#I’m still finishing up the voice lines thing
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hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk
bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)
tyy :))
hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)
ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!
The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.
School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.
And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.
“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.
“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.
“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”
“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”
“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.
“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”
“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”
David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”
“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”
That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”
Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.
“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”
For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.
David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–
“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”
David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.
“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”
“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”
That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.
“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.
“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.
His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.
“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”
His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”
Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…
In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.
Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.
“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”
Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.
“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.
“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”
David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”
This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.
“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”
“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”
Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.
“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”
David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.
“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.
“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”
#anyway!! hope u enjoy !!#newsies#davey jacobs#david jacobs#newsies fanfic#jack kelly#fizz writes#fizz answers#javey#javid#newsies fic#newsies the musical#rizz does bthb!#i like that it kept my indentations…. tab key my beloved#jk i hopped on desktop and theyre gone
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Thinking about Kaeya having such fine control over Cryo that the ice cubes in his drink don’t melt unless he’s distracted. You don’t notice, of course, because the ice in his drinks always melts as normal when you’re around.
#kaeya x reader#been thinking about him a lot#so basically it’s been business as usual for me#I’m still finishing up the voice lines thing#but I’m tempted to write something for him before I finish it
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OK. OKAY. YOU GUYS.
I am LOVING the fucking chocolate guy’s netflix show! It’s FANTASTIC! Anf hold on to your fucking boots y’all cause it’s actually not what I was expecting at all!
Do you miss the gentleness of the Great British Bake-Off? THIS SHOW IS SO KIND AND GENTLE! For fuck’s sake, NO ONE GETS KICKED OFF! No. No, Listen to this! When they lose the first challenge (a pastry one), the punishment is... They get private lessons with Amaury to help improve what brought their scores down instead of competing in the second chocolate challenge.
When the one black lady contestant messed up the first challenge I was super bummed and like, OF COURSE. But NO. She got lessons! She struggled! she worked hard! and she won a later challenge! GROWTH MY DUDES! They are there TO LEARN and GROW and Maybe Win a Big Prize!
They ALL get to stay and keep doing their best! and at the end the one who did the best overall is the one who gets the money prize!
Look at this lovely line up! they make COOL LOOKING FANCY THINGS! Amaury tells us how he does some of the fancy things he does! They OFFER TO HELP EACH OTHER WHEN THEY FINISH EARLY AND GET PROPS FOR THAT! (not taunted for not using their own time better). The set up even kinda makes the one who is like, I’m in it to win it, is the villain and doing bad. The rest who are like, I’m here to learn and grow and maybe make friends! AUGH YOU GUYS!
Amaury is soft spoken and kind, and has a pretty voice and a pretty smile and that’s nice to watch too. The chefs are talented and artistic and they actually give the THE TIME to make nice things! It’s not “Wham out some half-assed garbage in 2 hours so we can shotgun the production and laugh at your garbage” like most cooking shows nowadays. NO! 14 hour challenges! They’re still hard, but they get to actually make cool stuff! fancy stuff! Stuff I want to look at and cheer for them!
The episodes average 38 min and aren’t a huge time commitment, the first episode being the longest one, and there are only 8 total so it’s not like you have to really get in for the long haul. \
WATCH IT! Pump it! we need more cooking shows like this and less that are sad and mean!
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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ It's Like That *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
You decide to accept Itadori's invitation to the movies. It turns out better than expected.
Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader
CW: Fluff, SFW, hand holding, potential friends to lovers, it's technically a date 💕
“Do you guys want to see Human Earthworm 4 with me?”
The three of you minus Itadori, who posed the question, share a lukewarm look. You’re on the edge of the shopping district, trying to decide what to do after your mission, if anything, and that’s the first idea that floats out amongst the group.
“What’s it about?” Nobara asks.
After Itadori explains the horror romance, there’s even less enthusiasm amongst the group to watch the movie with him. Sensing this, he ups the bargain.
“I’ll pay.”
You wince when you see Fushiguro pull out his phone. “I don’t really have the energy to sit through a movie,” he excuses himself, fingers going a mile a minute to escape the situation of friendship for today. “I’m going home.”
Your broody classmate holds his ringing phone to his ear and briefly glances at Nobara.
“I’m going to hit up the shops," she responds to his silent question.
Megumi leaves the three of you behind in no time flat. Nobara only stays behind long enough to ask if you want to go shopping with her. While you normally love to go with her and are in dire need of new shoes, you notice a lonely sullen shadow building over your slit-cheeked classmate and throw up an apologetic smile to her.
“I think I’ll go with Itadori-kun today.”
You miss the way his head perks up as you wave her off. Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, Itadori is already on top of you, his fists drawn in front of him excitedly and chestnut irises filled with happy stars.
“You’re going to love it,” he tells you. It’s cute how he nearly shakes with excitement, you can even hear it growing in his voice and shining in his eyes. “It’s such a good series! I mean, I know it sounded weird, but it’s so much better on screen that— forget any of what I said, you gotta see for yourself!”
He wastes no time taking off in the direction of the theatre, and you jog to keep up with the speed of the Tiger of the West. It isn’t until he notices you lagging behind that he slows up to grab your hand and pull you with him.
“Come on, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening.”
“Is this one of those movies where I need to see the first three to know what’s going on?”
“Well, there’s a few returning characters, like Dr. Richter, but I can fill you in on the important stuff so don’t worry.”
When you get to the theatre, Itadori immediately jumps in the ticket line, huffing in relief when there are still seats available. You begin to pull out your wallet but pause when he hands you a pink paper ticket.
“I told you it’s on me,” he reminds you before going down the line and ordering a large popcorn, two drinks, and beating you to grab a packet of candy that you were staring at for two seconds too long.
He hands the bag of sweets to the cashier to scan. “And this please,” he asks before handing the candy to you.
“That’s okay,” you tell him, but he laughs it off.
“It’s fine. That’s your favorite, right?”
You shyly nod and hold onto the envelope of overpriced candy like it’s the most precious thing in the world causing the cashier to smile at you as she finishes preparing your items.
“Aren’t you two the cutest,” she comments.
You squeak quietly at her comment, crumpling your candy in surprise. It’s not a big deal she mistook you as a couple, it’s not like Itadori was someone you didn’t like after all, and it’s not like there was any need to correct her but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about the situation.
Curiously, you look at him, waiting for him to make the decision on the matter. Surprisingly, he blurts out a quick and happy, “Thanks!” before moving on to fill his drink.
As you watch him, you fight the urge to ask why he didn’t correct her; and when you notice that he’s way more interested in finding the right theater, you decide he must have said it because it wasn't worth a fuss.
The two of you get seats at the back of the theater, and you shift over people carefully to avoid falling into Itadori’s back as you find your seats. You can finally relax as he sets the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between you.
Soon enough, the movie begins to play.
It starts off like every normal horror movie. A mad scientist, a hapless victim, and an escape followed by a romantic subplot of the human earthworm discovering that the woman he met indeed loves him even if he is a worm.
That’s about as much as you can keep up with. There are too many easter eggs that keep flying over your head and too many callbacks to the previous movies in the series. Itadori does his best to try to help you whenever you whisper questions at him; but eventually, you’re too distracted by the couple in front of you making out to pay attention to the movie.
It’s so obnoxiously grotesque, their arms wrapping around each other and a soft moan every so often that’s drowned out by the guttural sounds of the earthworm children. You can’t really believe they’d do that in public, and why did they have to be so close to you out of all people?
Itadori looks at you and then finally catches on to what’s making you squirm. When he does, a faint hint of red starts to coat across his nose, and he becomes equally uncomfortable.
Deciding to make it a little better for the both of you, you nudge him then make a silly disgusted face with your tongue stuck out to mimic a gag. You’re rewarded with a snicker from him and his own silly face in turn, and it makes the awkwardness of it a little easier to take as you try to focus back on the movie.
It’s another half hour in before you wonder exactly how the hell are they still going at it.
“Society really needs to bring shame back,” you think before a warm breath hits your ear and fans down your jaw.
You nearly jump before the smooth sounds of Itadori’s voice greet you.
“So, that guy—” he begins but you’re way too focused on how close he leaned into you this time, how low the timbre of his voice goes to keep from disturbing those around you. It makes your feet curl in your shoes and your breath catch in your chest when his shoulder connects with your arm.
You feel heightened to his presence and the heat of him so close. It wasn’t like this earlier, but your heart is racing and your skin tickles the more he whispers. You think he’s so close that he could almost kiss your earlobe.
It’s a path that you didn’t know you had in your mind, and it leaves you rattled as the smallest brush of pink hair hits your skin as he straightens back up and reaches for another handful of popcorn.
Every time he touches your arm after to get your attention or your hand scoops by his in the popcorn bucket, you start to become flustered and jittery like a child after too much sugar.
It lasts until the movie reaches its apex.
There’s a combined scream that fills the theatre, and you tense at the splatter of blood hitting the camera, leaving the few remains of your popcorn scattered across the floor as you unwittingly knock it over and squeeze Itadori’s hand tight.
Your fingers slot with his and your fingertips bury against his palm, and it’s the only thing keeping you from bursting into a scream.
When the lights flash back on, you notice how pink his hand looks under your tense hold and mumble out an apology.
“Oh, that?” he asks followed by the same charming laugh as always. “It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen your face, like a blowfish,” he comments, teasingly mocking your blow-eyed expression as everyone around you begins to exit. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat.”
“You’re one to talk. You screamed in my ear at least a dozen times,” you remind him as the two of you also make your way towards the exit doors. “Sounded like you were on fire.”
“Don’t say fire in a theatre!” he scolds with a hiss.
“You said it louder.”
“To remind you not to say it!”
You giggle at how offended he sounds as you break out into the light of the late afternoon. You walk with Itadori back to your pickup spot on the edge of the shopping district. It’s surprisingly quiet especially considering who you’re with, and it makes you worry a bit.
You thought Itadori would be more excited after watching the film and practically forcing you to run 500m dash to get there, but he’s barely said two words about it since leaving the theatre, briefly mentioning how he’s still glad they used a real costume for the main earthworm instead of CGI.
But since leaving, his mood seems to have dampened. You thought about bringing something up from the movie, but you couldn’t really catch more than a few bloody scenes and a little evil monologuing from Dr. Richter outside the moments when Itadori would have your attention, with his voice in your ear or his hand excitedly clasping around your wrist each time he enthusiastically info-dumped a scene to you.
“Hey, um,” he begins piquing your interest. He seems to lose his nerve when you catch his eye; his gaze flutters to his feet before nervously picking back up to glimpse at your face but only for a few seconds. “Thanks for coming with me.”
You smile. “Don’t mention it. It was…different.”
“Yeah,” he agrees but he still seems down.
“Itadori-kun? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah…It’s just…I could tell you didn’t really like the movie. I mean I knew from the start it wasn’t really your thing. You and Nobara usually like to shop together more than watch horror movies. But still—” he breathes in deep, a shy color blossoming across his face. “It’s been a while since it felt like I did something normal, so it was really nice having someone to come with me. I appreciate it.”
There's something about his explanation that makes your heart hurt. He hasn’t been a sorcerer that long yet; and coming from being a normal kid to the world you were born into was probably scarier than you all could understand.
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it! I just couldn’t really follow the story between that annoying couple smacking the whole time, and I felt like I barely follow anything at all!” you reason with him, but he still has that kicked puppy look on his face.
You sigh with soft empathy before offering him a reassuring smile.
“Hey, Itadori-kun, you know I think I’d like to come back and see it again with you. After we watch the first three movies of course."
He gives you a curious look, his eyebrows raised with disbelief.
“Really?”
You give a cute and short nod. “Mhm! I can’t really give it a fair chance if I haven’t seen the ones leading up to it. Besides, I want to know why Dr. Richter was trying to kidnap the baby H.E.s in the first place? Couldn’t he make more Enhanced H.E.s from the DNA left from the original experiment victim like he did at the beginning of the movie?”
It’s like you open the skies back over him when your words sink in, and he moves so happily, speaks so fully, and it makes you happy to see him simply be happy.
“They explain it so good in the third movie,” he says, unable to hold in his excitement. “I know a great site, it has subtitles and everything, and a special director’s cut at the end of the second movie.”
You laugh. “Sounds good!”
“We should pick up some more snacks; the original is actually pretty long,” he warns and starts to lead you towards the convenience store. Your smile only breaks when you feel the tug on your arm and look down to notice his hand still fastened around yours.
You freeze, feeling your face warm a bit when you realize he’s probably been holding it since before you left the theater. This makes him pause and turn towards you.
Softly, he calls your name and asks if you’re okay, making you drop your head bashfully.
“Oh, it’s nothing really but you’re still holding my hand,” you point out.
Itadori looks down between the two of you and confirms that his fingers are still locked with yours, a comfortable fit.
“Huh, oh, I guess I am,” he states matter-of-factly before he blushes. “Oh, it’s probably all gross and oily right? Yuck.”
You shake your head. “No, it’s not actually,” you correct, making no move to force him to let go because you honestly don’t want him to stop this good feeling pouring from him into you through the simple act.
Your soft expression makes his cheeks warm for a different reason this time.
“Oh, well, w-we should probably hurry,” he stammers out, and your hand tightens around his hand just a little bit more as you agree and find the closest convenience store to prepare for your first movie night.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
Nobara stops outside the convenience store, hand to the glass as she stalks back and forth, trying to catch glimpses down the aisle.
She could have sworn she just saw the two of you walk in from the other side of the street, and she was going to come to say hi – partially to ask how the movie went and partially to make Itadori carry her shopping bags if the two of you were done – that was before she noticed how close the two of you looked.
Weirdly close.
When she finally catches you in the foggy glass, hand in hand, looking at the mini gacha inside the store, she gasps and quickly shuffles her bags around in search of her phone.
Kugisaki quickly scrolls through her contacts, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the line to pick up.
“Fushiguro get here quick,” she harshly whispers into the device.
There’s a lazy voice on the other end asking what she wants, and she vaguely explains the situation to be met with resistance.
“Well then have Ijichi drop you off again! What do you mean ‘No’?" she growls. "Shut up and listen to me. They just went into 7/11. Ugh. Fine, fine, I’m sending you some pictures,” she argues.
Kugisaki quickly starts to snap some pictures through the glass and frantically sends them off before bringing the phone back to her ear.
“That’s what I’m saying so hurry up and get here! Yes, it’s like that!”
#itadori x reader#yuji x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#yuuji x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuji fluff#itadori fluff#gender neutral reader#tbh i love horror movies and wouldve honestly went with him#yuuji itadori x reader#itadori yuuji
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the one with the role play — gojo satoru
— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have
suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k
“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)
“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.
“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”
“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.
“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”
now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.
“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”
“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.
“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.
“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.
“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”
“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.
standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”
“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).
“any ideas?”, you asked.
“8pm, the bar around the corner”
“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”
“nope, let’s improvise”
[8:13pm, at the bar]
sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.
he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.
“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”
he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.
“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”
a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.
“sure”
you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.
“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”
you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”
his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.
“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.
it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”
“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”
“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.
“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).
“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”
“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”
great, this was getting worse now.
“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.
“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.
“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.
“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.
you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”
he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…
extra:
[later that night, in bed]
done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.
“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.
“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.
“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”
“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”
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If possible, when you are feeling better and up to it, writing some aquatic monster smut (mermaid-like or octopus-like)??
Ps love your writing I look forward to seeing more 💙
Thank you for your kind words! It means a lot. I chose sea-monster as an octopus-like creature, hope that's okay. I was thinking some kind of half-octopus, half-human. Something like Ursula from The Little Mermaid but like… male and hot? I hope you like this, and I’m very sorry for how long it took me to get to it. 🥰
A good girl at the seaside
Sea-monster x fem!reader || tentacles, praise kink, forced orgasm, overstimulation
You were floating on the beach, still not believing your luck. A weird lady at the inn recommended you the most precious little beach and there was nobody around, it was completely deserted. You spent some time at the shore, basking under the sun with your bikini on, before you said fuck it, and chose to take off your bikini completely. The sun felt marvelous against your naked skin, and not having any tan lines was also a pro. You didn't want to get caught, but deep down you felt a spark of heat at the thought of someone observing your naked form. Someplace inside of you, there was an exhibitionist wanting to come out.
Floating in the water felt like a warm caress against your overheated skin, the sea salt making your body tickle, and your nakedness making you feel naughty. After a while, you felt your fingers pruning. You got back to the sand, laying down flat on your towel, the sun tickling your back and warming your skin. It was wonderful.
"What do we have here? A pretty human gift?" A raspy voice said from behind you. You screamed and tried to turn around.
"What the-?" You didn't finish that thought. A slimy something pressed at your lower back, pushing your body down and stopping you from turning to see who it was. Was that a tentacle? It felt like it. What the fuck. "Let me go!" You tried to scratch the tentacle, push it away from you, but more joined the first one, ascending the back of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Some grabbed your arms and pinned them down. Another pair grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs apart. You were completely exposed and trapped under some talkative tentacle monster.
"What a pretty pussy... We are going to have fun, aren't we?" The creature behind you said, a tentacle following a path to your center. You shivered involuntarily.
"What? No!" You tried to break free and turn around, but it was fruitless. The tentacles holding you down were way too heavy, had too much force for you to move.
"Hmm?" He made a sound of utter confusion. "You don't want to? But the lady said she sent me a present. And you are in my beach…"
"What are you talking about?! I don't even know who you are! What you are!" You screamed over your shoulder, still pinned to the ground, your breathing irregular with exertion of trying to get free. You tried really hard to bury the shiver of anticipation under your skin, the wetness pooling at your pussy… The slimy feeling of his tentacles against your heated skin felt wonderful, but you knew you didn’t want it. Right?
"Oh, my bad." His voice sounded completely dejected, like you offended him with your rejection. He sounded sad, and you hated that it made your heart ache for him. He was trying to tentacle-fuck you without even asking first, you shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him… But yet, you felt it. The tentacles holding you down disappeared, and you turned around completely.
He was some kind of sea creature, his upper half looked humanoid, his features flat, but handsome in a weird way. His skin looked wet and shiny, super smooth, like a fish. But his lower body wasn't human, it was a mess of tentacles that looked octopus-like, suckers included. You felt more heat rising inside your body, pooling in your lower abdomen and making your body flush. You wanted to blame the scalding sun, but you knew that it wasn’t the reason. You felt things for tentacles. You were a sucker for them (pun intended). Your heat had nothing to do with the sun, and everything to so with the otherworldly creature in front of you.
He was turning away from you, approaching the water and taking those enticing tentacles with him. Fuck no. "Wait!" You screamed at him before he touched the water.
He turned around, his sad eyes confused again. "You said you didn't want me."
"I- I know." You tried to think of a fast answer. "I- I was wrong." Wrong? What the fuck was wrong with you, that was the real question there. He tried to grope you with his tentacles, he did grope you, and you? You were asking him to come back and do it with intent this time? Dang, you were a pervy human.
"I need to hear it." He told you, his eyes fixated on your face. You felt a spark of comfort knowing he would stop if you asked him to, he already did. And now, with your consent, you wanted him to do all kinds of crazy depraved things to your body. You wanted to experience what a good tentacle-fuck could feel like and not the fake experience you got from your tentacle dildo at home.
You knew you should be more concerned, maybe even more confused about the existence of sea monsters with tentacles and abs of steel… But at that moment you could only feel the heat of his gaze over your body, the still present slimy substance on your skin and the wetness dripping from your pussy. You were horny, as horny as you’d ever felt. And he was there, ready to fuck you if you asked.
"I want you." You whispered, embarrassed.
"Good girl." You moaned at his words, your inner sub melting with his praise. He approached you again, his body undulating and his tentacles rapidly reaching for you. But he didn’t touch you, not yet.
"Aren't you scared, pretty girl?" You shook your head. "You should." He sentenced, making you shiver at the danger in his voice. Dang, that was fucking hot. "You want all of me?" You nodded, lost in a breeze of lust. And then his tentacles touched you, all over. He held you down again, this time on your back. The heat inside of you felt like a raging flame.
He didn’t waste a second. His suckers met your clit and you felt an out of body experience. "You like that, pretty girl? You should see how beautiful you look right now. How pretty my tentacles look against your skin." His words were making you squirm, not used to receive so many compliments. But you couldn’t escape his assault on you, his tentacles holding you down, his suckers taking pleasure out of you without asking.
You came faster than ever, and he hadn’t even had to enter you. He only needed one tentacle and a clever sucker to make you into a mess, and you couldn’t be more grateful. He probed at your entrance, making you moan again as he pushed inside. Two of his tentacles reached your boobs and the suckers latched into your nipples, the sensation so overwhelming that you came again, screaming so loud he shoved a tentacle in your mouth.
“Be quiet, pretty girl. I don’t want others to come see my gift.” He told you as he pushed his tentacles further down your holes. The tentacle in your mouth touched the back of your throat, making you gag as he moaned over you. The on on your pussy touched your G-spot insistently, the sensation to rough and raw that you couldn’t stop the gushing juices you let out, coming again. “You cum so prettily, your pussy looks so pink and puffy around my tentacle… I bet you can do more. Can you do more, pretty girl?” You nodded fervently, wanting so bad to be good for him. To be a good girl.
He fucked your mouth and pussy in tandem, his tentacles touching you all over. After what you thought was the ten orgasms, he lowered his pace. You were panting, your body shivering, and tears running down your face as the assault on your sensitive areas. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.
"This is okay?" A tentacle probed your asshole, pushing inside slowly, breaching your unexplored hole carefully. You wanted to nod, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to move without orgasming again. He kept looking at your face analyzing your reactions, repeating whatever made your body shiver, your pussy quiver, your moans escape around his tentacles.
And suddenly all your holes were full, his figure looming over you as he moved his tentacles all over. Inside and out, he was touching every inch of your body.
"Take me further. Come on." His embrace tightened as he pushed harder and faster into your holes, your moans muffled by the tentacle down your throat. "Good girl." You felt completely controlled, cared and fucked out. All three at the same time. You asked for this, and you were mesmerized by the feel of his skin against yours. “One more.” You shook your head, you couldn’t get more, it hurt so good when he pushed inside, but you didn’t think you could do more. You cried around the tentacle in your mouth and he shushed you, wiping your tears with another tentacle. Gods, he was all over you. “Come on, pretty girl, one more and I’ll stop.” He kept fucking you through your turmoil, the pleasure and pain mixing in the most excruciating sensation you’d ever felt.
“Come on, come for me one more time.” And you came. You felt some fluid leaking out of his tentacles, covering you in a mass of slime, down your throat, up your cervix… You were stuffed full of slimy liquid as he screamed over you.
After all that you just had one clear thought: real-life tentacles were a lot better than silicone dildos.
#sea monster#monster#monster fucker#monster x human#monster imagine#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#terato#sea monster x human#sea monster x reader#fem!reader#monster kink#monster smut#terat0philliac#request
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Damage done
Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader
Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)
Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully
Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts
Word count: 4K
A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌
It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.
So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.
It was about the play at Sarah’s school.
“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”
“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”
You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.
You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.
“It’s your kid, Joel–”
“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”
“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”
“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.
“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.
“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”
“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”
“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.
“No, you’re not.”
“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.
“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.
It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.
Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.
Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…
Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.
“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.
He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.
Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.
You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.
“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“No, you didn’t…”
“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”
Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.
But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”
He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.
“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”
He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.
“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”
A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.
“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”
You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.
“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”
“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”
Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.
Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.
“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”
“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”
You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.
“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”
His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.
Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.
You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.
“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”
“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”
You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.
And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.
“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”
“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.
“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.
“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”
Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.
“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”
He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.
Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.
Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.
You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.
Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.
“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.
And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.
You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…
You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.
You couldn’t lose him.
“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”
You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.
“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”
You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.
“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”
“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”
He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.
“What can I do?”
That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.
“What?”
“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.
“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”
Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.
“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”
The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.
“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”
“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.
“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”
You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”
“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”
You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.
His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.
“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.
“I want to take care of you.”
“But your back pains…”
“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”
You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”
His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.
He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.
But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.
“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.
“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.
“Can you… can you hold me?”
Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.
Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.
You knew you were safe with Joel.
It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.
Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.
But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.
And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.
When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.
“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.
He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us#joel miller x y/n#tlou hbo#young joel miller#sarah miller#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff
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in secret | csc
pairing: idol!choi seungcheol x model!reader
themes: secret relationship, situationship
warnings: minors dni! smut, fingering, mentions of reader having breasts and a vagina
ring. ring. ring.
you didn’t bother checking who was calling as there was only one person to call you during your schedule.
“you know you can’t keep calling me while i’m at work cheol.”
you hear a chuckle on the other end of the line as you pick up another booty call from seungcheol. you had met him through an event where you accidentally bumped into him as you were leaving your dressing room and the rest was history.
“yet you still always answer baby.”
“only because god knows how pouty you get when i don’t.” you laugh as you wave your collegues goodbye, your fittings and schedule over for the day.
you had walked over to your car still on the phone with cheol as you unlocked your car and got in to continue your call in private.
“what is it you want tonight? i’m pretty tired for sex today.”
ah, yes. you were in a friends-with-benefits type of relationship with cheol after that one incident where you both were at a after party in which both of you had alcohol in your system but still sober enough to decide to have sex in his car before he drove you home to your apartment.
“i’m not calling you for sex—well tonight i’m not.” he laughs as you hear the faint sounds of the radio in the background. “i was passing by your favorite restaurant and bought too much food for one person to eat alone so i was gonna ask you if i could come over and share a meal with you tonight.”
“woah, who are you and what have you done to the cheol i met first?” you teased him as you pulled out of the parking and into the street to head home to your apartment a couple of blocks away.
“i can be a gentleman too if i wanted to you know? rude that you think otherwise.” you could see him pouting my the way his voice sounded over the phone.
“i’m kidding baby i know you are but yes you can come over. the doors are unlocked and i’m a few minutes away.” you answer.
“how many times do i have to tell you to not leave your doors unlocked? you’ll be the death of me woman seriously.”
“and how many times do i need to tell you my apartments security is really good. anyways, i got to pass by a shop to buy some stuff for my apartment. i’ll see you later.”
“m’kay, drive safe. see you later.”
༝༚༝༚
“—and then they forced them to hug it out with hannie after they had won the prize and could go home early! it was the funniest thing i saw today.” cheol laughed from the other side of the table as the both of you ate dinner together.
“i would’ve loved to see that in person.” you laughed as you imagined it happening infront of you.
you were familiar with his group, seventeen. he had ‘forced’ you to watch gose episodes and some of their (more specifically his) fancams from previous concerts during some of your more casual meet ups. you had enjoyed it so much you actually had a slight infatuation with wonwoo much to cheol’s dismay that he wasn’t your bias.
“you’d love the boys. they are the same on and off camera, i’m super proud of them really.” he gushed as he sipped on the beer you had bought before coming home.
“i’m sure they feel the same way about you,” you reassured him as he smiled at you.
cheol was a great leader, he was kind but firm especially when it came to his brothers. he would rather pay fines and reassure his fans than keep them overthinking about things. he was a pure soul—maybe that’s why over time you had slowly fallen for him.
“thanks baby.” he mouthed to you as you both enjoyed the rest of your dinner in comfortable silence.
you watched as he finished his food the same time you had before grabbing the plastic containers and throwing them in the trash tidying up your dining room before plopping down on the couch beside you. you had been planning on setting boundaries with him as you knew your feelings would get hurt if he finds a girl he actually wants to pursue and not just fuck.
you had past flings and relationships before you had met cheol. it was never easy for you to fall in love with the way you’ve fallen for cheol—not even with your exes. you had been the secret girlfriend or lover before so why was it so hard to be that with cheol? oh right. you weren’t even his girlfriend. you’re just a one-call away fuck when he needed you to be. but you’d also be the first person he’d run to when the world around him became too much for him to handle.
“cheol?” you called out softly as you approached the couch.
“hmm?” he hummed as he looked up from the tv to look at you.
you watched his brown eyes lock on your own as the nerves in your stomach knotted. you couldn’t do it but you knew you needed to before you hurt yourself by loving a man that wasn’t even yours to love.
could you stomach not being able to hold him the way only you could when it was just the two of you? to live with the thought that he’ll settle down with another woman and that he couldn’t do it with you? to know that you were good enough to fuck but not commit to fully?
“how long will we continue like this?” you ask as you take the spot on the couch beside him.
“what do you mean sweetheart?” he asked as his brows furrowed in confusion.
“this cheol. you and me. is this all we’re going to be? a quick fuck and leave?” you could see the way the gears in his mind were then turning.
he didn’t know what to answer.
“i thought we were fine with this kind of set up? you didn’t want any commitments and i didn’t too especially in the industry we are in.”
“i was at first. things happen seungcheol—things even sometimes i can’t stop.” you argue as you watch him fidget with his hands.
“i—i can’t do it (y/n). there’s so much on the line for me—for you! i have an album release coming up. you have your runway and cover launch. if anyone finds out, the backlash would be too much for both of us to quiet down quick enough that it won’t ruin everything we’ve built.” he reasoned as he stood up from the couch.
“am i really just a good fuck to you?” the question hung in the air as you watch him try to answer you but decided not to and grabbed his keys making a beeline for the door.
“so much for being a gentleman. goodbye asshole!” you shout at him as he leaves your apartment in silence.
you broke down in tears burrying your face into your throwpillow mourning a relationship that was never there to begin with. you had shared you body with him—intimate moments of just you and him as he worshipped your body. you had not only fucked but there was that one time in which he made love to you after he had been away on tour for a month. he touched your body as if he was memorizing every mole, scar and dip of your body, kissing every patch of skin he could as he slowly thrusted in and out of you as if trying to engrave you in his brain yet he couldn’t commit to you even if he did all that.
you knew since the beggining that you were playing a dangerous game when you had met and started messing with each other in secret, so you couldn’t blame him fully for hurting and leaving you when you wanted things to get serious.
you cried for him that night, vowing never to let anyone mess with your heart the way he did with yours. you allowed yourself to mourn him and what could’ve been before drifting off to sleep.
༝༚༝༚
a month had passed since that night, everything was getting better. you had walked for one of your dream brands in their show in paris before being flown back to korea for a cover shoot. you had managed to avoid thinking about him successfully burying yourself in your work.
you had glanced at the calendar hung on the wall in your little office where the date tomorrow was encirled with red ink with his handwriting messily scribbled beneath the date.
new album release in which you’d drool over wonwoo instead of me :(
you had avoided opening twitter to stop yourself from looking at updates from seventeen hoping for a glance of him even going as far as to download weverse to catch a live of him. yet your finger hovered over his contact on your phone wanting to call and check in on him as he was always nervous whenever he had events coming up.
“no stop that. you’re not going to make yourself available for someone who thinks your just a good fuck.” you mutter to yourself as you close your phone.
your room still had traces of him you haven’t got the guts to get rid of yet. his perfume still sits on your vanity as he sometimes stays the night and always forgets to bring his perfume with him to use which resulted in him leaving his bottle of perfume in your room. his jersey from that one gose episode hangs from the chair in the corner of the room from that time you asked him to bring you home wonwoo’s but refused to do so saying it would be weird to see you wearing wonwoo’s jersey when you were fucking him. his toothbrush is still by the sink in your ensuite and his spare clothes are still on your top drawer waiting for him to come and use them—but he won’t because he’s doing better than you are and moving on from your little situationship.
his side of the bed still smells like him despite you spraying your perfume on it. he just manages to haunt you in the solitude of your own home. you’re thinking gets interrupted by a call from an unknown number on your phone.
“hello?” you greet unsure.
breathing is the only thing heard on the other line so in your better judgement you turn the call off thinking somebody just dialled the wrong number by accident.
you shrugged it off before tossing your phone to your bed and rearranging your vanity to keep your mind busy.
ping!
a notification interrupts your rearranging seeing your phone light up as a message comes through.
open the door.
“open the door?” you read out loud as you see the text. confused as the number isn’t saved you decided to check your front door as a safety measure.
you peep through the hole in your front door to see no one there but you decided to open and check. you glanced at the hall seeing no one there but to your surprise there was a paper bag on the floor. you picked it up and placed it on your kitchen counter before locking the door behind you.
you opened the bag to find an unsealed album with wonwoo’s signature on it. confused you rummage through the bag to pull out wonwoo’s jersey from that one gose episode.
“what the hell?” you asked confused as you pulled your phone out to check the number that had texted you. it wasn’t a number saved in your phone but you had an inkling to whom it was from.
you decided to call the number to confirm your suspicions. you had waited a while before the call got answered. and boy were you ready to give them a piece of your mind.
“hello?” he answers as you pace back and forth in your kitchen holding the album in your hand.
“yes, hello to you too. what the fuck is this? why would you send me an album signed by wonwoo and his jersey from that one gose episode? are you that fucked up seungcheol?” you fumed as you waited for him to say something.
“well?” you pushed as he wasn’t answering you.
“hi, uhm, it’s not seungcheol. i’m gonna introduce myself first, my name is joshua hong. i’m seungcheol’s group member and he borrowed my phone to text you. he isn’t here right now but i’ll make sure to relay the message you had for him. also, don’t worry about me spilling your secret i’m not gonna tell anyone about the two of you. you have my word for it.” you could feel the heat build up on your cheeks in embarrassment.
“i’m sorry! i thought you were seungcheol. i probably should’ve let you talk first before i went off on you.” you apologize as you hear joshua chuckle.
“don’t worry about it, i get where you’re coming from. don’t tell cheol but you were right setting boundaries to your situation with him.”
it was nice to know joshua was on the same page with you regarding the matter.
“yeah but it may have cost me his presence in my life. well, until he had contacted me again today.” you admitted as he sighed.
“i told him he should’ve used his own number to contact you but he wouldn’t listen to me. that man honestly, he can be so dumb with things like this but is so smart in other things.”
“i was debating calling him just hours ago. i know how tense he gets with your album releases but i—“
“you wanted him to reach out to you because you already told him what you wanted out of your situation. yeah, i know. he told me about you guys a week ago.”
“he did?” you asked surprised.
you really didn’t think he’d talk about you and your situation with anyone else. truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it. seungcheol had all the time during your no-contact period to reach out but he never did so you thought he was fully over your relationship. hearing from joshua that he was talking about it with someone else somehow gave you a thought that he might actually be thinking about you still.
“he hasn’t been able to talk to anybody else about it because of the circumstances but i could tell something was troubling him so i just waited for him to open up to me without being forced to and he did eventually. i know he misses you—he hasn’t shut up about it to me,” he sighs as you pick at your nails. “he means well, y’know? he just has a lot on his shoulders being our leader and the shield that protects everyone around him but i know deep down your good for him and i know he knows it too. just hear him out please?”
“i will, thank you joshua. congratulations on your new album by the way. i’m sure you’ll be hitting the charts and winning awards for it soon enough.” you thank him as he says his thanks and ends the call leaving you to your thoughts.
your phone sits on the counter as you gathered up the courage to text him and soon enough you pressed send.
where are you? we need to talk.
༝༚༝༚
seungcheol had arrived at your door an hour later, knocking lightly on your door you might’ve thought you hadn’t heard him if you didn’t know he was coming over. you opened the door for him not bothering to look at the peephole as he shuffled quietly past you and into your living room. he glanced around the apartment seeing it was still the same way as the day he left you so suddenly. he normally felt at home but this time he felt so tiny and out of place despite all the times he used to come over. he glanced over the familiar paper bag on your kitchen counter with the album and jersey he dropped off.
he could feel your gaze at him but he avoided making eye contact with you which he used to love doing. your eyes were his favorite thing to look at—no matter what you were doing your eyes always showed how you felt despite you not saying it verbally. he would tell you how much he loved your eyes even if he was in the middle of fucking you. he’d often tell you to keep your eyes on him despite you being so fucked out yet you’d do as he asked because you loved how he looked at you. deep down he thinks he knew that the moment he started to look for you in the people he’d interact with everyday was the moment he started seeing you more than just another person he’d call to fuck—he loved you long before he had the guts to let you know and seeing you for the first time after no contact truly did things to him.
“hey.” he spoke softly as he finally looked at you for the first time in a month.
god, you looked so beautiful even if your face held no emotions as you looked at him.
“i did all the talking last time so i think it’s fair i give you this moment to air out your thoughts before i make a decision.” you answered stiffly.
he nodded in understanding as he tried to gather his thoughts together before he opened up his mouth to speak.
“truth be told, i got overwhelmed when you were insinuating that you wanted to be more than just what our set up was but that isn’t a good enough explanation for what i was feeling at that moment.”
it was true, with everything on his plate at that moment it just got suffocating for him so he left without saying anything. it was one of the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life because he wanted nothing more to say something—anything to you.
“i had so much time to think about us over the month of no contact. i learned things about me that i wish i knew the moment you confronted me about what we were and how things were going to play out for us in the long run. i want you, (y/n). i wish i told you that night that i left. i don’t want you just physically because you are so much more to me than just a body to fuck. don’t get me wrong the sex is amazing with you and i feel like i’m on another world when i get to touch you, hold you, and just be with you.” he explains as he inched closer to you.
“but i’m scared to love you. i don’t want to ruin what we have because i’ve seen other couples in our industry get destroyed just because they love each other. i know i can handle the backlash i’d received but i’d hate to be the reason you’d be getting them too—fuck, i love you. god knows when it happened but i do and i can’t stop no matter what i do to try and supress my feelings. you weren’t and aren’t just a good fuck to me—your my entire world and i’m lucky enough to be able to orbit around you like how the moon does.” he could touch your face with how close he was to you by now. the tears falling down your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to wipe away but he didn’t still unsure about if he could touch you that way again.
“you were the first person i felt both wildly unsure and unwaveringly certain of and i kept falling for you and the little things you’d do. i missed looking into your eyes, kissing your lips when you rambled too much, playing with your hair when we cuddle after sex, the little noises you make when you lose at games, and the way i’d wake up with you in my arms when you let me stay over. i missed you so much baby. i’m so sorry i didn’t contact you sooner.” cheol could feel his voice break as you cupped his cheeks. he leaned into your touch as he caught your scent—your vanilla scented shampoo and a hint of his own perfume mixed together. he loved it.
“you’re an asshole y’know?” she spoke through her tears as she allowed him to run his fingers through her locks. “i missed you.” she peered up at him as he smiled at her.
seungcheol had gazed into her eyes—he stared at her like she was the stars in the sky and he was basking in their glow. he missed her truly and he was going to show her how much he had missed her.
his eyes glanced down on her lips before he had closed the space between them with a kiss. the kiss was full of emotions; longing, happiness, and desire. it had been the longest since he went without being able to touch her body, the longest time being a month when he was away on tour.
he doesn't know when his obsession with you started, but one look at your bambi like eyes and he was hooked. jailed and chained to nights filled with your doe eyes brimming tears and cries of pleasure. oh the sweet sounds you’d make because of him.
"you like that? hmm?" a moan escapes your lips as he palmed your soaked sleep shorts.
“yes.” you answer breathlessly as you feel him lift you up and lock your legs around his hips. gravity causing you to settle down with your cunt pressed against his hard dick.
“oh fuck.” he groaned as he felt your wet cunt slide down his dick. “i missed having you like this baby.”
he had managed to get you both into your room as quickly as he could without bumping into your stuff with his lips on yours before setting you down in your bed. he littered your thighs with kisses as he pulled your shorts down revealing you slick cunt.
“no panties tonight, hm?” he smirked as you blushed.
“you make me go insane baby.” he removed his shirt along with his bottoms bearing all himself for you to see—not that you haven’t seen it before.
cheol dipped a finger into your core, working around the sopping wet muscle to fit in a second. he never broke eye contact with you, even as you groaned at the sudden contact as his finger grazed your bundle of nerves .
"it's okay, baby. come look at me, please? look right at me. that’s it, that’s my good girl."
as his fingers began to speed up, the tension in your thighs loosened, giving him more access to the rest of you. your walls took them in with ease as you welcome the familiar sensation of his fingers being stuffed in you, the wet sucking noises beginning to fill the room along with your moans. his breath is steady as ever, as if he's breathing you through this in an effort to slow you down from getting there before he even gets to truly have his way with you the way that he intends. he hadn’t fucked you in so long—he was going to take his sweet time.
your eyes locked into his—his favourite sight ever seeing you like that, breath hitching in the back of your throat catching the soft cries of his name that you tried to utter. pulling back, cheol removed his fingers from you with a slick pop, sticking the digits into his mouth, cleaning them of your cum.
"always so sweet," he remarked, dragging his thumb across his lip, and bringing it to yours. instinctively, you began to suck on it, slowly letting the taste of your own arousal coats your tongue. you could feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh, the heat between your legs drawing him in ever closer. it was intoxicating. in all your relationship's timespan, you were never sure of the exact moment that you had started to like him at a different light, but you knew that it lay somewhere in the hours he spent buried in between your thighs as he ate you out like he had been starving for years.
"i wanna feel you," your voice was just above a whisper. interlacing your fingers, his hand much bigger than your own, his entire body appeared massive in the small slivers of light that were in the room. your hand wrapped around the base of his swollen erection, a string of curses escaping his lips as you ran your hands up and down the length, icy fingertips teasing at his prominent veins. shifting his weight and allowed your hands to guide him, lining up perfectly with your glistening slit as his head teased at the entrance a few times, positioning itself just mere centimeters from your cunt.
"i love you so much cheol—fuck." you moaned out as your fingers dug into his back.
with eyes locked onto each other, your mouth fell open as he bottomed out. it took you no time to adjust, but the shockwaves ripped through your body just the same as they always did when you were this sensitive for him. he knew that you didn't have long from the way your walls clenched around his dick. it took a few seconds of adjustment, but he nestled himself inside, lowering his head to whisper into your ear.
"i'm gonna move now, 'kay baby?"
you nodded, arms pulling him down to your chest more as his dick dragged itself against your walls. after a few soft, shallow thrusts, your nails bit into his shoulder—the signal that he could go faster. his hips began to rock more evenly, building an even pace as the sounds of your walls began to fill the room. each kiss of his tip against your soft spot gave way to a familiar, lewd squishing noise coming from your delicate hole. your whines only urged him to go a step further, nails raking down his back so hard you were sure you had begun to draw blood. his body was marred with scars, but you knew that every scar on his back had been left there by you, an ever present reminder of the sleepless nights together you two shared.
"cheol—please, please harder," you croaked. he was right where you needed him, but not giving in. he was such an tease.
"are you sure you want more?" his demeanor shifted as lust consumed him.
"i'm not gonna hold back, you know," he started.
"i missed fucking this cunt—fuck—not gonna slow down until you're shaking."
he started ramming into you even harder, each thrust jolting your body backward and further up the surface of the mattress. he was slipping, eyes beginning to lose their light even as they were still locked onto yours. you could feel his grip around your waist getting stronger, digging into you. the veins in his arms started to bulge, he was losing himself in the euphoric washes of your body. you were shaking already, clamping down on his thick cock erratically.
"not going to stop until you're so cock-drunk on me."
every dizzying motion of his hips had your blood rushing to every part of your body. the wall in your abdomen began to shatter as you could feel your own mind slip.
"cheol—it's—i'm—baby—i'm gonna—" you could barely manage getting the words out. he placed a thumb in your mouth again, giving you some semblance of comfort all the while egging you on.
curse him and his high endurance.
"go on, cum for me. cum for your cheol baby."
you yielded to him completely, body simply going limp, giving in to euphoria as your climax overwhelmed your frame. you couldn't stop yourself from letting go completely, gushing your own translucent slick over his own lower half, tilting him over the edge.
"fuck," he moaned out as he reached his own high. "here it comes—here it fucking comes..."
he kissed you through it, groaning into your mouth with his cock throbbing inside you and painting your insides with thick, milky white.
"Gotta—fuck—stuff my pretty baby so full."
and that he did.
as his own comedown presented itself, he collapsed onto you. you watched his chest rise and fall for a few seconds, assuring yourself that he was still all the way there. his head lifted, eyes meeting your watchful gaze. they were bright, admirable, and warm.
"i love you," cheol murmured into your hairline, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he had pulled you to his chest to cuddle after chasing your highs. you squirmed a bit, repositioning yourself so that you could run your fingertips up and down his chest, tracing every curvature of his skin.
"i love you too," you cooed.
prying him off you for a second, you were about to stumble in the darkness toward the bathroom only to be pulled back into his chest with his own brute strength.
"i have to pee, cheol," you laughed as he caged you in his arms.
“let me join you and get you cleaned up.”
“you and i both know that won’t happen when your in there with me.” you chuckle as you melt into his arms.
“well then…round 2?” he smiled.
༝༚༝༚
you had woken up in a state of pure bliss with your body flush against cheol’s as his arm draped over your hip keeping you close to him.
it wasn’t a dream. he was here. your cheol was here.
you traced over his features as he slept soundly. you couldn’t help yourself—he looked beautiful under the light of the morning light. you could get used to this. he stirs in his sleep as you run your fingers through his blonde locks.
“g’morning baby.” he greets voice deep and raspy from sleep.
“hi handsome.” you smile as he pulls you closer to him and pecks you on your forehead.
“i could get used to this.”
“happy album release day baby.” you greet softly as you peppered his jaw with kisses.
“thank you, did you like my gift for you?” he asked as you pull away and slap his chest.
“you’re so horny. can’t we not associate everything with sex?” you tease as he raised a brow at you.
“baby i was talking about the jersey and the album i had wonwoo sign for you.” he deadpanned as you beam in excitement.
“oh my god! i forgot about that—wait right here.” you run out of the room as cheol laughs at you.
he felt so happy seeing you so happy but he wasn’t that happy seeing you walk back into your room with just wonwoo’s jersey on.
“i think this is my new favourite top. whatcha think baby?” you smile as you twirl around to show cheol wonwoo’s name on the back of the jersey instead of his.
“mm looks good.” he answers curtly brows knitting together in annoyance.
“i know right! wonwoo’s built is so much bugger than mine that this looks like a dress on me.” you played with the hem of the jersey as you hear cheol scoff in annoyance.
“take it off baby.” he grumbles as you shake your head no.
“nu-uh, it’s really comfy.”
“baby you have my exact same jersey. just wear mine.” he points towards his jersey as you shrug.
“but wonwoo’s my bias—”
“—and yet you weren’t cumming all over his dick last night were you? come on baby just wear mine.” he butts in as you raise a brow at him.
“are you jealous mr. choi?” you tease your arms on your hips.
“me? jealous of your crush on wonwoo? no way.” he answers defensively.
“you won’t mind me wearing this around then.” you sit at the edge of the bed turning you back on cheol as you scroll through your phone.
you felt him creep up behind you as the mattress dips from his weight. his hand snakes around your throat as your pulled back into his chest a smirk playing on your lips from how he’s acting.
“you’re mine baby. so i’ll give you two options: change and wear my jersey or…” he tightens his grip on your neck as he whispers in your ear. “i fuck you so hard you won’t know anyone else’s name but mine.”
“i think i’ll keep the jersey on,” you bit your lip excitedly as you hear him chuckle from behind you.
“always such a brat. well, buckle up baby. you’re in for such an eventful day.”
let’s just say you were so cock drunk from cheol’s dick that you couldn’t walk straight for a couple hours needing his assistance throughout the day.
#seventeen#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen scenarios#choi seungcheol#seungcheol smut#scoups x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeenfanfic#seventeen smut#choi seungcheol smut#seventeen fanfic#seventeen seungcheol
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Sundered 7: TIES
Pairing: Gojo x reader
• Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 …+
Genre: Angst
tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault
word count: 6.0k
And he was happy. But never the happiest.
Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.
She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.
“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.
“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.
“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.
Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.
“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.
“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?
“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”
Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.
She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.
Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.
“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.
This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.
—-------------------------------------------------
“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.
“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.
Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.
“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”
He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.
When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.
His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.
Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.
‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.
He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.
His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.
Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.
Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.
A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.
If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.
Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.
Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.
Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.
“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.
—---------------------------------------
“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.
She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.
If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.
You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.
“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.
“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.
“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.
One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.
“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.
“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.
“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.
If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.
A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.
With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.
——————————————
“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.
Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.
And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.
“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.
“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.
“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”
“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.
“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.
Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“
Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.
“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.
“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.
His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.
But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.
“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.
When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.
“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.
“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.
“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.
“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.
“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.
“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”
In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.
All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.
—-------------------------------------------------
“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.
“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.
“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”
Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.
She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.
That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.
With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.
Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.
Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.
“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.
“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.
“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.
“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.
“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“
“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.
“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”
With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.
She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.
—————————————
“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.
“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.
Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.
“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.
“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.
“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.
“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.
“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.
“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.
“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.
“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.
“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.
“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.
Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.
“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.
Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.
“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”
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Shut Out
Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader
Summary: Req from @i-am-a-lost-girl16: Hockey Az and Figure Skater reader?
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,493
Notes: See? I still write 😏
_________________________________________
“Hey! I still have the ice for another fifteen minutes,” you shout at the hockey players that are suddenly stampeding through the gate to the ice rink like animals.
You cut to a harsh stop, ice shavings spraying in your wake as you cross your arms over your chest and glare at the Velaris Bats hockey team gliding easily across the ice rink where you were just practicing your figure skating routine. Normally, you’d be ogling the broad players in their onyx and violet practice jerseys, already splitting into teams for a scrimmage as they ignore the fiery look on your face, but with only a few more weeks until nationals, you need every minute on the ice that you can get.
“Sorry, Princess,” Cassian “Bloodshed” Bailey says, flipping a puck onto the tip of his stick as he skates past, tossing it up and catching it again a few times as if it’s a display that should impress you. Right now, none of their tricks or flirtatious teases are doing anything of the sort. “Gotta big game against the Wolves this weekend. Coach wants us on extra ice time so we’re in tip-top shape.”
“I’m pretty sure when he said extra ice time, he didn’t mean to interrupt my ice time,” you growl at him, but he’s already distracted, bobbing the puck back and forth as he approaches the net. The sound of his stick on the ice echoes throughout the arena as he takes a slap shot.
You refrain from smiling smugly when the goalie stops his shot with a triumphant cackle.
You stubbornly want to stay on the ice, take up the time you’re allowed to practice your routine, but with all the pucks zipping around, it could be detrimental to your health if you were to trip or—Mother forbid—land on one as you come out of an axel.
Eyes flitting angrily around the colony of Bat’s players, you scour the ice for the team captain, Rhysand. The thing is, all dressed up in their pads and helmets, the players are a blur of clones, whipping by you on both sides as they warm up.
There’s always one player that never fails to stand out to you, no matter how much he tries to disappear from the crowd. He catches your eye as he skates by, the fallen strands of hair from your ponytail lifting with the speed that he’s moving, taking a puck down the ice as a breakaway ensues.
He dodges you easily, and your heart races in your chest at the fleeting glance he passes you. His hazel eyes have a hard, determined set to them, as if he knows before he’s even finished crossing the neutral line that he’s going to score a goal.
Azriel Teller.
He dips around the defensemen effortlessly, and if you were more well-versed in hockey to know if he was actually as good as he seems, you’d be sure that he’s a shoo-in for going to the big leagues after graduation.
Azriel feigns to the right, deking out the player in the violet practice jersey, before placing a well-aimed shot at the net.
It soars past the goalie, hitting the net and falling to the ice with a clatter that’s deafened by his teammates cheering and skating his way to clang their helmets together in celebration.
From the middle of the player puddle, those glittering hazel eyes find yours again and your breath whooshes from your chest at the smirk he pairs with it.
“(Y/N?) What are you still doing out here?” A voice startles you away from the glorious sight of Azriel. You flinch, teetering off balance as you whirl around, flailing your arms as you startle.
Rhysand catches you as you slip, steadying you against his chest. The sound of his hockey stick slapping the ice is loud in your ears and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you clutch to the captain of the Velaris Bats jersey with an iron grip.
You were nearly born on the ice, your parents getting you into skating at a very early age, and here you are, tripping around like a newborn deer walking for the first time.
All in front of Azriel, too.
When you have your feet beneath you again, you slide back a pace, the frown returning to your face as you tilt your chin to address Rhysand.
“Your team cut into my time early,” you say sourly, but standing this close to Rhysand, you can’t seem to find that fire in the pit of your stomach that raged when the team first stepped onto the ice. The goal Azriel all but dedicated to you with that look snuffed it right out. “I don’t appreciate you guys barging in here on my time, thinking you own the damn place. I have nationals to practice for, you know.”
Rhysand grimaces in response. He’s someone you might even consider a friend, having run into the hockey boys on multiple occasions, the figure skaters and the hockey teams having to share one rink now that the other one is finally being updated with the generous donation the school received. He’s nice, a good team captain, if you’ve ever seen one, caring not only about his players, but the circumstances everyone at the Velaris Ice Center is facing with recent construction.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and he means it. “I was in a call with coach and wasn’t able to stop Cassian from leading the charge out here.”
“This is the second time it’s happened in two weeks, Rhys.” You all but huff. You don’t want to act like the prissy figure skater they probably all think you are, but enough is enough. Winning Nationals is important to you, and you can’t become distracted by hockey players or lose any ice time.
Rhysand opens his mouth to reply but before he can say anything, Azriel is whizzing past, shoulder checking his captain as if the consequences of that don’t bother him in the slightest.
You gasp as Rhys recoils, even more so when you see the cross look on Azriel’s face when he shoots a warning glower over his shoulder.
Rhys glares, flipping his friend off, and you have to tuck your lips between your teeth to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of his gloved fingers thick with padding flipping Azriel off.
Rolling his eyes, the captain turns back to you.
“What was that all about?” You ask tentatively, not sure you want to know the answer. Your eyes are still on Azriel who’s hopped over the fence into the team’s bench and is currently squirting some water into his mouth. It drips down his chin, gliding down the thick column of his throat and into the neckline of his pads.
The sight makes your throat dry.
“I’ll try better,” Rhysand says, hands on his hips as he looks around the rink. His perfectly plucked brows are furrowed as he thinks, and you can’t help but wonder if he gets them professionally done or not. “Hey, assholes,” he suddenly shouts, and you flinch when his voice echoes around the arena. “Get on the benches, now!”
You swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as the team follows their captains’ orders with grumbles. They don’t seem to want whatever lecture they think they’re going to get from Rhysand, but he ignores their grousing, turning back to you when the last ass has hit the bench.
“You have fifteen minutes, (Y/N),” Rhys says, skating backwards towards the bench. When your jaw drops, his grin turns wicked.
He wants you to finish practicing right now? While the entire team watches? Is he fucking crazy?
“You can’t be serious,” you shriek, almost stomping your skate-clad foot on the ice. Yes, you’re used to performing in front of a crowd even larger than the team, but these guys are like fiends. Half of them glower at you while the other half is looking at you like they want to fool around on center ice.
“Totally am,” Rhysand shouts back, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are hot enough to melt the ice beneath your skates. “C’mon now, you’re wasting precious practice time for the both of us!”
“Fuck you,” you grumble, but he’s right, you do want your time back. Preferably without a horde of horny college hockey players watching you, but you’ll take what you can get this time.
Skating over to where your phone is placed on the rail of the away team benches, you restart your song with a few beats of silence before so you can get into your starting position back in the middle of the rink.
When the first string of the violins starts, you’re off, determined now more than ever at getting this routine perfect.
You’re all too aware of the hazel eyes tracing your every move as you skate, though.
#azsazz#hockey!bat boys#hockey!azriel#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel au#acotar#acomaf#acowar#azriel/reader
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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2
Part 1
Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.
For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!
It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!
“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”
It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.
“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”
“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”
“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.
“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”
“B, a little help here?”
“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”
Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.
“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.
“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”
“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.
“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.
Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”
“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.
“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.
Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.
“Holy shit” Drake whispered.
Damian frowned. “What?”
“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.
“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.
“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”
The commlines erupted into chaos.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”
“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.
“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”
“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”
Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”
“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”
Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”
Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”
They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.
“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”
“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.
Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.
“Robin? Stop!”
He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.
Nothing happened.
He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.
Brother of blood, brother of soul
Never buried but already mourned
In lightning and ice the scorned child returned
To strike down the Demon’s Head
With all that Death earned
Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.
“Son…”
Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.
Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…
“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.
Part 3
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#batman#dc domics#batfamily#no beta we die like danny phantom#prophecy universe#the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#fanfic#congrats bruce it's a boy#clockwork loves melodrama
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Simple Math / Part Seven
Simple Math masterlist
Ghost/Soap/female reader
4.8k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Brief suggestive content, sex dream. Mentions of domestic violence, stalking. Hospital setting, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Mentions of stress and weight loss. Soft dads. Little bit of flirting. Simon is... Simon.
You get caught in a spell.
Johnny knows this is a dream.
It’s an odd thing, to be conscious of it, to know you’re dreaming but still unable to control your actions. It’s like watching a movie of yourself, but also being yourself, directing your body without having a say in what it’s doing.
He knows this is a dream, because you’re in it. You’re in their home, in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, boy shorts rucked up over the little lightning bolts that arc across your hips, the underside of your cheeks. You’re smiling at him too, like you belong in there, like it’s yours too, and his heart swells, growing to a preposterous size.
“There’s my bunny.” He pulls you into his chest, mouthing up your neck and over your jaw. Your skin tastes like sugar, and when he gets to your lips, his hands shift, sliding down your back to grab two fistfuls of your ass with a groan. “Missed ye.”
“We missed you too.” His fingers trace the edge of your panty line, barely dipping into where you drip for him. “Come to bed, Si’s waiting.” You whisper, stifling a moan.
“Johnny.” Simon calls him, too loudly. He wants to hiss, snap at him about not waking the baby. “Johnny!”
His eyes blink open. White ceiling stares back at him, and he turns his head, finding Simon with a bemused look on his face.
“I was havin’ a great dream.” Johnny grumbles, latching onto him. Simon scoots closer, lifting the back of his hand to his lips with a secretive smile, dotting kisses down to his wrist.
“I know.”
“- and he has access privileges, as long he’s not interfering with care, he’s allowed to be in the room whenever he deems fit. Obviously, in cases where he shouldn’t be, like burn debridement, he’s fine with stepping out, but you should expect him to sleep here.” The nurse nods, nervously peeking over your shoulder at Simon, who’s lurking in the hallway, staring through the glass at the transport techs getting Johnny settled in his room. You catch her eyes, motioning to redirect her attention, and she mumbles a meek apology. “They have a daughter, who Johnny has been mostly separated from since he got here, and he’s hoping to see her often, since she’ll be allowed to visit more freely now. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Okay.” Her toes tap against linoleum, weight shifting from foot to foot, and you resist the urge to sprint back to her boss and demand someone else. Fuck. Why does Nora have to be on maternity leave?
“This is my favorite patient.” You warn her instead, dropping your voice low, pitching it brazenly serious. “I don’t ever want to see him back upstairs again, and that’s going to depend a lot on you.”
“Okay, okay.” Her work phone rings, and you jerk your head in dismissal, not quite finished, but not seeing a need to continue to harangue her, either.
Simon glances at you from down the hall, head turning once you’re alone. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t call to you, or say your name, but you’re helpless to the magnetic yank of his presence, a beam of gravity dragging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder, looking into Johnny’s room. He’s asleep, dark lashes feathered against his cheeks, blissed out and nearly snoring. “This will be great.” You say quietly. “He can see Penny almost as much as he wants down here. There are far less restrictions, and he’s doing so well, there’s nothing to worry about it.” He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the x-ray vision that peels you open. Like he’s digging around in your head again.
“D’you have a minute?” You blink at him, graceful words dried out and missing.
“Uh, I… yeah, I’m technically off now so. Sure?”
“Have a tea with me? I’ll meet you outside the café, on the patio. Ten minutes alright?” Have a… have a tea with him?
His eyes are heavy. They’re lasered, locked onto yours, brows knitted together in something soft, some form of emotion that you don’t understand, framing his face above the mask. How can you say no?
“Okay, sure. Ten minutes.” You try to hide how your hands shake, tucking fingernail to palm, squeezing tight.
It doesn’t escape him.
You grow more afraid with each day, that nothing does.
The paper cup cradled in Simon’s outstretched grip is like every other paper cup you’ve seen before, drank from a thousand times, with steam wafting from its rim and aromatics spilling out into the air. “Sorry.” You blurt, reaching. His fingers brush against yours, warm contact momentarily stunning you. ‘Thanks.” You lift the tea to your nose, inhaling deeply.
Irish breakfast. With milk. Your favorite.
“How do you know what tea I drink?” You don’t mean for it to sound so suspicious, or aggressive, but it does. It’s nearly accusatory, but doesn’t affect him. He merely shrugs in response.
“I pay attention.” An engine turns over in the carpark, a small car sweeping across the lot as it turns out onto the street. You watch, feigning mild interest, trying to get a closer look at the driver without appearing too fixated. “So.” He sips, and then removes the lid, vapor rising from the top in a delicate little dance. “How long have you been at Addenbrooke’s?”
“A few years.” The answer is effortlessly supplied, like you’re under a spell. Your eyes go round. What are you doing? Crow’s feet crinkle at the corners of his own, and you manage a shaky smile.
“What brought you across the pond?” He jokes, velvet, soothing lilt in his voice.
“Work.” It’s easy to lie about this, the fabrication usually used in casual conversation almost every day with patients and new coworkers, people who are interested in you being from somewhere else, having a different accent, different education, customs, the whole lot. His jaw moves behind the mask, and before he can push the question further, you rush out your own interruption. “Simon, I want… I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” He nods. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s… the other night Johnny said something about,” Your face is nearly scalding, embarrassment laden lump stuck in the back of your throat. “about you and him, and… me, I guess…” you trail off, eyes darting down into the tea.
“Go on?”
“He said that you guys think I’m special, and you- you said-“
“That we’re here for you.” He finishes, nonchalant.
“Right.” You breathe a little easier, knowing he knows what you’re talking about, words picking up steam. “I want you to know that it’s totally normal to feel this way. It happens a lot, you know. Patients and, or their family members, loved ones, they get attached. This affection starts to happen towards a member of the care team because we become that person who… provides care, twenty-four seven. So, you and… and Johnny, feeling like you have this attachment towards me, it’s very normal. Not a big deal.” You finish in one big breath, cutting your ramble short. His cheeks swell behind the fabric, like he’s smiling, eyes squinting again.
“That’s not what this is.” That’s not… what this is? What does that mean?
“What?”
“Transference. That’s not what is happening here.”
“How do you…”
“I’ve had years of therapy.” He sighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” Say yes, the girl in your head screams. Tell him you need it all to stop. That you don’t like them, that it’s inappropriate. You know how this will end.
“No.” You don’t know why you don’t acquiesce to your own good sense, why you ignore the very clear boundaries and rules that have kept you alive this long.
“Bunny, I need you tell me, honestly, if you are uncomfortable.” He levels you with an intense look, seriousness bleeding from his irises to yours. You press your palms flat on the table, quelling their trembling.
“It’s not… it’s not you. Or Johnny.” You whisper, eyes slipping shut. It’s easier that way, to just close them, to hide. To pretend you’re somewhere else, to block everything out.
What the fuck are you doing right now? Your brain screams, but your heart wails.
What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected?
“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice is low, calming, and when you don’t answer, one of his hands folds over yours. “are you with me?”
“Yes.” You peek at him, and then fully let yourself look around, steadying the rancid fear that permeates through your body. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He hums, hand still over yours. It’s warm, and broad, big thumb stroking a slow circle into your skin. “Is today your Friday?” You nod.
“It is, yeah. I’m… I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.” He straightens in the chair, shoulders and torso so unbelievably wide, like a long forgotten mythological god. Or the trunk of a massive tree.
“Will you have dinner with us, tonight?” The last of the orange red dawn spills over the crest of the buildings, and the world spins, cold sweat breaking out down your back.
“What?”
“Dinner, with us. I’m picking up takeaway for Johnny from his favorite place as a celebration, for graduating the ICU. We’d love to spend some time with you. Get to know you, if that’s alright.”
“Oh, I…” Say no, you have to say no, shut this down. It’s too much risk.
“No pressure. Just, hanging out, talking. As friends, if you like.” Butterflies thrash in your stomach so violently your knees bounce, and your heart leaps, pitching itself off a cliff like it wants to die.
“Okay.”
“Great. I can pick you u-“
“No! No, I’m fine. I have some errands to run after I get up for the day so, I’ll just meet you here.” It will be just like going to work. No harm, no foul. You can hang out with them, and go home, just like you’re at work. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t.
You barely sleep. You pace, you nap, you thumb through endless craigslist listings in faraway cities for apartments, you read. You take the long way through the city back to your flat and slowly sift through pieces of your life that you want to keep. Your quilt from home, that’s been tucked away on a shelf. A sentimental trinket that belonged to your mom, also hidden in a drawer. These things that can be removed, without being noticed.
Not that it matters.
He hasn’t been here. Not since the sick shit he pulled with your underwear. It makes you curious when you inspect the undisturbed tape on the back side of the door, the light dusting of baking powder on the bedroom carpet, but not surprised.
It’s not unlike him, to make himself known and then suddenly disappear, the endless mind games partially intentional, and partially something not even he can control.
After all, duty calls.
He could still be in the city. He could still be watching. You don’t know anything for sure.
“Three things you cannot outrun in this world, babe. Death, taxes, and… me.” You mumble it to yourself, the same words that live in your head, in his voice, repeated, pulling a pair of scrubs from your dresser.
But you had been running, and still had your life to show for it.
It doesn’t matter, you know how this will end.
You’ve changed your clothes five times. You hem and haw in front of the mirror, trying not to look too closely at any one piece of yourself, switching shirt and pant combos until you finally settle on your usual, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They’re high waisted, because low rise is not even within the realm of possibility for your hips, and you appreciate how they fit, even if they may sit a little loose right now, given your recent stress levels.
You look fine, you decide. You look professional. You don’t really look attractive, in any way, but the scars on your torso are hidden, and with a little bit of make-up, you think you look presentable. At the very least, you don’t look like you’re half asleep, which is exactly how you feel.
Not like it matters, you chide. This isn’t a thing; it’s just hanging out. You’re going to put an end to this entire charade, tonight.
The train is quiet, and you’re extra watchful. Every face, every movement is logged, every jacket or hat or hood is inspected. Posture, skin tone, height, of every person you pass or see is tabulated and run through your mind. Your brain, a supercomputer in its own right, does it all, seamlessly. It wants to protect you, it keeps you on guard, it can look at a crowd of twenty people all facing the opposite direction and locate a potential threat, just by the shape of the shoulders.
You don’t see him, you don’t feel him, your skin doesn’t prickle, and you let the lack thereof bring you peace, if only for a few moments.
Johnny’s floor is bustling. You wave hi to those you know, checking in with his nurse for a moment, letting her know you’ll be hanging out for a bit. She doesn’t even bat an eye, thankfully, and you try to settle yourself as you turn down the hall.
You’re not prepared for what you find when you knock on his door and slide it open, breath catching for a moment, and you scramble to cover your initial balk.
Their daughter is here. She’s cuddled up on Johnny’s good side, the one without the burnt tissue or recovering surgical wound. She’s asleep, wearing a black onesie covered in skulls, her head tipped back and mouth open, chubby cheeks and sweet little face perfectly content. She’s got her entire fist wrapped around one of Johnny’s fingers, holding it right under her chin like she’s afraid he might vanish while her eyes are closed. “Hey, bun.” Johnny whispers, smiling so wide, two fingers stroking through the wispy curls on top of her head. “We snuck in a visitor tonight.”
“I see.” Your heart trembles.
“Fell asleep right away, next to her Da. Been missin’ him these past few nights.” Simon chuckles, patting Johnny’s leg gently, affectionately. There’s a bag of take out on the table behind him, as well as what looks like an overnight bag, a purple duffel stuffed full. “Price is on his way to pick her up.” Penny gurgles, eyes blinking open in a sleepy daze like she knew they were talking about her.
“Ye’re alright, sh-shh, wee lamb.” Johnny coos. She’s half soothed by his words, but the lights in the room are far too bright, and her small noises waver into a cry, frustrated and tired. He tries move her, cradler her higher up his chest, but his face falls with pain, and Simon swoops in, pulling her into his arms. “Bunny, could ye-“
“Would you-“ They both try to ask at once, and you flounder once you realize the intention, a cranky, sleepy Penelope being pushed into your arms.
“I-“ she wails, interrupting you, bending you to her will without fuss, and you hold her closer, rocking side to side, humming above her ear. Just like the NICU, like a patient, like your stint in L&D, it’s fine, it’s-
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Not fine. It’s not fine. Heat burns in your belly. He can’t call you that, not when you’re holding their baby. “Thank you.” Simon says over his shoulder. He’s moving Johnny, lowering the bed slightly to help reposition him, and they speak quietly to one another, voices low enough you can’t make out any of the words.
“I can help you with him, if you want.” He waves you off.
“I need the practice, won’t have you around all the time anymore, yeah? And once he gets home…”
“Ach. ‘m not paralyzed. Jus’ uncomfortable.” Johnny glowers, pouting, and you roll your eyes, rhythm steady, gently bouncing, letting Penny cuddle into your chest, snuggling her face against your arm and side. She’s beautiful, precious and sweet, cooing herself back into a light slumber, and you smile despite yourself, still rocking after her eyes start to shut. “Knew she’d like ye.” He says softly, and you glance up, surprised by the intensity of their focus, heavy gazes fixed on you.
“She’s very sweet.” Your lips twist.
“She is.” Simon agrees. “We were happy to get her some time with her Da. Good for both of ‘em.” His fingers find Johnny’s cheek, and then their hands meet, a palm pressed to lips, a whispered a I love you.
An intimate moment, as you stand there with their baby in your arms.
“Alright, now that ye’ve done the hard work by gettin’ her back down,” Johnny gestures, urging you to step forward, and you carefully place her back in his arms. For a moment, your faces are level, and you get caught in his eyes, nerves strung so tight they could be a tightrope. “I’ve got her.” Weeks in the hospital, and he still smells like cedar and oranges, woodsy citrus that envelopes you, your lashes fluttering on the inhale. “She likes ye.” He murmurs, breath warm and tickling over your cheek.
“Well, she’s...” you straighten, hands smoothing down the front of your top. They’re moist, somehow, and you tuck them behind your back. “She’s a good judge of character, I guess.” Simon’s phone vibrates, Johnny’s plush smile turning dour, and he sighs.
“Okay baby girl. It’s time.” She cries a little, readjusting to Simon’s hold, and he slings the purple duffel over his shoulder, promising to be right back. Johnny nods, eyes downcast, and his face twists once the door shuts, cheeks turning red, staccato, hiccupped breaths coming fast.
“Hey.” You whisper. “Hey, Johnny.” The chair at his bedside creaks under you, and you lean forward, fingertips lightly caressing the tape residue that still sticks to his skin. You should clean that off.
“’m alright.” His shoulders roll, chin jutting out, brilliant blue gleam in his eyes returning, like storm clouds rolling off after rain. He’s silent for a beat, pinky finger folding over yours. “How was yer day?”
“Oh, it was… fine.”
“Simon said ye were goin’ to catch up on some sleep?”
“Yeah, I didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles. “I feel okay though. Still awake at least.”
“I’m glad… ye came. I’m sorry if the other night, I was too… forward.”
“That’s okay. You’re just… so flirty, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” You tease, expecting to get a lighthearted quip in response, or a laugh, but he gives you neither, only a serious, sympathetic expression.
“I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable. Felt terrible, when ye ran off, I-“
“I’m fine, Johnny. You… you didn’t. I mean, it was just… confusing, this is… this is a lot.” He nods.
“I know it is.”
“And you don’t even know me.” His brow creases, focus narrowed in so tightly on you, white walls, white hospital blanket, white everything falling away in a spiral of color.
“I know ye better than ye might think." He cracks a smile. "We want to, if ye’d let us.” No, you don’t. You almost say it. Almost promise him that knowing you would be the stuff of their nightmares, that they have no idea what they’re trying to bite into, or bite off, a near guarantee that it would be than they could chew.
“Well, no harm in making new friends, right?” You entreat weakly, and his eyes flash, ethos of an entire life that you have no knowledge of slipping through, and the dark severity rumbling in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.
“Aye, bun. Especially when they look like ye in a pair of jeans.”
Dinner is an idyllic affair. Johnny’s favorite takeaway turns out, is Indian, like yours, and the three of you talk for hours, trading bites back and forth, laughing and listening to stories, discovering little bits and pieces about their lives while running interference on personal questions about yourself, allowing them to dip in skin deep, skimming off the top but never getting further. They tell you about themselves, Penelope, their jobs, how they met, and Johnny confides in you about his sketchbook collection, pages upon pages of charcoal and pencil line work, portraits of Simon and Pen covering each page, landscapes, and the occasional cartoon. Your spine eventually starts to wilt, muscles liquifying into goo that can barely hold you upright, and you curl up in the armchair, chin on your palm, listening to the ebb and flow of their voices as they tell you a particular story about how they came to find their current home, a near slapstick comedy about an interaction with the previous owner. Their voices soothe your restless mind, wrap you in a cozy embrace that feels so safe, so comfortable that you can’t fight the languid, siren call of sleep, eyes drooping into darkness, drifting away on their melodies, content and too tired to rationally put together what’s happening. At some point, something covers you up, knit warmth that is tucked in around your shoulders, your feet, a tender touch on your neck and cheek. A whisper of affection soothes the unease that lurks in the background of it all, and you fall into it lazily, farther into the hold of sleep, something your brain and body are desperate for.
When the lights go dim, you don’t even realize, already lost to the sand of slumber.
Around midnight, you wake with a start. Your heart is racing, triple timing in your chest, and you squint in the dark, trying to parse together where you are, what happened.
Oh no. Oh god, did you fall asleep on them? Did you fall asleep in Johnny’s room?
Simon calls your name. He’s settled in a recliner, head turned your direction, mellow light from the little lamp spilling across his features. “Are you alright?” Your mouth is dry, the web of sleep that holds you in suspension finally starting to wane, fuzzy clouds in your head trying to clear without much luck.
“How long was I out?”
“Four hours.”
“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head.
“Wanted to let you sleep. I know you were tired, and Johnny was out almost immediately after you.”
“Th-thanks.” Your back groans, muscle and bone grinding together, stiff from sleeping in a cramped position for hours, and you’re surprisingly unsteady on your feet. Simon’s out of his chair in a second, turning around the end of Johnny’s bed to offer you a hand, his other lightly resting between your shoulder blades.
“Easy.”
“Sorry… just… think ‘m more tired than I realized.” It’s dark, and you’re disorientated, woozy, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, limbs and lids still heavy and desperate to fall back asleep.
“I’ll drive you home.” His keys jingle, and you know you should reject him, refute this presumption, push him off, but you can’t string the right words together in your mind, can’t bring yourself to truculently pull away.
So, you don’t. And to your surprise, your shock, it feels… nice. You let him open the door for you, get you settled, you listen to his music on the way, city flying past outside the window, quiet hour of the night crawling by. You let him help you out of the car when you pull up to the curb, and when he asks if he can walk you up, your rational pugnacity is nowhere to be found.
“This is me.” You gesture to the door, fumbling in your wallet for your keycard.
“How long have you been in the hotel?”
“Oh, not long. Reno just started so…” His head turns, surveilling the hallway. You’re in an end room, far from the elevator but close to the stairs, as requested, and there’s a camera that sits on the ceiling, green dot consistently blinking. He glances at it, then back to you, head tilted.
“Are you safe here?” The world goes cold. Your stomach roils, blood draining from your face, and you try to hold yourself steady, mind turning over a million times. You’re overreacting. He’s just asking in a general sense. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t. Breathe. Deep breath.
“I uh, yeah. It’s got a deadbolt.” Along with a door stop alarm, and a security bar. He steps closer, so close that you can smell him, fresh laundry and musk, something spicy lingering there, something dark and enchanting.
“Are you in trouble, little bunny?” You’re in his shadow, beneath the stretch of a mountain, shielded by it, by a monolith so large it could blot out the sun. It overwhelms you, slows the racing pace of your mind, and you try to sort through the merry go round of feelings that are all trying to push their way out of your mouth.
You’ve never felt this. Never felt this… desire, to entrust someone with your life. Never felt this… attraction, this hold that the two of them have on you.
It makes you want to trust them. Makes you want to lay it all out and beg them to help you. Makes you want to close your eyes and leap, praying they’ll catch you.
It’s wicked. It’s dangerous. It’s a fool’s errand.
It’s unfair.
“No.” You whisper. You can’t look at him, and time slows in the silence, your anxiety piquing. Of course, he would assume something is wrong, after witnessing the panic attack. Don’t read too far into it.
“But you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He’s pragmatic, yet still kind, watching you with intent. It doesn’t allay any of the stress that’s building up the back of your throat and closing it, cutting you off from the oxygen you desperately need.
After an eon, he sighs.
“Okay, sweetheart. You can keep your secrets. For now.” You choke.
“I… I should probably-“ you jerk your head towards the door, half turning away to swipe your keycard.
“Alright.” He moves carefully, dipping low, and you stand immobilized, confused and quivering as his cloth covered mouth presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. It’s like he’s bewitched you, cursed you, and you can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “Thanks for coming tonight.” You’re a deer in headlights, a rabbit in a scope.
“Simon.” His name is the only thing you know right now, and it comes out reedy, almost a squeak.
“Get some rest. We’ll text you tomorrow.” He pushes the door wide, arm snaked behind your shoulders, and when you don’t move, he urges you forward, an encouraging hand on the small of your back. Your feet blindly stumble through the motions, searching for the light switch, for your sanity. “Goodnight, bun.” He hums, and the door clicks shut, leaving you alone, staring at the beige-yellow paint on the wall.
The afternoon trains are packed. It makes your skin crawl, not because you dislike busy or hectic places, but because there are too many eyes. You force your head to stay up, casually scrolling past the faces that are turned every which way, keeping your back to a corner or window as often as possible. You’re not sure you even needed to take this route, the one where you loop around and change trains twice, but… old habits die hard.
You’re lighter today, mentally. It’s in your steps on the stairs, the way you tilt your face up to the sun, how you bounce and bob a little along to the rhythm in your headphones.
You try not to read into it, too much. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the good morning text messages from Johnny and Simon, or the hilarious back and forth between them after Simon sent a god-awful joke to the group chat. It has nothing to do with the heat that spreads through your fingers to toes when you think about Simon last night, kissing your forehead.
You slip inside your apartment, popping your headphones free, glancing at the tape and the door jam, before setting your bag on the counter. You idly sort through some mail you left out the other day. Junk, junk, junk, nothing taxing or important, nothing work related or-
A shadow moves. It flickers against the wall by your bedroom, growing larger, stalking closer to the kitchen, to where you stand, frozen, heart pounding in your ears.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
“Hey there, sugar.” He croons, the thick, Texas accent unmistakable, and you breathe his name in horror.
“Phillip.”
#peaches writes#simple math#ghoap x reader#ghost x soap x reader#soap x reader x ghost#simon riley#john soap mactavish#simon riley x reader#soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#ghost x reader x soap#ghost x reader
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idk if you write for the charas that hasnt been introduced in the anime (but already in the manga)
but if you do can you please, PLEASEE write cockwarming hiromi as he worked? (I’ll do anything for any hiromi content smh)
☆ : hiromi higuruma x fem! reader
⤷ tags : cockwarming, praise, dirty talk, cowgirl, unprotected sex. wc : 0.9k
an. YESSS SURE
“…baby, i’m on a phone call. stay still ‘n wait,” he murmurs against your ear — his breath was warmth, it brushes against your skin and you moan. the coldness of the watch band higuruma wore ghosted against your skin as you tried to stay put.
he sat in his office chair, his pants just barely hanging down by the him, with you having his cock buried in place.
you squirmed and squirmed, gripping onto his knee and only babbles were your righteous response. “hiro, but that’s boring ‘n your phone calls always take f-forever.”
“perhaps,” he chuckles, his voice was low and a whisper — as he was still on the other line with a person, maintaining business. “just wait a little longer for me, alright? you just gotta be a patient girl,” and then he teasingly slides a hand down your thighs, his rings brushing off against your skin. “can you be my patient good girl and warm me up for me?”
“….y-yes.” your poor pathetic of a response was delayed heavily, and seeing you not get your way, he found it so adorable. “okay, fine.”
“good girl,” he coos, planting a kiss near the back of your head. that’s when he pays his attention back towards his phone, clearing his throat and repositioning his tie. “ah, yes hello? excuse me, i apologize for the interruption. but as you were saying..”
you tried to seclude your moans but it was so hard, higuruma’s cock was so thick — veiny and pulsed inside of you as it stood still. you desperately wanted to move but you had to wait.
every few seconds, you’d hear him chuckle at your constant squirming, your tiny whines and babbles departing from your lips.
“uh huh, yes… i see.” he utters in a low voice, a single hand of his grazing against your waist. his touch was so smooth—you leaned back against his tux, and he kissed the inner part of your neck, whispering a soft, “quiet, princess.”
“s-sorry.” you’d whine, such pout forming against your lips, you were so frustrated. you could hardly think straight.
your vision was nearly blurry, and all you could even process was higuruma’s shaft idly inside of you. no thrusts or anything, you grew bored and was tired of waiting so you started to grind against his lap.
he chokes on his words the moment you do this, and his jaw tightens. right in the middle of speaking, he pauses — and you can almost feel the heated glare he’s giving you from behind.
“my um…apologies, can you repeat yourself?” he mutters, going on as if nothing happened.
the pout on your lips never left, about ten long minutes had passed and he was still occupying himself on the phone.
all when he could have been bending you over his work desk and having his very way with you. higuruma was very serious whenever it came to his work.
you felt him stretch over you to reach for his ballpoint pin and he starts to jot things down on his scattered piles of paperwork. mark after mark, your eyes watch his hands. and all you could think of was his lengthy pretty hands fingering you, he was so good with his hands. his fingers…
how pitiful, you felt yourself starting to almost drool just from the thought. higuruma talking you through an orgasm with his fingers, then once he’d finish, he’d tell you to “open wide” stuffing his fingers down your throat so you can taste how nasty you were for him.
he was a simple man, professional in public yet filthy in private.
“we can go over the procedures one more time, if that’s alright with the party.” he replies in a gruff voice, and you’re a mess. all your fantasizing does just makes you more wet — you want him so bad, and he can tell because at this point, you aren’t even trying to stay still.
“hiro, ‘m gonna cum.” you whisper, and you weren’t, but you were so fed up that you were incredibly desperate. higuruma purposely pretends he doesn’t hear you, talking over you actually just to make you whine. “hiromi, please. can’t hold it, i tried..”
once more, he continues to uphold a conversation with his colleagues, smooth tone and all. he chuckles, glancing at you briefly—and that’s when you moan, feeling him start to bounce his thigh just to irk you even more.
but you couldn’t take it anymore, so that’s when you grab his phone, and moan right into the speaker, “hiromi, ‘m cumming.”
and it goes dead silent, you knew you were probably in deep trouble but you didn’t care—you just couldn’t wait, and it made you giggle on how he suddenly stopped talking. it grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
higuruma then sits up, and you let off a gasp at his sudden movements because he pulls out, immediately bending you over the desk. he doesn’t care about the paper documents flying everywhere. “…oh, princess the nerve is beyond me.” he mutters—and you moaned, feeling him make you arch your back with a single push.
and you bite your lip, awaiting for him to go inside. you wanted to play dumb so you say, “what happened?”
“you know what happened.” he mutters, his tone was full of seriousness. you hear the clanks of his belt dangle against his already pulled down pants and you just couldn’t wait.
and then you moan. “but hiro—you’re still on call. hang up the-”
“don’t tell me what to do, princess,” he hushes you, caressing your ass before bringing a mean spank towards your ass. “all you need to worry about is arching that back of yours. you wanna moan and let them hear, then they’ll listen the whole time while i fuck you. so bend over and get loud for me.”
#★vegasbaby.#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fic#higuruma smut#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma hiromi#female reader#anime smut
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to have and to hold
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.
word count: 1.4k
warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!
a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?”
Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.
Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.
“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”
“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.
“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”
“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”
“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.”
“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”
“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”
“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”
—
Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.
Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.
Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach.
When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.
“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.
“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”
Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.
Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.
He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.
“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.
Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.
“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”
“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”
Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.
“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”
He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.
It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.
“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”
By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.
Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.
When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal.
After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.
Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.
When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.
That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck.
“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”
“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”
“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
#to have and to hold#till death do us part collection#chahnniesroom#skz fanfic#skz fluff#skz fic#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#chan x y/n#chan x reader#chan x you#chan fluff#skz imagines#stray kids#chan#bang chan
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“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.”
i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!
Thank you lovely!
cw: mention of kidnapping (more a backdrop than anything)
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words
Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets.
“Hey.”
He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, your cheek and nose are look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand.
“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?”
Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.”
A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.”
“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.”
“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out.
She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else.
Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.”
“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.”
“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that if your face weren’t already so pink it’d be coloring now. “I figured you might need them, so.”
“You were right.”
Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?”
“That’d be great,” he says, relieved.
He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours.
“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!”
“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?”
You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.”
“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.”
“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.”
The tops of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks.
Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm.
“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job.
You straighten immediately. “We were just—”
“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.”
Spencer suspects his face is about as red as yours as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.”
“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest.
He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug.
“This has lipstick on the lid.”
Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.”
“So you started on mine?”
“I sampled.”
“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.”
He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x bau!reader#bau!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic
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10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — TEASER
READ HERE!
in which...
you hate heeseung. you hate his snobby little voice, his stupid little glasses that are too big for him, his nosiness, and his ability to prove anything or anyone wrong easily. you hate hate hate the way you try to avoid him, but somehow he’s always around, and he can’t see how much you hate him. you swear nothing could make you like him, but after you get caught in a sticky situation with him playing your knight in shining armor, you realize that maybe he isn’t so bad after all.
pairing — heeseung x fem!reader
genre — one sided enemies to lovers, highschool au, he falls first she falls harder, oblivious x obvious, tutor x tutoree (kind of), childhood friends (ish because the whole one sided enemies thing) to lovers, long fic
wordcount — teaser is 1005! fic est. 9k-13k words (hopefully not too ambitious)
warnings — profanity, kissing (no suggestive stuff or nsfw), miscommunication, parties/underage drinking, name calling (bitch, whore, stuff like that), food
featuring — lia of itzy, miyeon of g-idle, hyung line of enhypen (sorry maknaes too many people), ocs : sooyun + teachers
disclaimer — i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this just something i do for fun.
release date — hopefully by mid march?
taglist — open! send an ask or comment to be added!
yenqa — watched the movie on the plane and i was kind of obsessed… but this does not follow the movie plot, i just thought the title fit
YOU WATCH AS THE SNOW FALLS SLOWLY TO THE GROUND
A blanket of white has got you and the guests at your house locked in for the night. You weren’t very happy with these strangers staying at your house for the night—In fact, you had just been completely shut down by your dad when you asked him to kick them out. It was obvious why he did that, but this definitely had to be your least favorite christmas out of the eight you had been through.
You snap out of your thoughts, continuing to eat whatever you had left on your plate, hesitating when you saw the amount of vegetables still left.
“Mom! I’m full.” You try to hide your plate from her, showing her instead a pout with a hand on your stomach.
It didn’t work—obviously, so you were stuck at the table, a frown on your face as you forced in the greens. Across from you, a boy your age, who didn’t seem to mind, he almost looked like he was enjoying it.
That’s impossible though, no one likes vegetables. Maybe he was doing it so Santa would get him an extra special gift?
You grumble when he finishes his place, showcasing his plate that had been licked clean to his mom. He stared at you for a second looking down at your—full plate then looking back at his mom, she said “Great job Heeseung!”. He returns his plate to the table with a smile.
Stabbing your fork back into your food, you stuff it into your face, hoping that you would enjoy it as much as Heeseung did. Again, it didn’t work, and the bitter taste returned to your mouth.
After what felt like hours of groaning and complaining, you had taken the last bite of your food, a proud smirk on your face when you made eye contact with the boy from earlier, who only smiled at you in return.
Throwing away your plastic plate, you realized that now it was present time, and Santa just had to reward you for your good deeds.
Rushing over to the tree, you spot everyone gathered around the area, opening their presents. You run to your present, recognizing the wrapping paper from last year. Looking at your mom for approval, she nods and you tear apart the paper, lifting up the box inside.
You squeal when you see the picture, you had been begging your mom for weeks for a Lego set, specifically if it was minecraft themed. And Santa had gotten you just that. You hug the box, squeezing it. You exclaim a loud “Thank you Santa!” before running up to your room to assemble the build.
Reading the directions, you start the house, quickly getting confused on how it isn’t looking like how it does in the picture.
“I think that’s the wrong piece.” A voice says, you whip your head around to see the same boy who sat across from you.
“Who are you?” Your eyebrows furrow at the sight, confused on why those were the first words he said instead of “Hi!” or something.
“My name’s Heeseung—Um, my mom told me to come upstairs and said we should be friends. Do you want to be friends?”
You huff, “I’m Y/n. Also no, I don’t want to be friends, you’re mean.” You force your legos together, frustrated already with the pieces. You continue to reread the directions, pushing—what you think are—the exact legos to the board. But it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit. Maybe if you push it harder?
“Oh—okay.” You jump slightly, too focused to realize how he's been watching you for the past few minutes. “Do you need some help?”
Yes, you need help. But did you want to accept his help? . This was your christmas gift from Santa, you shouldn’t have to share.
Glancing at the picture then to the building that had looked like an abstract rendition of it, you let out a sigh. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? “Yeah, I guess.”
He takes a seat on the carpet next to you, focusing hard on the directions before breaking off the wrong pieces, reassembling it so you’ll be on the right track.
“Does this go here, do you think?” “No, it goes here.” That was a summary of what the conversation was between you, and somehow you were always the one asking the question. Sighing, you lean back, taking a short stretch break before starting again.
You’re shocked at his speed and efficiency, it almost seems like he’s always a step ahead of you. Geez does this guy ever slow down?
The roles are quickly switched as you are sitting watching him instead. Rummaging through each box only for his eyes to lighten up one he finds the right one. You watch him for a while, getting a break that you very much needed.
You hope that he waits for you to finish it, or that he doesn’t completely do it all by himself because again, it’s your Christmas gift, and he wouldn’t do that, right?
Not right, because apparently he’s a machine—he finishes the build. He stands up, pushes his stupid glasses up also and smiles at you, heading to the door. You think he’s going to say something else like “Sorry for taking away your present!” instead, he thanks you for sharing and happily skipping away.
Heeseung. Even his name infuriates you. He was very unpredictable and you hated that. Why did he just do that? He’s so rude. People don’t make sense—especially boys, they have cooties.
Your head was filled with calling him the rudest things you could think of—You even said a few curse words.
Though later you realized that you probably would never see him again, you were ecstatic, so ecstatic you had disassembled your legos just to rebuild it, to completely forget about your bad experience with the boy.
Only two weeks later were you disappointed to see that same boy, sitting across from you during dinner once again.
perm taglist — @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss
yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
#kflixnet#k-labels#k-films#enhablr#10 things i hate about you — yenqa 🌷#heeseung x y/n#heeseung x reader#heeseung fic#heeseung headcanons#heeseung angst#heeseung drabble#heeseung scenarios#heeseung fanfic#heeseung imagines#heeseung au#heeseung fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen fic#enhypen au#enhypen fics#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x yn#enhypen imagines#enhypen social media au#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen fake texts#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fanfic
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