimation Jutsu!AU, Fluff!AU, Fluff-Smut!AU, Angst!AU (Barely Any Angst, Just Some Sprinkles - Happy Endings All Around)

Pairings: Uchiha Madara x Wife! Reader, Uchiha Madara x Uchiha! Reader

Warnings: Possessiveness/Protectiveness (Very Mild), Death and Mentions of Death (Mainly Flashbacks), Reanimation of the Dead, War/Conflict (No Matter the Era), Fighting/Mild Violence

Word Count: 8,303

Written: October 27th, 2023, Posted: November 30th, 2023

When you opened your eyes, you weren’t expecting to be greeted by a boy you didn’t recognize with red eyes that you just knew were the Sharingan.

You instinctively raised your guard and as soon as you could feel yourself get in full control of your body you activated your own Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan and took a step back, ready to counter if necessary. You had to be prepared, - your vision was still blurry from being woken up and everything was still slightly disorienting even with the Sharingan but you couldn’t let your opponent see that.

Once your vision started to come back into focus you took a quick look around your surroundings and saw Hashirama and Tobirama, standing alongside who you knew to be Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, and a blonde man you didn’t recognize. A little further behind were a few more people you also didn’t recognize, but the hand sign that the pale one held in place let you know that they were one to reanimate you.

You let go of the annoyance you felt at someone using that Jutsu and refocused, looking until your gaze found the boy from earlier whose red eyes you woke to. What you saw made you let out a small gasp. “… Izuna…? Is that you, Izuna?” You took a small step further, your brows furrowing, before you paused. “No, your Chakra is different. But there’s no denying, you look just like him.” You spoke with a small smile on your face, stepping a little closer. You knew it was mostly impossible to see Izuna in the world of the living again but this boy’s face gave you a large burst of optimism.

“Just as smart as I’ve read you to be, the great Uchiha Y/N. You’ve already read everyone’s Chakra signatures beforehand to be prepared in case of battle. What a brilliantly tactical move, as expected from your caliber.” You looked back towards the pale man with the long black hair, your anger growing again before you narrowed your eyes at the younger Senju brother.

“Tobirama,” your voice was calm but extremely firm, “I thought I told you never to use this Jutsu. I also recall telling you that this should never be documented. For this exact reason,” you emphasized. You created the Reanimation Jutsu. It was something you made in a dark time of your life that still hurt you to think about.

It was lovely in your ancestral Uchiha home, passed down from your family for as long as they could remember. It was the same house you lived in with your husband. You enjoyed the happiness that you felt every day, until it felt like it just started to go down from there. Your clan always at war with the Senju clan, the death of your brother-in-law that started your husband’s spiral, your husband’s defection from the village, and ultimately, his death. It broke you in more ways than you could explain.

When the Senju brothers came to your home to tell you of your husband’s death, you almost collapsed on the spot in grief and rage. The younger brother starts your husband’s path of revenge by killing your brother-in-law, and the older brother ends it along with your beloved husband’s life. They had officially taken everything from you.

It took a lot of time, and a lot of understanding, but you learned not to blame the Senju brothers for what had happened to Izuna and Madara. It hurt you every single day, but you just learned to live with it, burying yourself in your work and missions to compensate. It was on one of these days where you were working on a new Jutsu that you invented when Tobirama offered to join and help if you taught it to him. You allowed him as he did not ask you any questions, simply offering his presence in your mourning, never questioning your judgement or your decisions.

When you believed the Jutsu to be complete, you could tell immediately that it was not something that should be used. It was cruel in nature and you ultimately felt that it went against your morals and also the way of an honorable Kunoichi. It was a Jutsu that would not let the dead lay in final rest, instead waking them up in a cold and shrewd manner, letting the caster control the freedom of those that have crossed over to another world. It was unnatural, wrong.

You were desperate to bring back your husband, and you were willing to try anything. But this, you remember thinking as you saw your Jutsu at work, this is not how I want him back. And so, you made Tobirama swear to never record it and let this die with the both of you. Nobody needed to know that something like this was ever possible in this world. Clearly, he didn’t listen.

“I told you that that was a bad idea, Tobirama. Although, it is very good to see you, Y/N.” Hashirama let out a laugh as he patted your shoulder, letting Tobirama continue to sulk behind him as he tried to duck away from your glare, - just as intimidating as the rest of your clan, Tobirama rubbed at his neck.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t write down all of it, I made sure I kept it recorded as an incomplete Jutsu just for good measure. I completely removed a few of the sections that took me weeks to figure out. With what was left in the scrolls, nobody should’ve been able to correctly perform it.” Tobirama tried to alleviate his mistake but the pale one spoke again, drawing your eyes to him.

“It was not a hard Jutsu to make sense of, Lord Second.” He smiled in a way that put you on edge, like he was someone to always be wary of. You let it go for now, knowing you couldn’t do anything about it at this moment, and instead embraced Hashirama.

“No point dwelling on it now. It is good to see you, old friend. You as well, Tobirama,” you called out to the younger Senju who gave you a small smile. “Hiruzen, you’ve aged,” you jested as the man you knew to be the admirable Third Hokage let out a laugh.

“And you are just as beautiful as ever, Lady Y/N.” You gave him a gentle smile before turning to regard the man with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. He was new, a man you did not recognize, and yet you could see the trustworthiness in his eyes. He was a good man, you could tell. Not an ounce of malevolence in his Chakra at all.

“I apologize, but I do not recognize you.” You gave him the room to introduce himself.

“Ah!” The man exclaimed before turning around and pointing to the letters on his coat, “I am the Fourth Hokage, Lady Y/N. My name is Namikaze Minato, an honor to meet the Queen of the Uchiha clan in person.” He was a gentle soul. You smiled at him, giving him a gentle bow of your head to show you respected him. He seems like he made an honorable Hokage.

“Eh?!” You all turned your head to see a woman with bright red hair looking at you in shock. A woman of the Uzumaki clan, you assumed from her red-hot hair and her large levels of Chakra. “What do you mean the ‘Queen of the Uchiha clan’?!”

“She’s the legendary Kunoichi, Uchiha Y/N! How can you not tell, Karin?” It was another boy with white hair and sharp teeth that spoke. From Kirigakure, you could tell by his unique features.

“Suigestu is correct, Karin. And another very important fact: She is Uchiha Madara’s wife. Hence the title of Queen.” The Uchiha boy spoke.

“Wait, if you’re the Fourth,” Hashirama started, “then who’s the Fifth Hokage?”

“It’s your granddaughter, Princess Tsunade,” the pale one replied, making you huff out a laugh as Hashirama started sweating. You had good memories of that sweet girl. She was still extremely young at the time of yours and Tobirama’s passing, - far too young to probably have any recollection of you. However, you still appreciated the Senju brothers for treating you like family, and you’ve never forgotten the first moment you held Tsunade as Hashirama asked you to be her godmother. It was a title you took great pride in.

“Tsuna, huh?” Hashirama looked at you sheepishly as you chuckled. “She was my first grandchild, and she was Y/N’s goddaughter. So we both spoiled her rotten. She even picked up my gambling habit, hahahahaha!” You and Tobirama shook your head at the older Senju.

“Alright,” you called out, “enough for now. I have only two things to ask of you.” You took another step forward before pointing to the Uchiha in front of you. “Firstly, who is this boy?” You then dropped your hand back down before addressing everyone. “And secondly, why have you resurrected us?”

“I am Orochimaru, I am the one who resurrected all of you. This boy,” the pale one spoke as he referred to the Uchiha in front of you, “is Uchiha Sasuke. And he has a few questions for all of you.”

“Is that you, Sasuke?” Hiruzen took a step forward. So he’s from Hiruzen’s time, you figured it was during his second time as Hokage as he had quickly filled you in. He seemed extremely young, this Sasuke. You didn’t dwell on it too long when the boy started to ask you and the others questions about being a Shinobi, about being a part of a clan, a part of a village.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He’s seen a lot, and he’s been troubled by a lot. It’s obvious in not only the exhaustion in his eyes but also in the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan you see glowing, - this boy has suffered his whole life. You knew he wanted answers from not just the Hokages but also from you, because as he spoke he maintained clear eye contact with you the entire time. His gaze pleaded for reason, something to hear that would just make sense. For now though, you would let the past leaders of Konoha speak their pieces, - nobody can doubt their experience in these matters.

“Can we please hurry this up? The Fourth Shinobi War is going on and we do not have a lot of time. The sooner you answer Sasuke’s questions the sooner we can be on the move,” Orochimaru stepped up, making Tobirama lose his calm. As quick as always to anger…

“Why are we here answering meaningless questions when we are needed on the battlefield?!” He always needed Hashirama to keep him in check. And he still does, you mused as you watched him finally step away from the wall after a word from his older brother.

“Always conflict no matter what the era,” Hashirama sighed as you gave him an understanding smile. You gave a look back to the group.

“Which nations are fighting this war?” Everyone knew that you and Tobirama perished in the First Shinobi War, and while you were still reeling from the fact that three more happened after it, you also wanted to know the seriousness of it as well as its threat to the Land of Fire and Konohagakure.

“Actually, Lady Y/N…” Orochimaru seemed to hesitate, and he absolutely refused to look you in the eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him before moving them to the young Uchiha who held your gaze instead of cowering.

“Sasuke, tell me what is going on. Now,” you demanded. Sasuke let out a sigh before staring at you for a moment. He spoke calmly, but the news that he delivered was enough to make anyone cower in fear. Not you, though.

“Uchiha Madara,” Sasuke started, “has been revived by the Reanimation Jutsu, and he is currently trying to place the entire world under a Genjutsu of unimaginable magnitude.”

“Why?” Your question was a simple one. “Why is he trying to do this?”

“Uchiha Madara did not, in fact, die during his battle with Lord First.” Orochimaru spoke again. “Instead, he was seriously injured, and lived till the end of his days in hiding. He has had years to plan this battle.”

You looked at him in shock. All this time, he had been alive? Living in hiding? He was alone all this time. You looked down in sadness. We were supposed to grow old and grey together, and yet I die soon and he spends all his years by himself. All your time alive you were grieving what you thought to be the loss of your husband, lashing out and destroying, when instead you could have spent your time with him had you known.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was Hiruzen, a man who knew how your mind worked. “There was no way you could have known, my Lady.”

“He has waged a war against all five of the nations. They have come together to form the Shinobi Alliance and now try to fight together against Madara as we speak. He does all of this, for you, my Lady.” You looked at Orochimaru again before looking to Sasuke as if asking if it was true. Sasuke gave you a nod.

“Madara says that he wants to end all wars and all bloodshed. He calls his Genjutsu the Infinite Tsukuyomi, - to put the entire world in a permanent dream state. He is a man that grows angrier and more desperate. He misses you,” Orochimaru said. “And he’s willing to destroy the world for it.”

“His rage is from Y/N’s death in the First Shinobi War,” Hashirama figured out. “Since then, there have been two more that he has observed and so, this fourth one will be Madara’s supposed war to end all wars.”

“The Infinite Tsukuyomi is Madara’s plan to create a world of his own with only love and peace and happiness, as he explained it. He feels rage at the thought of a war being the reason that he lost his brother and then his wife. He believes he can create a better world this way, where everybody can have their own world within consisting of what makes them happiest.” Orochimaru’s explanation was brief and to the point. “His turning point was hearing of your death while he was in hiding, my Lady.”

You put a hand on each of the Senju brothers’ shoulders as you looked back at the boy you’ve come to know as Sasuke. “Alright, let’s tell him what he wants to know. I believe the sooner we explain, the sooner we can help in the frontlines,” you urged the Hokages to sit down beside you. “And the sooner I can see my husband,” you finished off with a smile, making everyone give you an exhausted look. You and Madara were always a love-sick couple, known by those who lived in your time and those who read about you in scrolls and records.

“Alright, we understand what it is you ask us of, young one.” Hashirama always made people feel open to speak their mind. “You want to know about what it means to be a Shinobi? A part of a clan? A part of a village? We’ll tell you.”

You listened quietly as Hiruzen and the two Senjus explained the village’s history to Sasuke, and you watched the changes in Sasuke’s expressions. It also gave you a chance to listen to what has happened since your own passing as well. The stories you heard made you sad. Uchiha Itachi, the man who sacrificed his family and his life for Konohagakure. For Konohagakure and for his little brother. An admirable Shinobi, you agreed. As was the Fourth Hokage and his own wife, giving their lives for the village.

It hurt to know that the boy you saw in front of you was the last of your clan, - an entire bloodline just wiped out. But you respected Itachi for doing the work nobody else was willing to do. He took the fall for the Elders of the village that were too cowardly to even admit to their own actions and decisions. In a way, Itachi reminded you of Madara, willing to sacrifice for his younger brother. Always protecting him, making sure he was safe within the village, helping him grow stronger, trying to lead him on the right path.

You continued to simply listen as Hashirama and Tobirama told Sasuke of the history between the Uchiha and the Senju. He spoke of your husband with the same fondness in his heart that he held for him all those years ago. But when the Hokages were finished, Sasuke sat in silence. He then slowly stood, letting out a sigh before looking at you.

“And what of you, Lady Y/N? You are the only one who has not yet spoken a word to me. I want to hear your opinion.” Sasuke spoke plainly.

“I have seen you listen intently to the opinions of honorable Hokages through the generations.” You spoke as you also started to stand, “What would you do with mine? I was a Kunoichi of Konoha, and I was a wife to a loving man,” you stated with pride making the two you now knew by the names of Karin and Suigetsu in the back of the room look at you with shock. “My experiences are limited to my life, not to the ones of others. I do not see what you would benefit from hearing my thoughts in this situation.”

“You are an Uchiha from legend, from stories that I would hear from my brother very often. You understand love, happiness, the feeling of contentment. You understand desperation, anger, grief, the loss of a loved one. You must have felt pain like mine when you heard of your husband’s death, especially when it came at the hands of Lord First. I want to know what made you stay. Like my brother, you’ve given for the village in blood, and yet you stayed loyal to the very same village until your dying breath. You are drastically stronger than me. You could beat me even without using either of your hands, which means you had the ability to bring the village down if you really wanted to, but you didn’t do it.” You looked at him with a gentle smile before walking up to him and placing a hand on his cheek. He simply stayed staring into your eyes, now black as his without the Sharingan.

“My husband is angry, - broken, hurt. He has lost much in his life. This village has brought me happiness. Hashirama and Tobirama are people I consider my closest friends, and Sarutobi was a brilliant student. All of these make up a village and a Shinobi. Love, bonds, sacrifice, dedication. My husband felt all of these up until he felt like he was cast away by them.” You gently spoke. “I felt the support of my bonds when I was at my lowest, grieving and in rage at Madara being gone.” You turned to look at your friends. “Hashirama and Tobirama may have fought against my husband, but they stood by me when I was alone. I have fought for this village and given it everything that I have. I am nothing without it. But even if I could go back, I would not change that. I found the love of my life in Konoha, and I was able to marry him and lead a happy life until his death. Or rather, what I thought to be his death. I also remember thinking about how I was protecting him with every mission I would take on, no matter how little. Madara has always watched over me, always kept me safe, and it made me happy that by keeping Konoha safe, I was keeping my beloved safe as well, whether or not he ever really needed my protection,” you finished off with a nostalgic laugh.

Sasuke stared at you for a few moments, before suddenly, for the first time since seeing him a couple of hours ago, you saw him give you a small smile. It was heartwarming to see, especially when he looked like the kind of person who rarely smiles. It showed you he understood your words. He could relate. He understood keeping someone’s legacy alive in your heart. He could see it. You knew he could.

“I won’t let what Itachi stood for go to waste. I won’t let Konoha waste away. We’re going to the battlefield.” Sasuke’s eyes shone with determination. A determined and motivated Uchiha is as dangerous to his opponent as he is unstoppable, you knew, and you were proud of this young boy who has learned to work through his conflicts. Your clan was known for burying their emotions deep down as an act of what they thought to be concealing their weaknesses. However in reality, they only make themselves weaker, instead. They forget that their Sharingans are a window into their heart. It reflects the soul and that is how it is not only awakened, but also grown into higher levels, - even the Eternal Mangekyou. They forget what their eyes represent once they awaken their full potential.

“Now we’re talking!” Hashirama was excited. And as you all jumped through the air, you heard him again. “It may sound odd, but I am excited to see my old friend!” Tobirama sighed at his older brothers words while you smiled back at him.

“I understand. It has been decades since I’ve seen my love. I miss him,” you said with a fond smile while the one you’ve come to know as Suigetsu looked at you like you were crazy.

“Forgive me, Lady Y/N, but you talk about him like you guys are love-sick puppies at the Ninja Academy!” Suigetsu let out a breath in absolute disbelief while Tobirama chuckled.

“Madara may be dangerous, and he may be frightening to most. However, seeing him interact with Y/N puts him in a rare perspective that not many have witnessed first hand. This is something even I cannot deny.” Suigetsu shook his head at the Second Hokage’s words and decided that he wouldn’t get it, ever.

Meanwhile, Naruto was letting Sakura heal him when he saw two people land right in front of him. He let out a gasp as he saw his father and a woman. He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was gorgeous, - black hair, black eyes, dressed like a true warrior, proudly wearing the Uchiha symbol- wait what?

He stared in shock as she shared a laugh with his father. “Not bad, Lord Fourth, but I think I beat you by just that little second!” And he couldn’t believe his eyes at his father poking fun back at her.

“Ah, I must be getting old, my Lady.” What?! ‘My Lady?!’ Naruto stayed looking back and forth at the two interacting until his father turned around to regard him. “Naruto! Hope we’re not too late!”

“Nevermind that, Dad! Who is this? Why is she wearing the Uchiha symbol? Is there another Uchiha person alive?! Again?! Why’re you being so formal with her!?!” Naruto’s mind was going faster than his mouth could keep up and it took Sakura giving him a solid knock on the head to make him stop.

“Geez, Naruto! That’s Uchiha Y/N,” she explained as she continued healing him. “She’s known as the Queen of the Uchiha clan, she’s from way before your dad was Hokage. She’s Uchiha Madara’s wife!” That made Naruto freak out again. Why was Sakura so calm about this? Wasn’t Madara’s wife a bad factor to add to this war? Madara was bad enough as it is, and he didn’t want to know what fighting the woman called the Queen of the Uchiha clan would also entail.

“This is why you pay attention during Iruka Sensei’s lectures,” Sakura sighed out before explaining yours and Madara’s past to Naruto as quickly as she could.

As Naruto listened to the end of Sakura’s explanation, he saw the Third Hokage land carefully on his feet. “You’re both as fast as ever, Minato, Lady Y/N.” He then saw who he knew to be the Senju brothers Hashirama and Tobirama also land.

“We never could beat you, Y/N!” Hashirama laughed out as he stood next to his younger brother. Naruto then froze as Y/N turned to regard him, giving him one of the kindest smiles he’s ever seen directed at him in his life, and he knew that that kind of genuineness cannot be faked. You were trustworthy.

“Don’t worry,” you spoke, “your friend is also on his way.” And Naruto closed his eyes. Sasuke. He must have something to do with your reanimation, he knew.

“Hey, um, big sister Y/N?” Naruto called out, making you look at him in shock, a familiar warmth curling into your chest. Nobody had called you that since Izuna, and it brought an involuntary smile to your lips. You gave a nod to encourage him to continue. “Not that I’m doubting you or anything, big sister, but uh, how exactly do you plan on stopping your extremely crazy and concerningly bloodthirsty husband?” You let out a loud laugh at his words while his father panicked at the way he was addressing Madara in front of you. This kid has no filter - doesn’t even know what a filter is - , and you absolutely loved it. He spoke to you as honestly as if you were really his big sister and it made you adore him. If this was Sasuke’s closest friend, then he has chosen well, they are both perfectly balanced halves, like Yin and Yang.

“You have a lovely son, Lord Fourth.” You told a worried Minato before turning back to the blond kid in front of you. “And Naruto, your father told me you wanted to become Hokage. I think- No, I know you will succeed. You have good friends,” you said as you looked around, “and you have a good heart. Not even the sky is your limit, Ninja of Konoha.”

You can tell this kid wears his heart on his sleeve, and so you could have anticipated the hug. What you couldn’t have anticipated was for him to run forward and squeeze whatever temporary life was flowing through you out of your lungs in his hug. Now this was one life-changing hug.

“What on earth did I miss?” You turned to see Sasuke staring at you in amazement. It seems you were a bit of a crowd favourite already, - all of his past comrades from Konoha were gathered around you, looking at you in awe or wonder, sometimes both. He assumes someone, most probably Sakura, must have explained your past and your goals. The initial reaction to hearing your lengthy title and name is always fear, until they have a conversation with you.

“Sasuke!” Sakura shouting out his name had you a little surprised, but as you watched their exchange you could see that the Kunoichi was enamored with him. You left Sasuke and Naruto to their conversation with their friends while you walked over to your own, quickly gauging the battlefield and all of the warriors, - it was an absolute mess. A man by the name of Hatake Kakashi was quick to bring you and the Hokages up to speed on everything that’s happened, including the involvement of another Uchiha by the name of Obito, Lord Fourth’s student.

“As far as I know, however, Obito’s actions are influenced by Madara,” Kakashi explained as he recalled to you and the others what Obito had told him of his survival in a past accident.

“I’m going to go towards the back, I want a larger view of this mess. Just give me a few moments,” you said as you jumped away. Hashirama gave you a quick thumbs up to acknowledge your words as they continued to listen to Kakashi’s information, - the Senju brothers have seen you do this often.

You could see well from your initial spot, but the terrain was uneven and you always worked better once you got a full view of your surroundings with your Sharingan. It gave you better mobility and helped you avoid any hesitation during combat. If you always knew where to step and what direction to move in, you didn’t even have to take your eyes off of the enemy.

This was actually a tactic that you also showed your husband during one of your sparring sessions together. You both would always choose new locations and alternate in memorizing the location. If it was Madara’s turn, you wouldn’t memorize that day’s terrain choice, and vice versa. This helped you both see the difference in combat efficiency. Perhaps that has been far too effective against the Shinobi Alliance, you thought sheepishly as you recalled Kakashi’s words of always seeing Madara have the higher ground in confrontations, looking down on everyone.

As you were letting your eyes memorize the terrain, your heart stopped at a yell you heard. It’s been decades since you’ve heard that voice. And to hear it again in person instead of in your dreams was a breathtaking feeling that you simply could not define, even if it wasn’t directed at you, specifically.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hashirama!” He called out, and you heard the excitement in his voice. It brought a smile to your face, - those two were always inseparable, it’s nice to see even that cannot change.

Meanwhile, Hashirama looked up to see Madara staring down at him with anticipation. He let out a sigh, is this the time she chooses to disappear? Tobirama, as if reading his brother’s mind, also sighed out. Your timing is impeccable, Y/N.

Where is that woman when you need her? The Senju brothers were really trying to avoid a full out battle with Madara at this point when it was so unnecessary.

Hashirama pointed his finger at Madara as he called out, “I’ll deal with you later!” And the older Senju brother watched as Madara visibly deflated a little in disappointment before patiently sitting down, shaking his head as he did. Some things never change. Hashirama then turned around, pointing his finger at the Ten-Tailed Beast, “First, I have to stop the Ten-Tails, because it’s charging right at us!”

“Where the hell did big sister go?!” Naruto was absolutely stressed knowing the one person who could help stop this now was not here for some godforsaken reason. “She’s the only person who’s going to have any actual effect on Uchiha Madara and she’s just gone?!”

“Stay calm, Naruto,” Minato spoke calmly, “we just have to keep the Ten-Tails occupied. Once she returns we’ll have the extra power and also the weapon to reason with Madara.” He then turned and gave a smile to his son and his son’s friends. “Don’t worry. If she is anything like what I’ve read about her, then Uchiha Madara will listen. So far, she has more than proven herself, and I have faith that she can help. I have also heard from the First and Second Hokages that she is the only human whose opinion and emotions Madara genuinely values.”

“Now, everyone!” Tobirama spoke, “Just hold off until she returns! Keep the Ten-Tails at bay, and do not risk yourself in attempting to counter any of its moves. We simply hold it off for as long as needed!”

Sasuke and Naruto were already off atop their summonings as Sakura stayed behind with her own summoning to heal those that were injured in the area. The rest of their comrades also dispersed to help contain the situation while Madara simply sat atop the cliff, observing their movements. He didn’t bother listening to whatever they discussed, dismissing it as futile attempts to strategize. Naturally, it would fail against me, Madara scoffed out a quiet laugh.

Hashirama thought this would be a good time for him and his fellow Hokages to go and have some semblance of a civil conversation with his old friend while they kept the situation at bay. “Madara!” He called out as him and his comrades landed on the cliff top behind the seated Uchiha.

“Oh? Ready to face me now, Hashirama?” Madara could feel his blood pumping. He’s been dying for a rematch with the Senju man.

“Actually, I wanted to talk. My friend, there is nothing to gain from this.” Hashirama hoped he’d see reason.

“There is everything to gain from this.” Madara countered his friend easily. “In the Infinite Tsukuyomi, there will be happiness. There will be peace. Everyone can love and be loved. How is this reality better than what I am offering?” Madara’s mind was clear.

“It would all still be a fake reality, Madara. None of your experiences would be real. The peace wouldn’t be real. The love wouldn’t be genuine. The happiness? It would be fake!” Hashirama wanted to get through somehow.

Madara was getting frustrated. “At least there would be happiness! At least there would be something worth living for within the Tsukuyomi.”

“There are reasons worth living for in the real world. You fight for them, and you hold on to it. That’s what makes it worth the suffering. There is happiness and love awaiting everyone in this world, Madara, and I thought you would understand that better than anyone else! Everyone that has walked this earth was given something worth living for, and it kept them going till the end of their days. Everyone deserves to experience the real world as it is with all of its ups and downs. That’s what makes it genuine. That’s what gives life value.” Hashirama hoped his friend would understand.

“I had a reason. I had love, happiness. I had it…” Madara looked down for a moment before looking back up again, eyes full of red-hot rage. “And she was taken from me!” He began shouting. “You took her from me! All of you!” He pointed at them, “You took my one happiness and my one love! First, I was separated from her and then you made sure she wasn’t even in the same plane of existence as me! She died fighting for these real experiences of yours. Anything in this world, including these values you preach about, Hashirama, are absolutely worthless without her. She was my only reason. The only one!” The Uchiha took a deep breath, “I refuse to live in any world or any reality without my wife, never again. And any world that has hurt my wife should simply not exist.” He activated his Susano’o, getting ready to fight, - he wouldn’t hear another word of this. He would not listen to another word defending this monstrosity of a world that took his beloved wife from him. His soulmate.

“Are you happy, elder brother?” Tobirama took a few steps back, “Now you’ve made him angry. The whole point of this was to stall him!”

“I know, Tobirama!” Hashirama let out a quiet curse as he prepared his hands for a countering Jutsu.

“Clearly you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be very stalled from your tactics, elder brother!” Tobirama couldn’t stop the sarcasm that came flying out of his mouth in his current stress.

“Tobirama, now is absolutely not the time for this!” Hashirama backed away some more as Madara’s Susano’o pulled its sword out of the sheath and got into an offensive stance.

They didn’t think a conversation about love and happiness could go so bad so quickly. But then again, they should have anticipated it considering who it was they were having this conversation with.

Nobody loves as intensely as an Uchiha, Hashirama remembered saying to Sasuke. And no Uchiha has loved or will love as intensely as Uchiha Madara loves his wife. He’ll burn the world and bring her the ashes.

The Hokages braced themselves as Madara’s Susano’o charged forward, sword raised and about to come down for the strike, when suddenly, their surroundings went deathly quiet.

The Hokages breathed out a sigh of quick relief. Tobirama huffed, “By the Gods, Y/N! You couldn’t have cut it any closer if you tried!”

You don’t spare a glance back at the Hokages, though, simply keeping your eyes in front of you. You couldn’t help the smile building on your lips as you saw your husband. He was just as handsome as the last day you saw him, - with his Sharingan and his long hair and his eyes full of love for you. He always managed to make you feel loved. He was doing all of this, for you. Of course, it was questionable, but he was doing it for you. “My love,” you started, hearing yourself choking up. You couldn’t finish your sentence as you saw the shock finally leave your husband.

Madara couldn’t believe his eyes. His wife was here, in front of him, reanimated. He never thought he would see her again, and if he was ever reunited with her in the afterlife, it’s not like they would have any recollection of that in the present living moment, either. And so to see her now, he could do nothing but thank every entity he could think of that she created this Jutsu, regardless of the circumstances in which she did. He was not by her side in her dying breath and she wasn’t there with him as he grew old and frail, - the biggest regrets that Madara can think of from his time alive. “Y/N.” He released his Susano’o, taking long strides towards his wife.

You simply stood in place, still taking him in. You watched his large frame as he walked towards you, and you felt your breath leave you at the intensity with which he grabbed you. He held you close, a hand around your shoulders and another over the back of your head, as if trying to make sure you couldn’t go anywhere. You reached and wrapped arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest and letting a sob finally wrack through your body, finally feeling safe and like you belonged. You finally felt like you could let go and the one person your trusted would be there to catch you, - the only person you’ve ever trusted with your soul, and the only person you will ever trust.

“Y/N,” you closed your eyes as you heard your name fall from his lips, “my Y/N.” His words felt like velvet on your skin and like a melody through your ears.

“Madara,” you breathed out, making the Uchiha man let out a hum. He had been aching to hear your voice for decades. It had been so long since he’d heard you call out his name and to hear it again made him want to break down right there. “You left me,” he heard you whisper. You sounded so upset, and he felt his heart ache and fall apart all over again. Such simple words, but so strong in their meaning. “You left me alone.”

“My darling wife,” he gripped you tighter. “I am so, so sorry. I have no excuse for my actions. I was blind and a fool to have ever thought to leave you, because that is all one must be to ever think to let go of you,” he stated honestly. These were words from his core, ones he has never spoken aloud until now but has always had running in his head. He meant every bit of it. “I was… blinded. Blinded by the hate I felt, the need to avenge Izuna… All of it came to head at some point that I struggle to even remember now. And when I heard of your death, I lost all reason. All I could think of was the ways in which I could’ve kept you safe. I thought the only way to do so now would be to create a new world. A world in which we could be together again, a world in which you couldn’t get hurt. And you would never be hurt because this world would be ours to command as we so wished.” You sighed out gently before pulling away to cup his face in your hands. You gave your husband a smile, leaning to kiss his lips for a moment before resting your forehead against his.

“You never let your soul rest, even in death.” You sighed and you pressed your lips to his cheek. “My husband, my love.” You heard him hum gently. “All I ever needed was you. I don’t need the world because that is what you are to me. You are my world- No, my universe.”

Madara pulled away to look into your eyes, and you saw a vulnerable man right then, - the same one that had always bore his emotions freely to you and only you. He always let you see into his heart. And now, you saw a man who had mourned for his wife for decades. “You never did find peace, even in death. And it was my fault. If it weren’t for that, we could’ve been together all this time. I’m so sorry,” you said softly as you planted another kiss on his lips, “I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain,” you continued apologizing as Madara shook his head at you, a tear of his own falling.

“No,” he stopped you, grabbing your head with both hands to place a kiss on your forehead. “Never tell me it is your fault. I will not accept it. I chose this path, Y/N. I chose to stay in this world. I was blinded by rage and did not see what could have been - you and me, finally together, in eternity. Without restraints.” He held you close again, wrapping his arms around you as he tight as he could, and you did the same.

Naruto watched from a little further away, jaw on the floor, - not too different from the rest of the Shinobi that were present. He turned to Sasuke who was also unable to look away from the scene that seemed to come straight from a fever dream.

“Oi, Sasuke,” he nudged his friend, “Is this all we needed to do? We assembled the entire Shinobi world, formed an alliance, and suffered an unimaginable amount of casualties. All we needed to do,” he paused again, “this whole time, was get her?!” Sasuke’s eyes flashed at his extremely oblivious and extremely loud friend at both the noise level of his sentence and his way of addressing the Queen of the Uchiha clan. He tried to get him to stop when he saw Madara’s head whip around to regard the person who had addressed his wife so brazenly. Too late, Sasuke clenched his jaw.

It took Sasuke every bit of Chakra, - and the full extent of his Sharingan’s abilities, - to move as fast as he did in that moment, stepping in front of Naruto and summoning an arm of his Susano’o to block Madara’s fast approach towards the Uzumaki boy. Naruto let out a small scream as he stumbled back a bit, watching with fear in his eyes as Madara’s raging Sharingan stared into his very soul.

“Idiot,” Sasuke quietly bit out, “is there a single day where you paid attention at the Academy?”

“H-huh?” Naruto turned his head towards Sasuke but his eyes stayed watching the past head of the Uchiha clan that hasn’t backed down just yet. Or gotten far enough away for me to feel comfortable, Naruto thought to himself as he watched warily.

“You will address her, with the amount of respect that she deserves,” Madara ground out. “That woman is Uchiha Y/N. She is Queen of the Uchiha Clan, the Strongest Kunoichi in the Land of Fire, and my wife.”

“He did not know,” Sasuke ground out. The young Uchiha was at his wit’s end. Uchiha Madara was strict when it came to people respecting the Queen of the Uchiha clan. He demanded respect of everyone whether they were directly or indirectly addressing or mentioning her. It irked him that even Tobirama was as casual as he was with her. As far as Madara was concerned, the only person who could address Uchiha Y/N lovingly and without titles was him. “Everyone else would slander her name for they do not understand her worth,” Madara had once said. “They do not see the diamond that she is and I will make sure that they at least recognize that she is a treasure.”

“Madara,” you chastised as you walked towards him. “He’s a sweet boy, he means no harm. He doesn’t need to call me by my title because of who I once was. There are only two titles that have come with me past my life - Kunoichi of Konohagakure, and wife to an honorable man. That is all. Just a Kunoichi, and just a wife.” You spoke as wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your head on his chest. You felt your husband wrap his arms around you again and felt as he began to slowly relax. “There will be those stronger than me.”

“Not in my heart. I know you are the strongest there will ever be.” You let out a little laugh as you heard the stubbornness in your husband’s voice.

“I adore you,” you spoke to him with a smile, “But I am not too upset by what future awaits our clan.” You placed a hand on his cheek before turning to look at Sasuke. “He is a strong boy, with an honorable heart. Named after Hiruzen’s father. And while I believe you to always be the head of the clan in my heart,” you heard your husband let out a light laugh, “Sasuke will be a good leader.” The young boy gently bowed his head at you. “And I believe it will not be long before there are new heirs to the Uchiha clan, and the bloodline is restored,” you spoke with a grin.

Sasuke’s eyes slightly widened at you, before he quickly turned his head away and to the side. “Hn.” The noise he made caused you to let out a small laugh. A typical response from an Uchiha in a moment of speechlessness. And no matter how hard he tried, Sasuke would never be able to hide the pink in his cheeks from you.

“The clan is in capable hands,” you spoke as you turned and found Tsunade standing next to her grandfather and great uncle, “and so is the village, it seems.” Tsunade smiled at you, and you saw vague recognition in her eyes.

“I don’t remember you well, but I grew up hearing stories of you and how you were always by my side while you were alive. I’m proud to have such an amazing Kunoichi as my godmother.” You smiled at her and laid your head on your husband’s chest, feeling him bring a hand up to hold the back of your neck.

“Indeed, I must admit that the village is in respectable hands. She is… a strong woman.” Tsunade seemed shocked to hear words of praise coming from Madara’s mouth, but she was happy to hear it, regardless. She has certainly inherited Hashirama’s Will of Fire, Madara has only seen it so strong in his wife’s eyes until now. And she probably did inherit it from her godmother, Madara’s pride would not allow him to give Hashirama credit for something over his beloved.

You turned back to your husband, taking in a deep breath. “Well, my love? Shall we?” You saw Madara let out a long sigh before tightening his arms around you.

“Perhaps we are done here. I trust you lot can handle Obito?” Hatake Kakashi and his team nodded at Madara’s question. “Good,” your husband hummed. “I think I have some catching up to do with my wife. So much time lost… ” He ran a hand across your cheek.

You smiled, “Luckily, we have eternity to make it up.” You reached up and he met you halfway as he bent his neck, both of you joining your lips together in a kiss. The Senju brothers looked over at Orochimaru and gave him a nod to go ahead with releasing the Reanimation, and he did so quietly.

You could vaguely hear Naruto saying goodbye to his father. You could also make out the voices of the other Hokages talking to their own loved ones, giving them parting words of advice, confidence, pride, and love, - all of which you let fade into the background, focusing solely on your husband in front of you. You had him now, and you absolutely will not let go. You pressed your lips harder against his and felt as he let out a small moan, gripping you tighter to him. You would make sure that this next time you woke again in the after-life, he would be right beside you. You both can finally move on, together and in peace, having nothing to concern yourself with except each other. No war, no conflict, no clans, no rivalry, just a husband and wife finally being able to reach paradise together.

“Together, this time,” you spoke against his lips, feeling your body starting to fade.

“Together,” Madara whispered back to you.

And when you both opened your eyes again in the afterlife, you were still holding on to each other. Nothing would separate you two anymore, you wouldn’t let the forces of the universe get between the two of you anymore. Never again…

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Hello and welcome to my blog, everyone! I’m so excited to finally get this first post out. I can’t wait to get more stories out, and I hope you guys enjoy this and any more that’ll come in the future! Thank you guys for reading all of it!

Any similarities to any other posts are purely coincidental and not intentional. Thank you all so very much~

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