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bluejutdae · 2 months

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best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Chan x you

genre: romance, friends to lovers

warnings: asshole guy who thinks sex is required in exchange of a dinner

“I’m sorry but I really have to go, it’s a family emergency. But I’ll call you.” This guy is really pissing you off, but he’s tall and pretty muscular and the vibes you got from him during the (luckily short) date make you uncomfortable.

“Are you really using this lazy excuse? I invited you to dinner, I’m gonna pay, so the least you could do is to put it out there!” You blink in disbelief, he really is a creepy guy. Chan is on his way though, so the thought comforts you a little. You reach into your bag and grab a few bills and, as you place them on the table, you give the guy a sarcastic smile. “I can pay for my own dinner.”

Grabbing your jacket you turn your back to him, ready to leave, but the asshole grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him. You don’t have the time to do anything because a hand is suddenly around the guy’s wrist like a vice.

“Let her go immediately or I’m going to break your arm.” You’ve never heard Chan talking with such ice in his voice and a shiver runs along your spine.

“Fuck you both. I should have known you were a frigid bitch!” the guy lets you go and raises his free hand in surrender. Before letting him go, Chan looks at you for the first time since his arrival. “Are you okay?” You nod, confused. You thought your crush for Chan was long gone, but if the butterflies in your stomach are any indication, your crush is alive and burning.

Not even 5 minutes later, in a cab with Chan sitting next to you, you catch the end of your best friend’s sentence: “…can’t believe that asshole!”

“You know what’s funny? He called me a ‘frigid bitch’. Isn’t that a bizarre insult? What does it even mean?” Now that you’re with Chan, you’re calm and not scared anymore.

You hear him laughing, shaking his head. “Like anything that came out of his mouth made any sense… but really, are you okay?” You nod again. You’re not scared, you’re not uncomfortable, but something in your chest trembles at the idea of parting with Chan. “Can you stay over tonight?”, you ask quietly.

When you close the door, the atmosphere is uncommonly quiet and tense. Did you make Chan uncomfortable? Did he have other plans? Is he annoyed with you for always needing him? As all those thoughts run across your head, he slips out of his shoes and goes straight to the kitchen, feeling at home in your small apartment. “Can I steal some ramen? I didn’t have the time to eat a proper dinner.” In lieu of an affirmative answer, you wash your hands and start preparing a quick dinner for Chan. “I’m sorry I hijacked your night, Channie.”

“What are you talking about? My plans involved ramen at the dorms and hearing Hyunjin and Jisung screaming against the tv. They started a new drama”, he explains watching you moving around the kitchen. He loves to look at you while you’re busy, while you’re too occupied with something else to notice him studying you, watching you with love in his eyes. Tonight was once again proof you only saw him as a friend and nothing more: otherwise you wouldn’t have gone on a date, right?

Wrong.

You spent ages crushing over him, but once you were sure he felt nothing for you, you tried (in vain, apparently) to get over him.

You place a steaming bowl of food in front of him and sit at the table, looking at him.

“No more lame dates. No, you know what? No more dates.”

“You let a couple of bad guys ruin your search for true love?”

Well, he’s not gonna complain, but he also doesn’t want a bad experience to scar your hopes for romance. “Nah, they’re not worth it. My perfect match is not interested in me anyway.”

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said something like that, now he’s gonna ask questions.

“Perfect march, uh?”

You wave your hand, almost slapping away the topic. “Eat your food, Chan.”

“I thought you told me everything,” he pouts and you’re a weak weak person, how can you be tough in front of his pout?

“There is someone I like, I liked him for a while but it’s unreciprocated, so there’s no point in talking about him.”

“Then he’s dumb. Tell me his name?”

“You kinda know him, so I’d rather not… you know, don’t wanna make it weird.” Chan looks at you with a weird something in his eyes you can’t really understand, but for the sake of your secret you let it slide.

“Movie?”

The movie has been on for at least an hour but neither of you is really watching it. You’re cuddled on the couch, Chan’s head on your lap and your fingers slowly playing with his hair. It’s one of his favorite cuddling positions, and you love it cause you have the chance to watch him without being noticed.

“I wish you’d tell me who he is.”

You freeze in surprise, fingers stilling on his head.

“Chan…”

“No wait, listen for a second.” He sits now, and bites his lip. “We’ve always told pretty much everything, but there are things I haven’t told you either. So I will tell you something secret about me if you tell me who he is.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because!”

He’s quick to get on his feet, walking on the small carpet in front of the tv. “Because I wanna know who’s this dumb guy who is not in love with you. What’s not to love? He’s lucky enough you are interested in him, something I’d give an arm for, and he’s not on his knees worshiping you?” He then freezes, like something hit him and trains his eyes on the floor. “Forget what I said”.

What did he say? Are you drunk and incapable of understanding or Chan just said he’d give an arm to have you interested in him? Something swells into your chest and you decide to be bold for once.

“Do you like me, Chan?”

He stills his pacing, gaze still trained to the floor, and nods carefully.

“It’s you.”

“Mh?”

“The guy I like, it’s you.”

He’s gonna have a sore neck tomorrow, considering the speed in which he raises his head.

“Me?” You nod, with a hopeful smile on your lips.

“I was convinced you felt nothing for me…”

You don’t know which one of you moved first, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you’re kissing, now. You have his wet, soft and pillowy lips on yours, his tongue asking to be let in your mouth, your hands holding the other tight, almost to make sure this is real and you’re not going to vanish any seconds now.

“We’re such a clichè” he says on your lips, laughing cutely.

“Maybe. But I like it anyway.”

If being a clichè is what brought you two finally together, then so be it.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #skz Smau #skz fake texts #stray kids smau #stray kids fake texts #chan scenarios #chan fanfic #Thiana writes Chan

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popamolly · 26 days

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‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL!’ ALASTOR

summary. In the midst of a grand party, a sudden interruption occurs as uniformed officers question Madam Duvalier about the disappearance of their former chauffeur, Charles Ray. Tensions rise as suspicions linger, but Madam Duvalier swiftly redirects attention with her charm. Meanwhile, you stands alone, burdened by secrets and uncertainties, with only Alastor offering a silent comfort that belies darker truths lurking beneath the surface.

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, eventual smut, not a happy ending, barely edited

In the soft light of early morning, the world seemed to slow down as you and Alastor found yourselves immersed in the warmth of a bath together. The steam rose around you, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere as you leaned back against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

Alastor's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he placed gentle kisses along your shoulder, each touch sending a ripple of warmth through your body. The water lapped gently against your skin, soothing away any lingering traces of tension from the night before.

"Let's strike a deal," Alastor whispered against your skin, his breath teasing your ear. "I'll court you properly, and all you have to do is accept me as I am."

Your fingers entwined with his, silently affirming your love and connection. "Whether you're a radio host or not, I've accepted you, Alastor," you murmured, meeting his gaze with a tender smile. "Nothing can change that."

"Really?" Alastor wanted desperately to believe your words, holding onto hope as if it were precious. "Once we make a deal, it's set in stone."

"I promise I won't break it," you assured him, your hands trailing down his chest absentmindedly.

"Is that so?" Alastor tilted his head in amusement, a grin playing on his lips as he observed you. "Well, I suppose I'll have no choice but to trust you."

Your laughter filled the air briefly before silence settled in, your mind consumed by worries. This was your second night escaping to be with Alastor, knowing your mother was seething with anger back home. Facing her wrath seemed daunting, especially with the ball happening today. How would you tell her about your love for someone she wouldn't approve of?

"A penny for your thoughts?" Alastor's voice broke through your thoughts, the water around you both still as you met his gaze, nerves evident on your face.

"I'm thinking about my mother," you confessed with a sigh. "She wants me to marry someone she picks, either an older wealthy man or a young arrogant one."

"The party tonight is solely to find me a match she approves of," you added with a frown. "How do I even begin to talk to her about us?"

Alastor's eye twitched slightly in annoyance at a woman he hadn't even met yet. "She's standing in the way of your happiness," he noted. "How cruel of her."

"But perhaps," you muttered, "She only wants what's best for me."

"A woman like her won't be satisfied with her daughter marrying someone she deems insignificant," Alastor's words cut through the air, casting a shadow on your mother's intentions. "You might have to prepare for the worst. Your mother might not prioritize your happiness, whereas I want to ensure it," he continued, his finger trailing along your chin. "In the end, you may have to make a choice."

"Why should I have to choose? Why must I be forced into such a position?" You looked up at Alastor, frustration and confusion evident in your voice.

Alastor's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I know it's not fair, my dear," he said gently, reaching out to caress your cheek. "But sometimes, life presents us with difficult choices."

"I don't want to lose you," you admitted, fear creeping into your words.

Alastor's gaze held yours firmly. "And you won't," he vowed. "No matter what happens, I'll stand by your side."

You leaned into his touch, finding solace in his unwavering support. "I just wish things weren't so complicated," you whispered.

"It would be less rewarding if it was easy," Alastor murmured, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "But we'll face this together, whatever may come."

As the morning light filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the bath, you shared quiet moments of affection and closeness, basking in the love that enveloped you both. In that serene morning embrace, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor each precious second together, grateful for the bond that united your hearts.

Alastor's resolve began to waver, his feelings for you becoming undeniable. Seeing you distressed tore at him in ways he couldn't explain. Whoever dared to oppose your relationship with him would simply have to die, for your happiness was now intricately intertwined with his own.

With a heavy heart but a newfound determination, Alastor made a silent vow to protect you at all costs, even if it meant defying the expectations of society or facing dire consequences, because suddenly he didn't care about himself anymore now that you were in his life— in his arms. Love had a way of reshaping priorities, and in that moment, Alastor realized that he would go to great lengths to ensure your happiness, even if it meant challenging the very fabric of the world around you.

The first light of morning painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as Alastor escorted you back to your home. The tranquility of the night gave way to the bustling streets, a stark reminder of the reality awaiting both of you.

As you approached your residence, a sense of unease settled over you. Your mother's reaction was unpredictable, especially after your absence throughout the night. Alastor tightened his grip slightly, offering silent reassurance as you prepared to face the inevitable.

The moment you stepped through the front door, your mother rushed out to meet you, her face etched with worry and anger. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" Her words tumbled out in a mix of relief and frustration.

You tried to explain, but her gaze fell upon Alastor, her expression hardening. "And who is this?" she demanded, her tone laced with disapproval.

Alastor stepped forward, his demeanor calm yet resolute. "I am Alastor," he introduced himself, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I apologize for any concern caused. I assure you, my intentions are honorable."

Your mother's eyes narrowed with a humorless laugh as she studied Alastor, her skepticism palpable. "Stealing my daughter for nighttime rendezvous is far from honorable. If anything, it's a dishonor to my family and yours, whoever your family may be. If you truly care for my daughter, then you would court her properly and salvage whatever dignity she has left."

"He intends to, mother," you spoke up, your gaze challenging hers.

"Well, I should hope so," your mother replied, her gaze assessing Alastor's outfit. "If he intends to impress me, then he is already failing miserably. Tell me, what is your family name?"

"I have no family name," Alastor answered honestly.

"Oh?" Your mother glanced at you before returning her gaze to Alastor, her tone condescending. "So an orphan with no wealth. I assume you are of middle class, if not lower. What job do you have?"

"I am a radio show host-" Alastor began, but your mother's laughter cut him off.

Her lack of politeness made your blood boil, and you struggled to maintain composure. Realizing her rudeness, she covered her mouth with a shake of her head. "Excuse me, but I am wasting my time even conversing with you, Alastor."

"Mother-!" you began to argue, but her sharp voice cut you off.

"You will leave my house at once and never speak to my daughter again, is that understood?" she told Alastor, her tone final and cold.

Alastor's response was a bone-chilling smile as he bowed slightly. "Understood," he replied before turning to leave.

"Alastor, wait, I will come with you," you started to say, but his warm touch on your arm stopped you in your tracks.

"I will see you tonight, darling. It seems your mother needs some convincing that I am the right man for you," Alastor said softly, leaning down to place a lingering kiss on your knuckles. "Until tonight."

"Alastor..." The word hung in the air, but he was already gone, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and the weight of uncertainty. The one thing you seemed to have control over in your life was slipping away from your fingers, and your mother was to blame. This was all because of her.

You were tired of the glitz and glamour, tired of always being the sweet, obedient Duvalier without a thought to your own desires. It was frustrating and suffocating. Alastor had been the breath of fresh air you'd been wanting, needing in your life. Without him, you were sure you'd snap with insanity. He brought passion, excitement, and genuine love into your world, something your mother seemed incapable of understanding. Your mother's words replayed in your mind, her insistence on societal norms and status crushing your spirit. The sting of her words lingered, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Alastor's touch. You couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not after everything you'd shared.

"I can't believe you!" You turned around to face your mother, your emotions spilling over as you finally lashed out that built upon anger you've been holding back, "How could you treat him that way?"

"I did what was necessary," your mother replied calmly, not meeting your gaze as she switched her cane from her right hand to her left.

"Necessary? You just sent away the man I love!" Your voice cracked with emotion.

"He was not suitable," your mother insisted, her tone firm.

"Suitable? What does that even mean to you? Money? Status? " Your frustration bubbled over, hands balling into fists at your sides. "Do you even care about my happiness?"

"Of course, I do," your mother retorted, her facade faltering for a moment.

"Then why can't you see that Alastor makes me happy?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded with her.

"He is not from our world, dear," your mother said softly, her tone tinged with slight regret but she remained composed.

"But he cares for me, Mother. Isn't that what truly matters?" You wiped away a tear, your heart heavy with disappointment.

"I want what's best for you," your mother replied.

"And I want to be with Alastor," you countered, your resolve unwavering. The tension hung thick in the air, both of you standing firm in your beliefs. It was a battle between tradition and love, expectations and desires, "Just because you failed at love doesn't mean I should follow in your footsteps."

Just as those harsh words left your mouth, your mother's hand collided with your cheek. The stinging imprint left on your face hardly matched the weight of your heavy heart as you slowly brought your hand to your cheek, the last hopefulness you held out for your mother shattering to a million pieces.

Your mother clears her throat, turning to look at the head maid Corrine with a small wavering smile, "Corrine, see to it that my daughter gets settled for the day and prepared for the night ahead. We need her looking her best, don't we?"

Your mother's request felt like a final blow, leaving you feeling helpless and trapped in a world where your desires were constantly overshadowed by expectations and appearances.

As Corrine led you upstairs, her touch was gentle but her eyes reflected a deep understanding of your pain. The tears streaming down your cheeks were a silent testament to the turmoil within you, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat.

In your room, as Corrine helped you settle in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation. The upcoming evening, with its planned festivities and forced smiles, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

As you gazed out of the window, watching the world pass by, a spark of determination flickered within you. You may have been dealt a harsh hand, but you refused to let it break you completely. Tonight, amidst the glittering party, you would find a way to assert your own voice and reclaim a measure of control over your life once and for all- you wanted to be with Alastor and nothing was going to stand in your way. Not even your mother.

As the hours passed and evening approached, the grandeur of the ball loomed larger in your mind. Despite your mother's expectations and demands, you found solace in the routine of getting ready for the event.

The maids fluttered around you, their expert hands tending to every detail of your appearance. A dress was selected, jewels were carefully chosen, and hair was styled to perfection. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity, your mind was elsewhere.

Alastor consumed your thoughts, his absence a heavy presence in the midst of preparations. Would he show up tonight? The hope was mingled with uncertainty, creating a tumultuous storm of emotions within you.

Ignoring your mother's attempts at conversation throughout the day, you focused on the vision of Alastor standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and love. The idea of him breaking through the barriers of societal expectations to be with you filled you with a sense of longing and anticipation.

As the final touches were made to your appearance, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The image that stared back at you was poised and elegant, yet underneath the facade was a woman ready to challenge the norms and embrace her own happiness.

With a deep breath, you made your way downstairs to join the festivities, your heart fluttering with both excitement. Tonight would be a turning point, a chance to assert your desires and perhaps, just perhaps, find the courage to defy expectations for the one you loved.

Throughout the evening, various suitors approached you, each with their own attempts to court you and earn the privilege of a dance. They showered you with compliments, asked about your interests, and tried to charm you with their status.

You remained polite, engaging in light conversation and accepting their requests to dance. One suitor, a young nobleman with a charming smile, engaged in conversation about your family's estate and the upcoming social events. Another, a dashing gentleman with impeccable manners, complimented your gown and expressed admiration for your poise on the dance floor.

As the night progressed, the constant stream of suitors became a blur, their words blending into a symphony of polite gestures and formalities. Despite their efforts, none of them could capture your full attention, for your heart belonged to Alastor.

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, all the while longing for the moment when Alastor would make his grand entrance and sweep you away from the pretense and formality of the ball. His presence was the missing piece, the one that would make the evening truly memorable and meaningful.

As you stood by the refreshment table, trying to ease your dizzy mind from all the twirling and socializing, a familiar voice sent a jolt of excitement through you.

"May I have this dance?" Alastor's voice, warm and familiar, reached your ears from behind. Turning around, your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yes, of course," you replied, trying to contain the urge to tackle him in a hug. Instead, you extended your hand, which he took with a gentle grasp, leading you to the dance floor.

You moved together in rhythm to the music, the world around you fading into the background. It was just the two of you, lost in the moment, lost in each other's eyes. The tension and formality of the evening melted away, replaced by a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Alastor's presence was like a soothing balm to your soul, grounding you amidst the whirlwind of the ball. With each step and turn, you felt a sense of connection and understanding that transcended words.

As the dance came to an end, Alastor held you close, his gaze filled with affection and a hint of mischief. "I told you I would see you tonight, darling," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips.

You couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a surge of happiness and contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by the music and the magic of the ball, you knew that everything would be alright as long as you had Alastor by your side.

"I never doubted you," you replied softly, your gaze locked with Alastor's. In that moment, all your worries faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of his presence.

As the music and laughter filled the ballroom, a slight tension rippled through the crowd as a group of uniformed officers made an unexpected entrance. Your eyebrows furrowed with worry as you watched them escort your mother into the parlor, their expressions curious and attentive rather than stern.

Sensing something unusual, you quickly excused yourself from Alastor as you made your way through the crowd of hushed whispers. Anxiety gnawed at your stomach as you followed the men into the parlor, where your mother stood with a slightly puzzled expression.

"What's going on?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

The leader of the group stepped forward, his tone respectful but probing. "Madam Duvalier, we're here to ask you a few questions regarding the recent disappearance of Charles Ray, your former chauffeur," he explained, his words causing a murmur of surprise among the gathered guests.

"Of all times to show up, you do it at the biggest party I've hosted to date," Your mother's tone wavered between annoyance and mild relief, her eyes betraying a flicker of apprehension. "Very well, I'll do my best to assist you," she replied, her voice composed despite the tension in the room.

"Mister Charles Ray was last seen at his job post according to your servants but his family has not seen nor made contact with him since yesterday night," the Sheriff continued, his tone grave. "His sudden disappearance has raised concerns."

"Well, if I had a sound mind, I would have fired him, as I haven't seen him for the past few days. I assumed he had a family emergency to attend to, or at least it better have been a family emergency if he left without informing me," Your mother explained, her frustration evident. "Wherever he is, you won't find him here."

The officer nodded and turned to you, "Any comments to add, Ms. Duvalier?"

You felt a pang of unease at being dragged into the situation, the weight of the questioning casting a shadow over the festive evening. "Mr. Ray escorted me somewhere only the night before," you admitted honestly. "But after an hour or so, we parted ways. That was the last I saw him."

"And where was this place?" The officer pressed, his gaze scrutinizing.

"My daughter will answer no more questions without a lawyer present," Your mother intervened firmly, her grip on your arm conveying a silent urgency to stop speaking.

"Corrine, please see them out," Your mother instructed the maid, her voice masking the underlying tension. "I will have no more interruptions on this happy day."

As Corrine escorted the officers out, you couldn't shake off the sense of unease that lingered in the air. The officers' suspicion was palpable, their eyes lingering on you with an unspoken question.

"We will speak of this later," your mother whispered to you, her tone cryptic yet filled with a sense of urgency. With a practiced smile, she turned toward the crowded guests, her charming aura masking the underlying tension. "Let's not let this unfortunate incident dampen our spirits. Shall we return to the ballroom and continue the festivities?"

The guests, eager to move past the momentary disruption, followed your mother's lead, their chatter and laughter gradually filling the air once again. You stood alone in the parlor, the gravity of the situation settling in as you exchanged a look with Alastor who approached you, his presence a welcome comfort despite the weight of the situation. His hand on your shoulder was a silent reassurance, but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling you felt from his oddly comforting touch, a tiny voice in the back of your mind yelling something that you couldn't quite make out.

Alastor's gaze held a mix of understanding and caution, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate balance between truth and deception. For it was only he who knew the truth, because it was he who buried Mr.Ray ray six feet under.

You watched the guests return to the ballroom, the facade of the happy occasion seemed to crack, revealing the underlying tension and secrets that lurked beneath the surface. You knew that the night would never be the same, that the mystery of Mr. Ray's disappearance would haunt you until the truth was uncovered.

But for now, you plastered on a smile and rejoined the festivities with Alastor, knowing that behind the masks and smiles, lies and secrets danced in the shadows, waiting to be exposed.

── ꒰ ‧˚ author’s note ｡˚ ꒱ Sorry this took so long to come out, whoopsie. but to make it up to you; this story will be updated EVERY SATURDAY from now on. That being said, you will be getting another chapter this Saturday :) thank you for the constant love and support. like, comments, and reblog are appreciated.

── ꒰ ‧˚ story taglist ｡˚ ꒱

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bkgml · 10 months

Text

“i want you” part 2!!

part 1

katsuki wakes up late.

feeling his girl wrapped in his arms, he peels open his swollen eyes.

you’re still asleep, still peaceful. it’s as if you have no idea what happened the night before.

and he wants you to stay this peaceful. even if it’s just for awhile longer.

“hey man, you okay?” kirishima asks as katsuki exits his bedroom.

katsuki looks awful, and he knows it.

“memory’s back.” he mumbles, grabbing the coffee pot from kirishimas hand.

he feels a hand patting his back.

“howd she take it?”

katsuki answers with nothing but a sigh, heavy with sorrow.

“i’m sorry.” kirishima says.

“i don’t know what to do.” katsuki whispers.

he can feel tears in his eyes but he refuses to let them fall.

“go see her. enjoy the last moments you have with her.” kirishima responds.

katsuki nods slowly.

on shaky legs, he inches towards his bedroom.

he opens the door and you’re still sleeping soundly.

he inhales deeply before shutting the door and taking one last look at kirishima. kirishima sends an awkward wave and a smile his way while watching the door close.

katsuki turns to you and watches you stir slightly as he climbs into bed.

wrapping his warm arms around your waist and pulling the blanket higher on your bodies, kisses your face softly before finally taking a deep inhale of your hair and falling asleep.

“why is this happening? we love each other isn’t that enough for them?!” your voice, muffled and filled with anguish reaches katsuki’s ears behind the closed doors.

he frowns, burying himself deeper into the comfort of your scent on his sheets.

“i know. the commission does what they want though. they can’t have the number 2 heroes girl go missing, then no civilians will feel safe.” kirishima reasons.

“he keeps me safe! don’t they have any trust in him?! if they trust him enough to do his job then they can stay the fuck out of my business!” you yell and katsuki hears your voice break.

jumping out of bed and opening his door he sees you crying with your face in your hands and kirishima awkwardly standing to the side.

katsuki engulfs you in his arms and you fist his shirt.

“don’t cry, sweetness. they’re not worth it.” he says, rubbing your back.

“you’re worth it. we’re worth it katsuki, don’t you get that?” you look up at him with furrowed brows.

he threads his fingers through your hair and looks at you softly.

“of course i get that.” he says, kissing your forehead.

you tuck your face into his chest and sob quietly.

kirishima paces the room in distress.

“i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how to help you guys.”

you and katsuki look up from your spot on the couch, you in his lap and his arms caging you in.

katsuki hears a small whimper of defeat from beside him and he shushes you, pressing small kisses to your face.

you look to him, tears filling your eyes.

“are you going to kick me out?” you whisper, hand clutching his shirt.

“don’t worry about that right now. we’re going to fix this i promise.” he says, reaching his hand behind your head and pulling you closer to him.

the three of you spend the day inside, ordering food and discussing plans to propose a deal with the commission.

katsuki looks over at you, eyes drooping and your face resting in the palm of your hand.

he reaches for your thigh and you perk up a little, eyes meeting his.

“go take a nap, okay? i’ll be right here when you wake up.” he assures you.

you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you promise?” you ask meekly, hand reaching out for his.

he squeezes your hand and thigh in affirmation.

pressing his forehead to your temple, he nods against your head.

“go sleep.” he says softly.

“yeah yn, you deserve a good rest right now.” kiri chimes in with a smile.

you nod and hug katsuki before walking to his bedroom and sending a wave to the two of them.

the men continue talking and you fall asleep quickly in katsuki’s bed.

you open your eyes and look to the clock, 4:00am.

you smile as you feel katsuki’s arms tighten around your waist.

turning in his grip, you admire his peaceful face.

“i love you more than anything.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose.

peeling your eyes open, you admire the chirps of birds outside katsuki’s open window.

6:30am.

you don’t feel katsuki beside you so you stretch a little before swinging your legs over the bed and walking towards the door.

as you open it, you hear the lack of chatter between the two men and see the empty apartment.

“…kats?” you call into the open air.

“katsuki??” you say walking into the empty kitchen and pacing.

“katsuki? kirishima?” you call more urgently, practically running into the living room.

“kats?!” you call, voice breaking.

you’re panting now, hyperventilating. he wouldn’t leave you like this. not this way.

“baby?? hey. i heard you calling for me.” katsuki says, jogging into his living room.

you whine, running to him.

“katsuki.” you whimper, jumping into his arms, limbs wrapped around him tightly.

“hey. hey. what’s wrong?” he soothes, eyes and hands running over your body to check if anything’s physically wrong.

“where were you?” you sputter.

“i thought you left me again. you promised you’d be at the table when i woke up.” you cry, pressing grateful kisses over his face between your words.

he walks you over to the couch, sitting with you in his lap.

“i’m sorry, sweetness. i had to pee. kirishima went to get us breakfast.” he says, running his hands over your arms.

“i thought-“ you hiccup.

“i thought you left me. i’m being so irrational.” you says through tears.

“i’m not leaving you. never again. i promise.” he says, his own eyes a little teary.

he kisses you sweetly until your tears stop.

“do you wanna take a shower before kirishima gets back?” he says softly against your lips.

you nod in reply and he takes you to the shower. where he shampoos your head for you and drags a loofa over your skin, pressing kisses over your skin in the process.

by the time the two of you are done, freshly cleaned and in new clothes. kirishima has breakfast laid out for the three of you.

“hey guys. let’s eat!” he says cheerily, sitting down and digging in.

the three of you eat together, finally laughing just like old times.

after you finished eating, you all joined together to wash, dry and put away the dishes, still laughing.

“should we watch tv?” kirishima asks and katsuki nods, the two of them starting to walk to the living room.

you stand still, confused.

“but what about making a plan for the commission?” you ask.

they turn back to look at you.

katsuki reaching his hand out and kirishima grinning.

“we made the plan before bed last night.” kirishima says, grin never faltering.

you hesitate, confused. but eventually take katsuki’s hand anyway. watching tv with them until sundown.

“you’re tired.” katsuki says, watching you stifle a yawn.

you shake your head in protest but lean forward to rest your head on his chest anyways.

you yawn again and he grins.

“sleepy girl.” he teases.

“no… no i’m not.” you mumble sleepily.

he pats your arms before standing, forcing your head to fall back onto the couch.

you groan, trying to get comfortable again.

“come on. kirishimas already asleep. let’s go sleep.” he says, soothing your protests and lifting you over his shoulder.

you look to your red headed friend and seeing that he is-in fact asleep.

katsuki pushes kirishimas head until his falls onto the other end of the couch, allowing him to lie down with only the slightest bit of uncomfortableness.

“night kiri.” you say slowly, tiredly. as you watch over him from your spot on katsuki’s shoulder.

“alright. there you go.” katsuki says, placing you down on his bed. the bed that’s been your home for the last three days.

“come.” you whine, making the slightest grabby hands at him.

he laughs, climbing into bed with you.

you shuffle close to him and wrap yourself completely around him. giving him no chance of escape. not that he wants to, he’s perfectly happy in the prison of your warm limbs.

“missed you.” you say quietly, tracing his face with your finger. as gently as you can, following the curve of his nose and lips, his cheekbones and brushing up his hair to see his cute forehead.

“missed your face.” you whisper, eyes meeting his.

he looks perfectly content.

“missed you too, sweets. you and your face.”

you hum, tucking your face into his neck to place warm kisses to his collarbones and allowing your hand to slip under his shirt to trace his chest and his abs.

“are you nervous about tomorrow..?” you ask, eyes refusing to meet his.

he brings his own hand up his sweater that you’re wearing to trace your spine slowly, the rhythm making your eyes flutter closed.

“no. me and kirishima made a great plan. it’s gonna work.” he says firmly, hoping to convince you.

you release a shaky breath. worry evident in your tone you ask,

“but what if it doesn’t?”

“hey guys! i didn’t hear you go to bed last night.” kirishima says, greeting the two of you with a fresh pot of coffee.

“yeah? that’s cause you were conked out before 8.” katsuki retorts and you giggle.

kirishima laughs too and pours three cups of coffee for the three of you to enjoy.

“alright guys. todays the day.” kirishima announces.

katsuki nods, taking a sip from his mug. and you tap your fingers on your own mug.

“so why don’t i know of this plan?” you ask, finger tracing the rim before you take a sip.

the two men look at each other.

“cause i like teasin you. making you nervous.” katsuki grins, mischievously.

you groan. glaring at him.

“it’s working a little too well. don’t i need to do anything to prepare? anything i can help with?” you say.

“you have to go back to your apartment and get dressed in clothes other than mine.” katsuki replies, pinching the baggy arm of his sweatshirt your body.

you laugh but a question plagues your mind.

“you aren’t gonna come with me..?” you ask.

he cups your face and you lean into his hand.

“the press would be broadcasting a sighting of the two of you before we’d get a chance to even talk to the commission.” kirishima answers, face apologetic.

you huff but you understand.

“you’re gonna meet us at the commissions office at noon, okay?” katsuki says as he bids you farewell at the door.

you nod. his arms are around your waist and you don’t want to leave them. you know it’s silly, but you just got him back. you don’t want to risk never getting held by him like this again.

“promise this plans going to work.” you say, holding out your pinky as a silent request.

he rolls his eyes before linking his pinky with yours.

“so childish.” he says.

you step onto your tippy toes and press your lips to his as a farewell.

you press all your emotions into him while your lips move together slowly.

“noon.” you confirm as you pull away.

he nods, releasing his arms from around you.

“bye kirishima.” you say, hugging him right.

“bye yn. see you there.” he replies.

you step out the door and begin your walk to your apartment.

*incoming call from ‘katsu’*

“hi, suki. i’m walking into my apartment building right now.” you said calmly.

“have you seen the news??” he asks, a little panicked.

your brows pull together in confusion, your step pattern faltering slightly.

“…no, why?”

your phone dings as a new message comes in.

10:14am

katsu: ARTICLE: pro hero dynamites ex girlfriend last seen wearing men’s clothing while exiting his apartment building. have the two come together once more?

“shit.” you say, palm coming to cover your mouth.

“what does this mean, will the commission still meet with us?” you ask nervously.

“i hope so. just focus on getting there, okay?” he replies and the two of you say your goodbyes and hang up.

standing outside the commissions office, you feel dread creeping up the back of your neck.

“we’re gonna be okay.” katsuki assures you.

“yeah yn, our plan is gonna work.” kiri chimes in.

the three of you walk into the building together and you grab katsuki’s hand.

as he looks at you, he feels the need to protect you and shield you from these people.

you feel his grip tighten on your hand and you smile up at him with an unsure look on your face.

“don’t show them you’re scared.” he whispers lowly to you.

you nod in reply and straighten your back a little more, lift your chin a little higher.

you all walk through the corridors and your head goes fuzzy, you know you see katsuki talking to the receptionist and you know you watch as the commission greets you all coldly but it’s like you’re not even there at all.

you stand in that office across from the conference table of people for hours as katsuki and kirishima argue with them.

finally, katsuki is fed up and slams his fist on the table, silencing everyone.

you come out of your trance then and hear the quiet murmurs of the commission and katsuki’s heavy breathing.

“if you people don’t get your shit together and stay the fuck out of my business. i’m quitting.”

you gasp, eyes flying towards him in protest but he puts his hand up to shush you.

you watch as the commission attempts to mask their shock and play it off.

“please. you wouldn’t quit. and besides, even if you did we still have plenty of hero’s. the world doesn’t need dynamite.” someone retorts.

you feel white hot anger bubbling up through your veins but katsuki and kirishima don’t seem fazed.

“then i’ll quit too.” kirishima says.

you hear noises from outside in the hallway before the door opens.

“and i’ll quit too.” mina says, stepping into the room.

“same here.” kaminari says.

“i will also quit.” todoroki nods.

suddenly you see around 20 hero’s walking through the door, all announcing they’re quitting.

finally, izuku, the number one hero steps into the room.

“and i’ll quit too.” he declares.

the whole conference table of commission members shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“WE DID IT!!” kirishima screams.

the whole sidewalk of pro hero’s erupt in cheers and hollers.

some hug you, others pat katsuki on the back.

you feel overjoyed and jump into katsuki’s arms, the two of you sharing a kiss.

“let’s go home.” katsuki says.

you nod quickly, dropping back onto the ground.

while you’re sitting in bed that night, there’s increased touches and sweet kisses shared between you.

“i love you more than anything.” you whisper while being held tight in his arms.

“not as much as i love you.” he grins, arms tightening around you and he kisses your temple.

“i guess we should thank that villain that took away your memory, huh?” you say giggling.

he rolls his eyes playfully before biting your nose.

“just go to bed.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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sakkiichi · 10 months

Text

NOT IF IT’S YOU.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Luka, Seele x gn! reader.

genre/cw: angst to fluff, feelings of not being good enough, mentions of blood & injury, but soft comforting vibes.

✧ JING YUAN

Muffled cries and a darkened room are all the company you wish for tonight.

You messed up.

You utterly and completely fucked up.

Not only were you not able to catch the stellaron hunter, but you also got severely injured.

In your defense, the guy was skilled with that wicked sword of his.

And yet, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

Pressing your hand down your bloody side, you reach home.

And for the first time since you started dating him, you really hope the general is already asleep tonight.

The creaking of the wooden door makes you cringe when you enter the main hall, memorized steps guiding you to the bathroom.

Hopefully you’ll be able to patch yourself up without making too much noise.

A low purr greets you when you reach your destination’s door.

“Shhh, Mimi, please…” you utter, weakly, patting her fur with the hand that’s not soaked in blood. “Be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” The lion purrs again, as if unsatisfied, sensing something’s clearly amiss.

Wincing, you close the bathroom’s door behind yourself, pent up tears blurring your vision as you rummage the cabinets for disinfectant and some bandages.

“And just about what do you think you’re doing?” A familiar baritone sternly asks.

You stop in your tracks, a roll of bandage in your bloodstained hand.

“Jing Yuan…” you meekly manage. “Sorry I woke you up.” You lower the dressings in your grasp, defeated.

“You’re bleeding yourself out and me having woken up is your first concern?” He asks, disbelieving, leaning off the doorframe, walking towards you.

“I’m not bleeding myself out, general.” You respond through gritted teeth, your tone harsher than intended. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

And yet, the pained hiss you let out begs to differ.

“Let me see.” Your lover prompts, placing a calloused hand on your shoulder.

“No!” You pull away from his touch, something you had never done before. “I already told you, it’s just a scratch, it’s not worth worrying over, I’m not worth worrying over...”

“Don’t say that again.”

Jing Yuan’s tone leaves no room for argument, steely as the spear he wields. His usually soft amber eyes are akin to raging embers now, glueing you in place, a gelid chill running down your spine.

“But it’s tr-“

“Don’t. Don’t let me hear it.” The arbiter general cuts off, his voice a contrast to the tenderness with which he takes the stained gauze from you.

And under the warmth of his touch, you let yourself be shielded by the rainfalls of lightning with which he’d struck down any who dared hurt you.

Careful hands remove your sticky shirt, a deep gash criss-crossing your abdomen in ominous shades of crimson. With as much softness as he can muster, your lover applies antiseptic, stinging pinpricks in his wake.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” You mumble, voice milliseconds away from breaking. “It’s trouble, I’m trouble, I failed the mission and now you have to patch me up and take care of m-“

Slightly parched lips land on yours, ardently, as if wanting to cauterize the raw soreness from your open wound. Jing Yuan’s hands settle on your waist, like stitches putting shards of you back together, your brokenness, a myriad of pieces glued back into a colorful mosaic.

And in his healing hold, you let yourself fall, because you know no matter how small the pieces, by his side, you’ll find a way to solve the puzzle.

“You are never trouble to me.” Is your general’s affirmation when he pulls away, leaving a lingering kiss on your brow as he begins wrapping your gaping wound.

Perhaps this once, you’ll believe it, you think, as the ache dulls and exhaustion starts to take over.

✧ BLADE

The moment you see his weapon fly out of his grasp, all caution is thrown to the wind.

You weren’t used to the sight of him anything but defeating with ease any who dared to cross him.

Yet now, he bleeds.

Staggering to the side, Blade tries to reach for his discarded sword.

To no avail, for he drops to his knees, sickly crimson pooling at his feet.

Whatever cursed fragmentum creature he’s parrying against will land its last strike.

You can’t imagine a world without Blade. Without Ren.

Not like this, not ever.

The next sound in the desolate battlefield is the clang of metal against metal and your strained grunts.

“[Y/n]…” your lover musters, barely any strength left in his usually steely tone. “Go…”

“Like hell I’m leaving you here!” You yell back, your muscles sore from blocking the enemy’s fatal blow. “I’m not abandoning you, Ren!” A lone tear slides from the corner of your eyes, because of the effort or the thought of a world where you don’t get to wake up by Blade’s side, you are not sure.

“[Y/n]… I’m done for.” He coughs.

“Shut up, shut up, shut the hell up!” You scream, now locked in combat with the creature launching their piercing weapons at you.

You manage to dodge a few of its pounces, ducking and parrying as best you can.

But eventually, their chainsaw-like armament grazes your collarbone, your sky shattering cry hurting Blade more than the deadly wounds he bears.

You can’t let this end here.

Mustering strength from aeons know where, you impale your own weapon into the monster’s middle.

Flecks of fiery dust fly around you, before the construct goes up in flames, the image burning in your teary gaze.

“Ren!” You call, running to kneel by his broken form.

“Why?” The stellaron hunter wonders, ebony hair plastered to his face, deep night skies shadowing the underside of his ruby eyes. His bleeding hand reaches to cup the side of your face. “Why did you save me? I’m rotten.”

If it wasn’t because the guy is quite literally holding himself together in tatters, you’d be slapping some sense into him.

Instead, tears stained in yours and his shades of red careen down your cheeks.

“You are not! You never are! And you never will be to me!” You fling your arms around him, holding his weakened body as close to your heartbeat as possible.

Blade never believed in angels, but tonight, you might as well have been one. His savior in a battlefield where he otherwise would have breathed for the last time.

✧ DAN HENG

Night stars and daylight seem to mingle together lately.

Aboard the astral express, you find yourself buried in work. Records from expeditions, blueprints from parts of the train you need to memorize should they need repairing, leads and clues on the whereabouts of the stellaron hunters… the lines of text begin to blur before your tired eyes, eliciting a sigh from your lips.

It might be good to go grab a coffee, you muse.

But looking at the time, you should work for a while longer without distractions, you really could use a breakthrough in the stellaron investigation… Everyone’s working so hard, and the last thing you want is to be dead weight.

As you stretch your arms and attempt to re-focus on your task, three knocks resound through your room’s quiet.

Resignation makes itself apparent on your tone when you ask:

“What is it?”

“It’s just me.” A familiar voice, smooth as a breeze combing through greenery states.

“Dan Heng!” A relaxed smile tugs at your lips, as you get up from your desk to let him in. No matter how many galaxies you transversed, Dan Heng’s presence was always the brightest constellation to you.

Now, it’s not like you can admit your feelings to him, but you’ll enjoy this fond closeness you have now while you can.

“You’re still up?” You prompt, more of a statement than an actual question. “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He deadpans, arms crossed over his chest.

“Work.” You sheepishly say, with a mirthless smile.

“Have you eaten?” The dark haired man questions, the lilt of his tone indicating he is very much aware of how you have indeed not dined.

“Uh… I drank fruit juice and coffee? A while ago?”

Now it’s his turn to sigh in exasperation.

“How many times will it take of me repeating it to you for you to take care?”

“Sorry.” You lower your head. You know your friend is right and you’ve been neglecting yourself, but can you be blamed? The amount of work you took on is hefty, to say the least.

“Since you aren’t doing it yourself, let me take care of you.” His aquamarine eyes pierce through you, but they hold a warm gentleness to them. Every time you get lost in his gaze, you feel like you’re swimming in luminescent lakes under a thousand starry nights.

However, the reverie is short lived.

When you feel his hand around your wrist, pulling you out of your airless room, a shadow of guilt lodges at the back of your mind.

“Dan Heng, I can’t let you do that.” You stop in your tracks, averting your gaze, not allowing yourself the pleasure to dip in the profound waters of his eyes.

“Why not?” The boy’s hold on you slackens a little.

“You have enough work yourself, I can’t burden you anymore…” You mumble the last part, but it doesn’t escape him.

“You’re not a burden.” The wielder of cloud piercer assures you, incisively.

His hold on you tightens a little, his hand descending to find yours.

“But surely you’d prefer spending your time doing something more fun or, I don’t know, useful, at least…”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He responds. His hand squeezes yours in silent reassurance.

You could get used to his touch.

You’d like it very much, actually.

Instead, self-doubt robs you of your voice again tonight.

“Why?” Is the question echoing in between the corridor’s walls.

“Because I like- no, because I love you.” Is Dan Heng’s confession, cheeks matching the maroon of the maple leaves you’ve sometimes studied together.

Loud heartbeats and frenzied euphoria mingle in your chest, your hand squeezing his this time.

“What? Really? No, don’t get me wrong, it’s good- I mean, thank you- I mean, are you sure? Because I’m flattered but- Well, I love you t-“

Your speech is cut short by familiar hands steadying your shoulders. Dan Heng heaves a shaky breath, then:

“I’m going to show you how sure I am.”

A second later, his lips carefully, tentatively, envelop yours. It’s hesitating, and your noses bump a few times, but, to you, it couldn’t be any more perfect.

Your hands find themselves clinging to the front of his shirt, his still poised on your shoulders.

And as you leave fields of stars behind and enter new woods of shining asteroids, you finally let yourself submerge in the pools of jade contained in the mysterious man’s gaze.

Taking a break was certainly worth it, is the thought crossing your mind, as you lean in for another less innocent kiss.

✧ LUKA

“Ouch!”

“Stay still, Luka.”

“But it stings!”

“Oh and the blows you took out there didn’t?”

“But I won, right?”

“You always say that, yet at what cost?”

That is the currently ongoing conversation (or scolding, depending on how you look at it); the same one that repeats every week, after every victory he achieves in the fighting ring.

Because no matter how many times he emerges as victor, Luka always comes back to you beaten up and bruised. Bloody sometimes too, and you can only be grateful for no fractured bones.

You were no healer, but you still remember the first time you saw him fight.

—

It was his first ever combat, against a much bigger opponent.

Luka was smiling when his arm was lifted announcing his victory, and yet, you will never be able to shake off the sight of his concealed flinches every time his chest rose and fell.

His bruised ribs didn’t escape you.

In the same way that you didn’t miss the redhead lingering for a while after the crowd had dissipated.

Those coughs of his naturally wouldn’t let him go too far.

“Hey, are you alright?” You approached him.

“Sure, I’m fine!” The fighter tried to smile, only for it to turn into a fit of coughing that didn’t sound good at all, especially not with how he keeps holding his sides every time his ribcage so much as slightly stirs.

“No, you’re not fine.” You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. “You have a black eye, your ribs look bruised and you’re limping. How is that being fine, again?”

“I’ll get through it.” He smiled. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light of the venue, akin to patches of clear sky in the soot-filled air of the underworld.

“How exactly? Passing out from pain? Come on, sit down, I’ll patch you up.” You offered, hurrying around the rundown gym, in search for something resembling a first aid kit.

“You don’t need to-“

“No buts.” You stated, leveling him with a gaze, pointing at him with a newly acquired roll of bandages.

—

“You know, you don’t have to waste your time on m-“ he tries to retort now, summer ocean eyes averted, his usual smile replaced by a frown you’re not fond of.

“Luka.” You stop him before he can continue his self deprecation.

“But you could be doing so much bette-“

“I won’t hear it.” You cut off, applying more pressure than needed while disinfecting a cut on his cheekbone. “We’ve already talked about this. You keep getting roughened up on the battlefield, I’ll be here to patch you up. No buts.”

A smile crosses the redhead’s face, the swirling typhoons in his gaze calming down to ripples over a lake. But still, some clouds linger over the surface, no sunlight quite filtering through in harp like beams underwater.

“Don’t you get tired, though?” Luka ventures, hesitation and bashfulness lacing his tone.

“Never when it comes to you.” You assure him, without having to think twice. “And no buts.”

“No buts, huh?” The corner of his lips curves upward, the cheeky smirk you always adored back. “But what if I asked you to kiss it better, would you?” The fiery haired warrior teases.

“Oh, you…” And yet, you can’t hide the wide smile helplessly illuminating your features.

Softly, your lips brush over each of the clean bandages you applied.

And Luka could swear your lips are better than any painkiller.

“There, all healed.” You whisper when you pull away, enchanted by the lights dancing in the sapphire expanse of his stare.

“Not yet.” He breathes, pulling you to him by the hand, your weight falling against his bare chest.

“Luka…” Is all you can muster before he’s kissing you full on the lips, his hands on the small of your back, the softness of his skin and the iron-hardness of metal making your every hair stand on end. You cup his face tenderly, brushing sweaty auburn strands away, as you drown in the colliding waves of his intense tide.

“Now I’m all healed.” Are Luka’s words when he pulls away, dopey smile adorning his bruised face.

You’re definitely never getting tired of this.

✧ SEELE

By moonlight, she waits.

From her vantage point on the rooftop of Goethe Grand Hotel, Seele counts down the seconds for your return.

She’s noticed.

Your leaves in the dead of every night, when you think everyone’s sleeping soundly.

Your returns before dawn, covered in dust and bruises.

The puffiness and redness of your eyes, the shadows under them.

In the starless silence, the butterfly stills her wings, listening to the steps crossing Boulder Town’s plaza.

With a swift motion, the wildfire fighter steps down from her perch, leaning against the hotel’s front wall.

“Good night to you too.” Seele calls.

Your eyes widen in shock. Why is she here now? She wasn’t supposed to see you in such a state.

“Seele! You startled me…” You try for a reassuring smile, as if to say ‘hey, everything’s fine’, but alas, when it came to you, nothing escaped Babochka.

“Cut the act, will you?” She scoffs, a hand resting on her hip. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

“Nothing’s going on.” You meekly answer, tone cold and distant.

Your girlfriend’s violet gaze dilates, concern overtaking her frown.

This detached iciness… This isn’t like you at all.

But Seele’s forte were never hugs and promises for better days to come, no. A fighter honed in battles for a mere glass of water, she always knew how to hit you with honesty, a scythe shredding the rainclouds dampening your light.

“So, are you going to keep looking miserable and isolating yourself?” She scoffs. “Be for real, you are barely talking, you leave at ungodly hours every night and you look like you’ve been crying for ages every morning. So are you going to tell me what’s wrong already?”

You heave a breath, the simple action exhausting.

“I just… I don’t feel like I deserve anyone… I’m not a good enough fighter, I’m not smart enough, I don’t really… I’m not proud of my personality and just…” you inhale, the night breeze unbearably frigid, even though the weather’s not even cold. “These nights, I’ve been going into the mines, to try and help, I guess, or to avoid thinking…” your shoulders slump.

Seele sighs, the bite in her tone completely faded, concern and care lingering as the indigo pigments of a butterfly caught in your palm.

“You can talk to me, you know?” She says, softer this time, her hand finding your blistered one from these last days.

“I know, I just… I don’t want to be a bother…”

“You never are, silly.” Your lover flicks your forehead, wrapping strong arms around your trembling form. “You never are.”

Quiet sniffles escape you at her warm embrace.

You had missed this.

You had missed her.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” Seele utters, barely above a whisper, like a monarch’s flutter.

You nod, wiping the tears that started falling, glinting in your lashes like doomed satellites.

“I love you, never forget that.” Is your partner’s promise, with the moon as witness.

For the first time in weeks, you would fly in the sweetness of dreams tonight. By her side.

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the-californicationist · 2 months

Note

Lost the post but it was so good and I'd love to get your take on it!

Price getting videos of you playing from home while he's deployed, and you aren't exactly quiet. Well, the boys hear it and it leads to them watching it at some point (with your permission of course!). I thoroughly believe Price loves showing off what's his and is comfortable in your relationship to consider sharing you with his team, maybe even in more ways than 1?

Maybe Price and reader record themselves a separate time to show the boys? I don't know I'm frothing at the mouth thinking of Price showing you off!

I am slowly making my way through these asks!! Thank y'all so much for being patient. As soon as I clear out my list, I'll turn the ask button back on.

This premise is so hot! Hope this is sort of what you were looking for?

Show and Tell

Price opened your video in the middle of Ghost’s briefing presentation. Luckily, only the task force was in attendance, but as he played the clip, your lust-filled moans echoed throughout the small conference room, unmistakable. All eyes turned to him, and Ghost halted mid-speech.

“Uh, sorry…” Price muttered, quickly swiping away.

“Fuck, Cap. I know you showed us her photo, but she is damn fine,” Gaz chuckled, leaning over his commander’s shoulder to try and look at the screen.

“Eyes front, Sergeant.”

“Only seems fair to share, mate,” Johnny quipped, a gleam shining in his eye.

Ghost put his hands on his hips,

“If it was important enough to interrupt my presentation, maybe it’s important enough to share with the class… sir.”

Price sighed and sent off a quick text. He was asking you for permission to share. It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked you, but all the others had just been the odd picture here and there; a fancy neglige, or a holiday swimsuit… it was harmless. But, this was something else. To his surprise, you messaged back with an affirmative “Yes!” and a winking emoji.

“Fine.”

Ghost held his hand out and beckoned for the phone,

“C’mon. We’ll put her on the big screen.”

Reluctantly, and a little worried things had gotten fully out of hand, Price handed over the phone. Your enthusiastic response was the only thing propelling him forward at this point. He wasn’t possessive, but he wasn’t much of a sharing man.

But, then, there you were… in all of your beautiful glory. You were using your vibrator and sitting on the tile floor of your bathroom, burying a thick silicone dildo in your pussy to the hilt. Your moans echoed through the room again in spectacular 4k.

“Mmm! Oh! Fuck… John, fuck me. Please! Yeah! Mmm. Just like that. Ungh!”

And then the video replayed on its loop. Every time, your shining lips would buzz with the whir of the vibrating wand, and your pink pussy would stretch to accommodate the toy that you were fucking yourself with, slicking it with your fluids and making it gleam. Your tits were bouncing as you rode it up and down, and your head was thrown back in beautiful abandon.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price decided.

Ghost handed him back the phone with a sly smile,

“Holy shit, Cap. She’s quite the little spitfire.”

Soap’s hand reached into his canvas pants and obviously adjusted himself, hardening like a stone. He let out a low, approving whistle.

“She let you share that?” Gaz asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Price nodded, not sure what to say.

“I want to see more,” Soap put a hand to his forehead in shock.

“Well, that’s all,” Price shrugged, and then added, “...for now.”

The whole room shifted a bit. Everyone was on edge. The rest of the briefing went by as quick as a flash, but before everyone left the room, Price suggested,

“You know, it would only be polite to send one back.”

Later that night, he got three enthusiastic notifications. In each one, his men were jacking off to her, complimenting her, talking about what a pretty pussy she had, thanking her for sharing with them. Unzipping his pants, Price decided to add one of his own.

As his hand worked him hard, he watched your video over and over again. He imagined how your tight little cunt felt around his cock, and how sweet you tasted. He imagined how you liked to whisper naughty things in his ear, talking to him about sucking him off in front of his task force, making them watch. Price knew you wanted to do more exhibitionism, and he encouraged you when he thought about how hot it would be to watch you discovering that pleasure.

His cock throbbed in his hands, and he whispered into the phone as he videoed himself,

“Such a naughty girl, you were, showing yourself to my men. We put you on the projector. You looked incredible, missus. You always look incredible. Had all of us achin’ for you. Thought Soap was gonna come right there. Ungh…”

Price tightened his grip and thrust into his palm, rubbing his foreskin up and over his swollen head, slicking himself with his precome over and over and over until it became almost too much. He told you,

“So, we decided to pay you back. For your gift. Hope you send us some more, baby. So fuckin’ hot. Mmm, fuck… my cock misses you, love. So bloody much. F– Fuck!”

Price’s orgasm erupted from his body, coating his belly in white, creamy liquid. He just kept coming and coming, thinking about how you would look with all your pretty holes filled twice. Stuffed so full with no escape.

He sent off the files one by one, starting with his own, and he waited for your reply.

The next morning, he woke up to two messages. One was a text, and the other was a video. The text just said: Wish you all were here with a heart emoji. When he played the video, he realized what you meant.

You had lined up your toys, four of them, all in a row on the bed. Price pressed pause and went to go find the boys. He decided it might be better if they could all see your performance together. He set you up on the projector again, and his men filed in one by one, eager to see what you’d sent.

“She said she wished we were all here, so I thought you lads might want to see what she sent.”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” Soap sat front and center, wiping a hand down his face, eyes glued to the screen.

Ghost chuckled,

“You’re a lucky man, sir.”

“That’s the fuckin’ truth, innit?” Gaz agreed.

Once everyone was settled, Price pressed play.

You were wearing a little black bodysuit made of silk and lace, and he could see your dark nipples through the fabric. He knew which one it was. It was crotchless, and just the memory of fucking you in it made him hard.

You sat on the bed, the four toys spread out in front of you, and you picked up the first one gently. You grabbed some lube from off-camera and squirted it all over the toy and leaned forward, squatting over it, working it into your asshole in tight little thrusts, moaning ever so sweetly as you let it fill you up.

Then, once it was fully sheathed inside of you, you reached for the two toys in the middle, using the lube that was left on your hands to make them slip against each other. You used one to rub through your pink folds, teasing your hole with the head of it, and then — inch by inch — pushed it into your wet pussy. You took the second one and, with quite a bit of difficulty, tried to fit it in next to the first, stretching yourself out even more than you had in the first video, even with these much smaller toys.

Price couldn’t believe his eyes. You were like some sort of sex goddess, showing off skills he didn’t even know you possessed, and your screams of pleasure were making him drunk with pride and lust. He heard a zipper go down and watched as Gaz started fucking his own hand, right in front of him.

“Sargeant,” Price admonished him, but Gaz just shrugged and kept jerking off his long dick,

“Sorry, Cap. Can’t help it.”

Another long moan from you drew Price’s attention back to the screen. You were reaching behind you, wrapping your arm around your body, and fucking yourself in the ass with the largest toy, calling out to him,

“John… please. I need your cock… I need all of your cocks… ungh, fuck. Fill me with your come. Every hole. Please?”

Then, for your final performance, you used your free hand to feed the final toy into your throat, gagging on it and letting your drool run down your chin. Your legs were shivering, something that Price knew wasn’t easy to achieve. You must be so damn horny. He smiled, palming himself over his jeans, so proud of you for bringing yourself such pleasure like that.

Ghost grunted, and Price looked over to see him hunched over, spilling his come onto the floor of the office.

The video ended, and in the silence, the captain heard the wet milking noises of his men fisting their erections, trying to come to your incredible performance.

Soap gasped breathlessly,

“Hit play again, Cap’n. Please…”

Price smiled, looking down at his team in all of their sex-addled joy, and pushed the replay button.

"Maybe we should all put in for some leave, hm?" Price suggested.

He was met with a very enthusiastic round of approving moans, and he felt the excitement rush across his skin like wildfire.

His pretty girl would have what she wanted, and he would make sure of it.

If you liked this story, you may also like one of my other fics: He Shows You Off! But, please heed the tags.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

Text

eyeeeee am suffering today so here’s my beloved taking care of me

“you hurtin’?”

you sniff, pressing your forehead into his stomach. he reaches down to comb his fingers through your hair, and you wonder if he knows what effect that absentminded little action has on you. tears sting at the corners of your eyes and it’s embarrassing—you try to hum an affirmative reply but it comes out more of a whimper.

katsuki’s patient—hand smoothing over the back of your head lovingly while he waits for a real response. you take a deep breath and offer him a nonsensical, mumbled “i’m sorry.”

“what for?”

“it’s just that this happens every month and i’m sure it gets tiring to have to check up on me—“

you’re cut off by a sharp flick to your forehead. you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, pouting a little. “ow?”

he huffs out a chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair again. “that didn’t hurt, you wuss.” he bends down to kiss the spot anyway, and stays crouched so he’s at eye level with you. “s’my job to take care of you.”

you start to protest, because it’s really not, but he just reaches out and flicks your forehead again.

“fucking—why—“

“‘cause you think too much. i didn’t ask what you thought about the emotional labor distribution in the relationship, you motherfucker” and you know he’s mocking you, but he’s stupid and it makes you laugh, which softens him a little bit. “i asked if you were hurtin’ because i know you are and i want t’help. so just shut up and let me do that.”

you blink at him, and the tears are back with a vengeance—he sees your lip wobble and tuts at you, reaching to pull you off the couch and into his lap where he sits on the ground.

“fuckin’ crybaby,” he mutters, but it’s only fond as his hands work their way under the material of your (his) t shirt to rub your back. his warmth dulls the ache, if only a little bit.

“fuck off,” you whine, but it cracks a little and it’s muffled into his shoulder and it makes him laugh. you feel it rumble beneath you and you press closer, wanting to feel it again.

“what d’ya need?”

you pause, thinking about it. “i want to bury myself in the blankets on the bed.”

“okay.”

“and i want the cat.”

“okay?”

“and i want you to pass me snacks underneath the blankets.”

“oi, you’re not eating on the—“

“you have to knock first.”

he levels you with a look, cocking an eyebrow at you. you’d be intimidated if you didn’t know it was all for show—he’d do anything you asked him to.

“and also—“

“jesus christ—”

“i want you to hold my hand.”

that gives him pause, and you’ll make fun of him later for the way you watch him fold like a limp noodle.

“under the blankets?”

“under the blankets.”

he sighs, all dramatic, and he hauls both of you off the floor with a concerningly little amount of effort. you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back to your bedroom. he sets you on the bed—gently, instead of his usual wwe style takedown—and dutifully throws the comforter over your head. you settle in, listening to him rummage around the house.

you hear him return, and you reach out to hold the comforter down so he can’t pull it up.

you hear him pause, and then sigh deeply. you hear the smile on his face.

“…knock, knock.”

you release your grip on the blanket, and he raises it only enough to shove your cat’s head through it. the little thing chirps it’s excitement to have joined you and you cackle, pulling her the rest of the way through.

you hear him pad back to the kitchen, muttering a “little fuckin’ bridge troll,” to himself. your cat settles in and katsuki returns, dropping what you assume to be your snacks onto the bed. you shoot an arm out from under the blankets and grab for them, yanking them under. you hear him snort, and then feel the bed dip under his weight as he settles in next to you.

you reach under the blanket again, feeling around blindly for his hand. he lets you tap around the bed a few times because he’s the worst, and then you feel his warm fingers intertwine with yours. you let out a pleased little hum and drag his hand under the blanket.

you press a tiny kiss to a scar over his knuckles. “love you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek into the back of his hand. he squeezes your fingers gently.

“love you, you little freak.”

#if there’s anyone i’m not normal about it’s this mf #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou comfort #bakugou drabble #bkg it's the little things

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 6

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.2k words - AO3 18+ Minors DNI. Explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Praise kink. Darling is her own tag/warning. Angst, anxiety, relationship issues, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. Lots of feelings. Established throuple. Pov switch. The guys propose a field trip.

The rain tonight is fitting.

It’s dreary, and sad, and if it was the middle of the day, the sky would be a soggy grey color, clouds full and punchy, waiting to burst open with their weight.

The drops against the window are the only sound outside of Simon’s voice in the flat, his affirms and negatives bouncing around the room wildly, looking for somewhere, anywhere to land.

He stares at his feet while he listens to his captain, counting the number of speckled flecks of dark wood in the floor. You won’t look at him, your eyes staring dully out the window, watching the rain drops. Holding your breath.

Johnny watches him like a hawk though, those sharp, too keen eyes honing in on every syllable, every variance of inflection. He keeps one arm around you, tethering you to his body, like a leash, a landline, a connection unbreakable.

“-not exactly sure yet, wanted to talk to ya first.” Simon nods. This may, quite possibly, be the absolute worst timing of their lives right now, but he’s unsure how to communicate that to the captain so he’ll understand. Price may not be entirely aware of their current predicament, but he does know about you, and he knows what it’s like to have someone at home, waiting. Wondering. Watching.

“We’re moving this comin’ week.” He grits out, teeth gnashed so tightly he thinks they might break. Johnny’s hand moves up and down your arm, his pace anxious, and quick, instead of something slow and soothing that may be more appropriate, or helpful, in this moment. He’s panicking. He’s panicking, and you’re staring out the window like you can see the future through the glass. Price says something, a remark about them getting a new place and Simon nods robotically. “Can I call you back, sir?”

“In the morning.” He answers, and Simon flexes his wrist before giving him another affirm and hanging up.

He folds himself next to you on the couch, one hand reaching for Johnny’s, the other pulling your focus by lightly tracing a line down your jaw.

“Darling.” He says and you face him fully, fresh tears in your eyes.

“So.” You rub your cheek, and inhale deeply. “When do you leave?”

“Yer thinkin’ about her.” Johnny grins, teeth split to reveal the flashes of pink and red inside his mouth. A delectable, delicious mouth that Simon wants nothing more to feel on him right now. On his own. On his skin. On his cock. “You been thinkin’ about ‘er?” He’s not wrong. Simon is thinking about you. He’s thinking about how he does wish you were here right now, in their bed, with them. He’s thinking about how you’re doing, if you’re feeling okay, if you’re thinking about them too. He’s thinking about how it would be, if he had both you and Johnny naked beneath him in this moment, your body wet and ready for them, your eyes wide with anticipation. But he’s not only thinking about you, too. He’s thinking about Johnny. He’s thinking about the way Johnny collapsed into bed this morning after they got home, but still couldn’t fall asleep until Simon was wrapped around him, pinning his body beneath his weight, safe. Secure. He’s thinking about Johnny earlier in the shower, his fingernails in Simon’s scalp, the warmth and shelter of his touch. He’s thinking about Johnny in the kitchen afterwards, naked save for a towel, water droplets streaking a course down his stomach that Simon followed with his tongue.

“I’m thinkin’ about you, MacTavish.” He paws at Johnny on the bed, rotating him by his hips so he lays belly down. “And I’m thinking about her.”

“We could call her.” He says dreamily, and Simon presses a thumb behind his knee, knocking his one leg out and to the side.

“We could.” He doesn’t say he wants to. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He doesn’t know how to handle this… thing, that has happened. To both of them. Doesn’t know what to do with you, the girl that suddenly appeared in their lives so easily, like you’ve always fit there.

It’s not like this would be easy. It’s not like it’s something they have experience with, either. Sure, they’ve brought additional partners to their bed in the past, but usually in passing, almost always to never be seen again.

Until you. Until you became a “second time thing” and then a third, and then a fourth. Until they were calling you last month, home from an op and wondering about you, thinking about you, talking about you, like they are now.

You… you would be, you are, different. Something new. Something fragile. Something theirs.

Simon shoves it all down, packs it away for another time.

They could get hurt. You could get hurt. Everything could go wrong.

Johnny wiggles in front of him, rising up on his knees, back arched while he watches over his shoulder. The curve of his spine, swell of his ass sitting just so, right and perfect, ready for the taking. Ready for Simon. He ghosts his touch across his skin, smirking when Johnny draws a hot, sharp breath. His cock swells, already heavy with desire, desperate for Johnny.

He presses a finger against his already slick rim, prepped with lube moments ago, and feels how Johnny twitches for him before pushing through, crooking it just so, just right that Johnny sputters, all logical thoughts emptying from his brain.

“There it is.” Simon’s voice is low, dangerous, and it drives Johnny farther into a different headspace, the one that he desperately needs every now and then, the one that only Simon can give him. He strokes along the spot, and Johnny pulses with electricity, fully trembling beneath him. It’s a lovely sight for Simon, truly one of the sweetest things he’s seen, and he runs a thumbnail down the center of Johnny’s cock, just to tease him that much more.

“Simon.” He whines, voice breathy and full of need, sitting on the cusp of shattering.

“Hush. Need you ta be a good boy for me.” He admonishes, but reassures him with his touch, rubbing a hand up and down his spine before tracing a finger back down to his arse, where the tight ring of muscle waits. His Johnny, smart, gorgeous, deadly, perfect Johnny. His sweet, good boy. He strokes his cock languidly, watching his Sergeant squirm before he presses the crown of his cock to where he waits, his body worked open in the last hour while Johnny drooled on his cock, and Simon stretched him around his fingers.

Johnny chokes when he pushes into him, his chest heaving for air and Simon smiles, taking his time, enjoying the thrum of Johnny’s muscles around his cock, grinding deep once he’s fully seated.

“Fuck!” he yelps, and Simon folds himself forward, hand knotting into the mohawk, mouth kissing along the skin of his shoulder.

“That’s it.” He croons, flexing his hips, thrusting in tiny, micro movements that makes Johnny’s skin slick with sweat. “That’s good, Johnny, so, so good. Openin’ up so nice for me.” His cock throbs, an involuntary shiver working its way up and down his spine while Johnny moans into the pillow. He’s beautiful, and Simon can’t not stare him, the flush of his skin, the color of his eyes, the way his tongue darts forward to lick his lips. So, so beautiful. And so, so utterly Simon’s. He thrusts harder, faster, skin slapping against skin until Johnny is crying so beautifully, groans falling from his lips while Simon splits him open on his cock. "My sweet, good boy. Takin' me like you were made for it." He grunts between thrusts, and Johnny keens.

Johnny’s hand flails wildly at his side, seeking purchase across the sheets, and Simon grabs it, snaking his own under his chest and pulling him upwards until his back is nearly pressed against his chest, spine curved and jaw slack.

“I love you.” Simon murmurs in his ear, holding both of them completely still. “I love you, MacTavish. You’re mine.” He finds Johnny’s cock and strokes, hand already slick, and Johnny practically purrs in response, clenching around Simon, his body trying to draw Simon’s orgasm from him while Simon pulls Johnny towards his.

“Yours.” He gasps in response. “All- shite- you, Si. You.”

“Come for me, Johnny. Come on.” The encouragement is all it takes before Johnny’s tensing and then spilling all over Simon’s fist, his voice pitching deeper when he shouts his name.

Simon pushes him back down onto the bed, arcing up over his body, fucking into him wildly, chasing his own end, his burning desire to fill him up with his come, mark him with everything he has, drowning him in his own orgasm. His Johnny. His, his, his- it’s all he thinks about when he pushes deep, the angle causing Johnny to cry out, and then he comes, sealing his hips to the swell of Johnny’s while he lets his cock leak every drop into his body.

He cuddles Johnny close, breath fawning over his ear, one hand intertwined with his while he strokes his hair from his face, palm smoothing over his forehead and back in a repeated motion. He’s sweet, and sated, and limp in Simon’s arms, mouth gapped open while he slips in and out of twilight sleep. Simon’s nearly there too, brain carefully shutting down piece by piece until Johnny tenses, the muscles in his arms and back going rigid, signaling that he’s awake, and he’s thinking. Or worrying.

“What is it?” He whispers, eyes still closed.

“What if she misses us too?” Johnny whispers. “What if she needs us?” Simon sighs.

“I don’t know, love.” He kisses his shoulder and holds him tight. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s not think about it until the morning.” You mumble, voice fatigued with exhaustion. “I don’t want to think about it… right now.” He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t return his gaze, instead keeping his own on you in this moment. You’re too aware, too observant, and you’d pick up on it. You always know when they’re exchanging glances, glances that communicate so much, and it never surprises, or frustrates him, when you grow exasperated with it, with them. They should be better about it, for you. He should be better.

“You sure?” Johnny hums, his fingertips lightly caressing your belly before stroking across your ribs and up to cradle your face. His eyes catalogue you, noticing and tallying the same things Simon has. Your exhaustion. Your anxiety. The toll the past few weeks have taken on you. Their fault, the toll that this relationship has taken on you is completely their fault. He suddenly feels like he’s swallowed a stone’s worth of hot rocks. “You’re so tired, darling girl.” Johnny fusses, and you nod sleepily, turning onto your side, waggling your fingers behind your back, the signal that you want your preferred sleeping position; Johnny curled behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and Simon partially underneath you, your ear pressed to his heart. You always hold Johnny’s hand, resting it across Simon’s abdomen, where he folds his own atop the two of yours. Your legs tangle together, and Johnny normally scratches Simon’s head before he falls asleep, something he’s carried home from ops, a self-soothing mechanism for both of them. It works differently, in the field, because they don’t normally sleep together and they’re always missing you, the lost puzzle piece in their mess of a life, but Johnny always somehow finds the time to sit or stand or lay near Simon at night, sneakily running his hands through his hair for a few moments before disappearing off to bed.

They always have each other, even when they’re across the world.

And you’re always the one left behind.

Every time. You’re left here alone. It’s not like they call, or text, or even email. It’s not like you even know when to expect them back half the time.

His chest feels tight. His body feels cold. You never asked for this. How is this fair to you?

A chilling thought creeps into his mind. Would you have been better off, if they had left you alone? Would you be happier?

“Simon?” you whisper, and he shifts, tilting his chin downwards to where you’re peering up at him. “You… okay? Your heart is beating really fast.” Johnny moves, just slightly so he can look over, and Simon swallows. It’s dry, but he does it anyway. Doesn’t know what else to do.

“I’m alright, knackered though.” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above the jagged line of a scar, and he pulls you in tighter, shifting so that his body cages you in against Johnny’s.

“Goodnight… I love you.” You mumble sleepily, the words meant for both of them, and Johnny kisses you tenderly behind the ear, while Simon leans down to brush his lips across the top of your head.

“Love you.” Johnny whispers, eyes slipping shut.

“Love you.” Simon is the last, as always, selfishly collecting both admissions and holding them close to his heart, where he replays them over and over, hands flexing against both of your bodies until he’s falling asleep, the two of you safe in his arms.

“We’ll be fine.” “Ah know, but...” Johnny trails off, eyes tracking to the closed bathroom door where the shower is running. “You’re recovering, and she’s… something’s goin on, Si.” He shifts his weight onto the crutch and leans forward, wrapping Johnny up with his free arm as well as he can before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m fine. Price needs ya.”

“Dinnae like leaving either of you.” He snaps, pulling away, while Simon rubs an exasperated hand over his face. “I’ll miss ya two, too bloody much.” He’s being reluctantly pulled away while Simon’s on medical leave, still healing from his last brutal bout of injuries that landed him on a med-evac and emergency surgery nearly a month ago, and he’s less than pleased.

But when the 141 calls, they answer. And since Simon can’t, Johnny must.

“We’ll miss you too.”

“And ah am worried, ‘bout her.”

“I know.” Simon doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need too, but he’s worried too. You’ve been off kilter since he came home, quiet and more to yourself than usual. You spend a lot of time fussing over him, making sure he’s comfortable, asking if he needs pain meds, worrying about how he’s feeling, but he’s fairly sure you’re using it to cover up something else that’s going on with you, something murky that’s brewing in your mind.

Johnny frowns, like he’s had a thought, and then motions to the bathroom. Simon counts the minutes in his head.

It's been a bit too long.

They push the door open, expecting to find it full of steam, the room usually too warm and fogged over from your showers, the scalding temperature that you prefer your water to be enough to peel the skin from their bones if they stood beneath it too long.

Instead, the bathroom is cold. Clinical. Unwelcoming.

They can see you, beyond the blur of the glass shower door, sitting on the ground, knees to your chin. Your hair is wet, even though it’s not close to being a wash day, that fact alone sending unease prickling up his spine, and he rips the shower door open as soon as he crosses, hobbles, across the room on the crutch.

“Darling?” He calls, looking down at where you sit against the tile.

You sigh. Long, loud. Heavy.

“Yeah.” You whisper and Johnny reaches inside, hand under the water as he chokes on his breath, the temperature cold enough to startle him.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses and reaches past Simon to twist the knobs to off. When you don’t move, don’t look up at them, Simon feels his heart crack. What is going on with you?

“Get a towel.” He instructs, while leaning over, still supporting his weight on the crutch, and grabbing you by your upper arm. “Come on darling, up you get.” You don’t fight, your body near lifeless as he pulls you to stand, and then drags you closer, nestling you against his chest.

“Your stitches.” You mumble a protest into his skin, while Johnny drapes a towel around your shoulders. “We’re not worried about my stitches right now, love.” He strokes your cheek, smoothing a thumb under your eye while you avoid looking at either of them. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You mutter.

“You were sitting in an ice-cold shower.” Johnny counters, and you shrug.

Avoidance. Nerves tighten in Simon’s gut.

“And yer hair is wet.” He murmurs, rubbing behind your neck, soft little circles meant to relax you, while Johnny works another towel on your ends, before drying you off below the waist. When you don’t say anything, he feels his composure start to fall apart. “Darling, please, tell us what’s going on. You’ve been like this for over a week. We’re worried, we’re-“

“Married?” you cut him off and he jerks back in surprise.

“Who told you that?” He keeps his voice very even, very calm. No wonder you’ve been so shut down. He’s going to kill Price. He’s going to kill Gaz.

He’s momentarily distracted by his anger, it’s gnawing rage building in the back of his throat, that he almost doesn’t recognize Johnny’s voice when he croaks;

“I did.”

“Should ‘ave told me, darling.” They’ve finally convinced you to lay down with them, mid conversation, so they can hold you while they talk. It helps quiet some of the shrieking in Simon’s head, some of the panic and fear that’s running under the surface of the river that rips through him in this moment.

“It felt… wrong. To be so worried about it, when Simon was in the hospital.” You sniffle, and Johnny shushes you, trying to soothe the frazzled tears that leak from your eyes. Simon watches warily from the opposite side.

“We’re not married.” He tells you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, where it certainly will not stay. “But the 141, and it’s bosses, thinks we are. We don’t correct them.” Your face twists up in confusion, and he sighs. “The base, that we fly in and out of… we have a room there. Sometimes we have to stay a day, or two, for after action reports. We don’t like to be separated so Price has worked it out so we can share.”

“The only way that can happen is if we’re married…” Johnny supplies, trying to be helpful, but Simon can see how your face clouds. How it darkens, and the anxiety, the confusion mars it.

“Which we’re not. But Price helps us, has made it so his boss, and others, think we’re married, so we can stay together.”

“We’re next of kin, on each other’s papers as well. It all allows us privileges, like at hospital.” Johnny tries to explain, bringing it back to the earlier admission, when he explained how he had told the surgeon they were married, and he was next of kin if any decisions needed to be made.

“So, pretty much you are married. Just without the certificate.” Simon winces.

“No, love. It’s not like that, it’s-“

“Everyone thinks you’re married. Their perception is reality when you’re at work. Or anywhere else... and you’re each other’s next of kin.”

“No.” Simon vows, but it doesn’t matter, you’re already pushing away, working yourself free from the tangle of them, shimmying off the bed. “Wait, listen-“

“No.” you repeat his denial back to him, and they both watch wordlessly as you yank a t shirt over your head, before sliding on a pair of leggings and slipping into sandals.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Out. For a walk… I can’t be here right now.”

“Stop.” Johnny pleads. “Stop, please. Just let us explain.”

“I think you have.” You quip over your shoulder. Simon’s out of bed now too, hot on your heels but you’re too fast for him on the crutch, and you’re already at the front door by the time he’s reaching for you.

“Darling.” He breathes, and when you turn, he sees the pain in your eyes, the fractured sense of security, the shattering of your heart, that one thing that they were supposed to keep whole. The thing they were supposed to protect.

Johnny calls your name from a few meters behind him, pleading. "Darling, please, don't run from us."

“I need some air.” You whisper it to your feet, and then before either of them can say anything else, the front door is slamming in his face.

“Fuck!” He shouts, at nothing. At the ceiling. At their own stupidity. “Fuck.”

It’s the twitching, that has Simon’s eyes opening wide in the middle of the night. He can feel your body, restless, rocking against him, your breathing sharp and hurried. He knows what it is within a second, knows what monster has crawled into their bed and invaded your dreams. A nightmare. A symbol of the true state of your mind slipping through the cracks of your subconscious. It’s a barometer, and his heart sinks a little while he shakes his sleepy eyes open. “Darling.” He whispers, smoothing a hand past your cheek to stroke some of your hair. Johnny sleeps soundly, still cradling you from behind, unmoved by your shuddering. He sleeps like a rock when home, safe and sound, comforted by the knowledge that all three of you are together. Simon usually gets close to that sense of safety, that feeling of security, but the vigilance, the undercurrent of fear, still simmers in his blood. It always will, if you and Johnny are around. It is the price of being in love, he supposes.

The price of having it all, comes with the fear of losing everything.

However, it comes in handy, in moments like these, when you’re trapped in your own dreams, trapped inside your own head.

You whimper, the noise twisted and scared, and he tightens his grip, not firm enough to hurt, but enough to hold you still while you lurch.

“Wake up, love. C’mon.” He speaks a little louder now, enough to wake Johnny, who flinches in his sleep before blinking his eyes wide. Simon watches how his free arm tenses, like he means to swing, before relaxing his muscles and meeting Simon’s gaze.

You cry, a dismayed sob reverberating through the two of them, and Johnny wraps his arm around Simon’s back, sandwiching you beneath them tightly. You pant against Simon’s skin, and he uses the hand that’s snug between your spine and Johnny’s chest to rub your back, easing you as gently as possible, while Johnny whispers above your ear.

“You’re alright, darling. You’re okay. You’re home, with us. Right here.” You’re still crying, still asleep, and Johnny frowns. Usually once you’re pressed between them, your nervous system soothes itself, and you wake easily. A little distressed at times, but not crying or thrashing like you are when the nightmares begin.

“Shhh.” Simon tries, and he squeezes the nape of your neck, not hard, but firmly, enough to apply pressure at the base of your skull. It’s worked in the past, when you’ve been lost in a night terror, or awake but too deep in your mind, entrenched in your own horrors, stuck in the dark cycles of your own brain. The pressure is effective, and he’s not sure why, but it settles you easily in most moments, grounding you, bringing you back to them. Where you belong.

It does the trick. You’re blinking awake in the next moment, face foggy with sleep, eyes heavy and confused.

“There she is.” Johnny hums, and you take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. “That’s it. Just breathe.”

“S-sorry.” You weep, voice wet and syrupy, sticky with your pain, with whatever hell was filling your dreams.

“It’s alright.” Simon assures you Johnny shifts, moving to sit up, and your hand grasps for him wildly, seeking his touch. When he grabs it, you settle, and he rubs a thumb across your knuckles.

“Chamomile?” He asks you gently, and you nod into Simon. “Be right back.” He brushes a sweet kiss across your cheek, and then onto Simon’s before sliding out of the bed while you sigh forcefully.

“Want to tell me?” Simon tries to probe, without pushing you too hard. You’re still half asleep, so when you give him a wispy no, he doesn’t push. There’ll be plenty of time later. “Okay darling, that’s alright.” He assures, and your eyes slowly slip closed while he lays there, not moving a single muscle.

The kitchen light flicks on, and Simon blinks to adjust before the dimmer switch is lowered, the light echo of your tip toes sliding across the floor to where he sits at the counter, hunched over a lukewarm cup of tea.

“Can’t sleep?” you hoist yourself onto the stool next to him, Johnny’s t shirt just coving your hips, hair twirled up like you’ve been in a wind tunnel. “Or bad dream?”

“Can’t sleep.” He answers, and you make a sympathetic noise in your throat while you touch his mug.

“Want me to make you a fresh one?”

“No, that’s alright darling. You can go back to bed.” He knows you must be bone tired, between the last few days since they’ve been home and the two weeks before that, when they were gone, you haven’t been getting much sleep.

“Can’t sleep either.” You whisper in the dark, words glum. He glances at the clock. 0207.

“You need your rest.” He tries to encourage, and can make out the squint of glare on your face.

“So do you.”

“Aye, the two of ‘e need your rest.” Johnny quips from the hall, and you turn to see him padding towards the kitchen, pajama pants slung low on his hips. He settles between your bodies, pressing against each outward thigh, before sighing, and resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. “Just leaving me in bed all alone then?” He pulls your hand into his, brushing his lips across your skin and clucking his tongue with sympathy. “How about we all lay on the couch?” Simon perks up a bit at that, knowing that having something on the television will ultimately lull him back to sleep, and probably you as well.

“Okay.” You agree, hopping off the stool and practically into Johnny before dragging him towards the living room. “But, I pick.”

“You picked earlier.” Johnny huffs and Simon rolls his eyes.

“’s true love, you did pick earlier.” You grumble something under your breath while you get situated on the couch, flexing yourself between him and Johnny, bending and stretching until you’re comfortable, and sandwiched, against them as always. Your face nestles in Johnny’s neck while he flick through the options, and Simon strokes a hand lovingly over your hip.

“This is nice.” You whisper, and he’s not sure if you’re speaking to him, or Johnny, or just yourself. He’s not sure if you’re talking about being together on the couch, or being together after they’ve returned home, or just being together as the three of you are, in life. In everything.

He agrees anyway.

“Yes, darling. It is.”

It’s still raining, when the morning comes. It’s something you note, miserably, when your eyes blink open and you realize the bed is empty, nearly cold on both sides.

It’s still raining, and the bed is empty.

Your head feels heavy, tired, from your restless sleep, exasperated from the nightmare, a small headache beginning to bloom and spread behind your eyes. Great.

You roll, burrowing into a pillow, breathing the scent left on the sheets as deeply as possible before the smell of coffee hits your nose, it's caramel, roasted flavor wafting under the door from the kitchen, and your toes practically curl against the sheets.

When the door swings open, you prop yourself up on your elbows to see them both, standing hesitantly near the end of the bed.

“Good… morning?” You leave the end with a question, a wondering, while Johnny steps onto the mattress with his knees and snakes an arm around your waist. He pulls you backwards, into his chest, safe and secure, but still sitting up, and Simon perches on the edge, cup of coffee waiting in his outstretched hand. “Thanks.” He presses it into your grip, and you smile at them, a little anxious. “What uh. What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you, if you’d be keen on a little field trip.” Johnny nuzzles your neck, mumbling the words into your skin. A field trip?

"We were hoping to bring you on base with us, during this next op.” Simon tries to explain when you frown. Your eyes widen, lips hovering above the coffee.

“To base?” You take a sip and immediately wince, drawing away from the steaming liquid. Simon takes it from you, depositing it on the bed side table before taking your hands in his.

“Yes. We’ve spoke to Price this morning, and he’s agreed to allow you to stay on base, in our room, if you'd like to come along.” On base. Go… on base. And stay in their room. A million emotions circle your heart in a quick pattern. But a few thoughts stand out the most.

They want to bring you with them. They don’t want to leave you behind.

“Okay.” You don’t need to think about it, your answer was already known by everyone in the bedroom. This is the first time they’ve ever offered to bring you to base, to include you in this way, and your heart trills in your chest. “Yeah.” You reaffirm, before a small, hopeful smile tugs at your lips. Simon cups a hand around your knee.

“Unfortunately, this won’t be like a vacation. You’ll have to stay close, and when we’re not with you, you won't be able to leave base.”

“That’s okay… I have my kindle. And I’m sure I’ll have work to do.” Your boss has been pushing you to take more time off anyway, right? You could totally swing this.

“And you can wait, for us to get back if you want.” Johnny follows up, gently. You know he doesn’t really want to talk about how they’re leaving again, and you still haven’t gotten the details.

“Yeah… how long-“

“It will be short.” Simon answers tersely. “Three, four days at the most, that’s why you can stay.” Four days? That’s like, more than short. That’s almost nothing. But Johnny nods against you, and you don’t question it. It’s not really your place, and you try not to pry regarding the ops.

“It’ll be nice, havin’ you in the hangar when we land.” Johnny murmurs and your skin heats, realizing you’ll get to be there to say goodbye and welcome back.

You’re silent, while you consider it, and the implications, something about this invitation soothing the wildness in your heart, like a balm to the wound that’s been bleeding out inside of you.

“Darling?” Simon finally rumbles, after you sat in silence for probably too long, and you nod.

“I’m here.”

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joined-by-stars-afar · 1 year

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how would they hold you? (KNY headcanons: demons)

Characters included: Tamayo, Enmu, Rui, Kaigaku, Daki, Gyutaro, Nakime, Akaza, Douma, Kokushibo, Muzan

Tamayo

She definitely likes just being in your company but I feel like she’d also find a lot of ease in you being within arms reach while she works on Nezuko’s medicine!

Sometimes she just gets so engrossed in her work on long days that she doesn’t even realize when she’s overworking herself, so having you there to gently squeeze her hand or rub her back always brings her out of it

Enmu

He loves surprising you!!

Sudden hugs from behind, running up and happily holding your hand, leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder, he’s all about it

Would obviously love it any time you did the same for him because it just reminds him how happy you both are being so close to each other!

I feel like he’d mostly love just hugging you around the middle, resting his head on your shoulder, just snuggling close, being as clingy as he wants with you happily patting his head, reminding him how happy you are that he’s close

Rui

Oh definitely a hand holder 1000%

I feel like he likes specifically leading you around, holding tight onto your hand, able to always feel you right there alongside him

After all, Rui has a big home, so he’s moving around a lot throughout the day, but that just means you get to follow him around, your hand in his the whole time, giving gentle little affirming squeezes to tell him you’re always right behind him

Honestly feel like he’s also the type to love being able to just lean his head on your shoulder

After all, he’s a kid at heart

Loves to just take breaks throughout the day, slowly tipping over until his head finds your shoulder, and before he can pull back in surprise, he’s enveloped by calm, knowing he can rest his head

Kaigaku

He likes hugging you from the side, his arm around your shoulders, keeping you beside him, reminding himself you haven’t moved on and left him behind

He doesn’t always find it easy to communicate verbally, to say, “I need you here,” so little moments like these are his saving grace

You were able to pick up on this behavior and now gladly go to his side, leaned close, whenever you see his eyes darting around anxiously, his fingers twitching, needing to hold you in his arms.

Definitely likes long hugs like 100%

He’s the type to give your hand gentle little squeezes throughout the day, his own little way of saying how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have you, how happy he is with someone by his side

Daki

Also a huge hand holder!!

Hear me out, she’d like it when you just take her hand and take all her worries away, leading her around, taking care of things for the time being, and she can just trail behind you like a little girl again

In general she likes being able to just reach out and hold your hand tight, especially in suffocating crowds in the entertainment district

She may have aged more than other demons who were turned at such a young age, but her heart is still just as youthful at times

“Don’t worry, Daki, just follow me, don’t worry about a thing today, you just relax, and I’ll take care of it,” takes more weight off her shoulders than you could ever know, and she can finally breathe easy for the day again

Gyutaro

He’s also accustomed to holding Daki’s hand, since it’s his own way of knowing he’s protecting the ones he loves, so he definitely holds yours all the time

Also just likes to hold you close when he can, clinging to you, his head over your shoulder, eyes closed peacefully, because you’re in his arms, and you’re alright

Not only does he like to hold your hand but he likes having you really close, right up against him, even so that your arm is against his, and he almost finds it comforting to be like a shield between you and any particularly infuriating guests of Daki’s, should they feel the need to get close to you

HUGE enforcer of your boundaries, makes sure no one comes close enough to even share the same damn air as you unless he knows them or you tell him it’s okay

Nakime

She never knew how comforted she was by being able to even just sit with you

She gets lonely in that big, empty castle, you know? Having you beside her on slow days is a treasure

Nakime personally doesn’t know how much lots of physical contact does for her, but that’s not to say she doesn’t want you there

Even just sitting beside her on her platform in the castle, that’s what she likes, it’s minimal and enough to remind her that you enjoy the time you spend with her, enough to just sit in comfortable silence

Akaza

Hugs, hugs, more hugs

He enjoys holding you tight, specifically right to his chest, arms around your middle, head over your shoulder, keeping you away from the big bad world out there

Also gets comfort from holding your hand when he can, able to tug you close when he feels something’s up

We all know Akaza can sense bad vibes from miles away, so in general, he’s always kind of on guard, so having your hand in his basically all day brings him peace of mind

Whenever you two rest together, he likes resting his head atop yours with your face tucked into the crook of his neck, while he gently rubs your back, holding you tight, safe

Douma

What kind of physical contact does he not cherish????

He‘s unable to bear a single waking moment without you as it is, you better know he’s barely able to sit still if you're not within arms reach

“Douma, you’re holding me kinda tight…” well, you’re just gonna have to get used to it, he’s not budging

(Obviously he doesn’t push your limits!)

There’s also moments after long, frustrating days with his followers where you just know how much relief it brings him to just tug you into his arms and hide his face in your shoulder, breathing in your scent, forgetting the world for a moment

When you two sleep, he’s always huddled up close, his head on your chest, the tension in his body slowly but surely melting away as you gently card your fingers through his hair, telling him about your day, letting him listen to a voice he does want to listen to for hours and hours

Kokushibo

To his own surprise, even, he likes having you right up against him, held protectively, at all times

Yes, even his energy is enough to keep most pesky threats away, but that’s not why he keeps you so close

He gets relief in hearing your breath, feeling warmth in your skin, even just feeling the smallest movements you make, they comfort him, because you’re still there, you’re okay, and you don’t plan on going anywhere if it’s not with him

It’s instinctive, but he’ll have moments where, if he isn’t too sure about an upcoming environment, he’ll hold you tighter and pull you to his side, turning so that he has you to one side, the road ahead on his other, like a castle wall between you and anything he doesn't know is safe

Whenever he clings to you, he buries his face in your shoulder, or nuzzles into your hair a bit, things saturated in the scent of his dearest companion

He’s most peaceful when he can calmly take in your scent without it being tense, or sad, or scared, like it is when you two are out on missions, as Upper Moons

No, behind closed doors, he doesn’t want the smell of another Upper Moon that he patrols with or is currently investigating something with…he wants only the scent of the one he loves, without a care in the world

Muzan

Like Kokushibo, he finds it almost like second nature to come between you and harm

He also likes holding your hand tight, practically at all times, which surprised you at first

You first really noticed it when you two were just roaming the streets of Asakusa, and someone bumped your shoulder, which caused Muzan to nearly tug you right up to his chest the moment there was any tug on your held hands

When he works, it’s like an anchor to be able to hold you

He likes to keep you in his arms when he’s sat at his desk, and is grateful when you stand nearby and follow him when he shuffles about his workshop, always within arms reach

Sometimes, he really just needs to pull you in and hold you, taking a few shaky breaths to calm his mind and refresh before returning to his research

Sure, he’s the Demon King, but underneath that title is the heart of a man who just wants to finally be able to rest, and you give him as many moments of peace as you possibly can

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byullielle · 8 months

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Honey! Are You Coming? // Bang Chan x Idol!Reader

HONEY (ARE U COMING?), Maneskin Chan tells Y/N that he's ready to make their relationship public, but always with a flair for the dramatic, he hesitantly tells her that he wants Dispatch to do the piecing together and just keep heading out with you until a rumor starts.

Tags: Est. Relationship, Humor and Fluff, Idol!Reader, Age Gap (5 years), Paparazzi (Dispatch) Involvement, Slight Angst, Social Media Utilization, Slightly Non-Linear

Disclaimer: this is my dissertation on idols dating. sasaeng contact also appears in this. MINORS DNI.

a/n: i know the song has barely reached a week of release but come on, the song is perfect. might be revealing my maneskin addiction but its a bangin song sue me.

“Baby,” Chan places his chin atop your thigh as you hum and look away from your phone down in his direction. He looked so cute, a cat headband ready in your solo apartment now adorning his head, matching yours. His eyes are tantalizing, shiny, and absolutely filled with genius and love before he smiles, “I have something to tell you, a suggestion actually,”

There goes the mischief.

You raise a brow, now suddenly uncertain of the “suggestion” because you know Chan like the back of your hand, there’s a chance it’ll be stupid as shit.

“I think I’m ready to make our relationship public,”

A pindrop of silence blankets upon you as your breath catches on your throat. “Really?” you couldn’t help but squeak out. It was something you’ve talked about 6 months prior, right before Changbin was enlisted and he couldn’t help but turn down your offer regrettably because he thought it would impede on the moving process from dorms to personal apartments.

You accepted his decision and response wholeheartedly, because you were satisfied with the relationship either way, knowing damn well Jessica and Jack Bahng loved you and you were the other 7 kid’s assigned head noona (despite being younger than the entirety of the 00 line).

It was one of the factors that made you secure in your relationship with Chris but it was getting a bit exhausting to constantly hide behind masks and caps just to visit or hang out with him. It was a bit selfish when it came to intentions but when were you ever selfless when it came to your want for Chan?

So now that him sitting up brings you back down in reality you raise both your brows and move your head back, "Are you sure? I'm not pressuring you or anything," you immediately counter, "I hope this isn't something I pressured you to do Chan, I swear I'm fine with our current situation,"

He chuckles, cupping your face before pulling you in closer and pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. You pout at him before you feel the comforting pressure of his hand on the crown of your head, "I'm 100% sure baby, I promise," he smiles assuringly, pressing your foreheads together, "Everything is in it's place now, we can take this risk now,"

"Okay," you breathe out in relief and close your eyes. "Although," you open them up again to see an absolutely playful look in his eyes. "I have an idea,"

You hum, looking right into his eyes before he detaches his forehead from yours, instead pulling you into his arms pressed to his side like a teddy bear. "What if we give Dispatch a little game, hm?"

You couldn't help but scoff. Of course. Your boyfriend hated being boring and basic, why were you even surprised? "You're suggesting," you lean your head against his shoulder and look up, "That we head out there and wait for a dating rumor to happen?"

"So smart," he scrunches his nose at you which garners a light punch to his chest, "Don't patronize me," you scold, making him laugh a bit more. "But yeah exactly that," he affirms.

"Well you better talk to the managers for that,"

"What?" his manager nearly shoots out of his seat in surprise at the explanation before you turn to give him a 'I told you he'd be mad,' look before being shot back with 'At least your manager seems chill about it,'

You shrug and try not to shake your head too obviously.

"Actually I don't think it's half a bad idea," your manager speaks up and Chan's manager looks at her like she'd grown a second head. She throws her hands up, "I mean think about it, it's past comeback season and your other boys are in the military, they'd forget the heat in 4 months,"

"And if they don't?" Skzji questions with a cocked-up brow before your manager shrugs, "Free clout for the next comeback,"

Chan nods along, a bit impressed about being backed up because when you told her you were dating him she flipped out and you fought for nearly a week until you cried because you thought she was going to resign. Fun times.

Chan's manager seems to try and contemplate the repercussions of doing such thing. "Look at IU and Jisoo, they're doing fairly well now despite the dating revelations," she reasons out, "The fans will create a racket but let's have faith that the public would be a little bit more open-minded about it,"

"Y/N is also at risk," he throws back, "She'll be under more scrutiny compared to Chan because she's a female idol dating another idol, this is barely the same with IU and Jisoo,"

This makes you freeze up. He does have a very tangible and very correct point too—idol-to-idol dating was more delicate, especially given you and Chan's age gap, the fact that you were once co-trainees, and the demand of both you and him on fanbases, it was not the same formula as being or dating an actor.

But all in good faith. Should something backfire you're set for retirement and could simply carry on as a producer. Dating wasn't supposed to be such a locked-down, sure thing, but with your profession, it had to be.

"Are you ready to face that?" your manager looks to you with genuine concern in her eyes as you nod wordlessly. No words had to be said, the day both of you told them that you were dating she already knew every commitment you made to the relationship wasn't half-assed.

Defeated, his manager sighs and flails his hand, "Then go do what you want,"

Chan covers his lips behind his hand but you could almost feel the smile on his face. It was cute as you couldn't help but giddily slot your hands between your thighs along with lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Oh come on! There's no hiding your reactions now, you look like a bunch of schoolgirls!"

"Give them a little bit of a challenge baby, you're making this too easy," you chuckle and roll your eyes before sliding on the mask over your mouth despite Chan's pout and initial protest. "Alright point taken," he quickly concedes and grabs another mask from the glove box, "They'll probably take forever though,"

"It's mid-year, I just hope they don't fucking wait till January 1st to announce something," you sigh before looking at him with creases upturned by the corner of your eyes, "Let's go?"

He nods and you wait by the passenger's seat for him to circle around the car to open your door. He holds his hand out and you slot it through the gaps, intertwining your hands as you get pulled out of the car. He guides you to the streetwalk, hand in hand as both of you try to scan for the tteokbokki place you loved so much.

The owner is nice, an old woman who knows you're dating but doesn't know you're idols—bless her—and she's the reason both of you could go get tteokbokki all lovey-dovey cause she has never tattled so far. You even celebrated your 15th monthsary in this small, kinda run-down shop.

Both of you figured it was a good start to tip off people, after all, you never truly knew who was watching and following.

"Halmonie!" you greet happily while Chan holds the door for you. The only other occupied booth looks your way while the old woman beams and waddles towards you with her walking cane. "Aigoo, aigoo, you're both here! Sit, sit!" she immediately ushers as Chan slots hands with you again before taking a seat at the small stools, your usual booth.

"What shall I get you kids again today? The usual?"

"Sure halmonie, add rose ramyeon for us too please," Chan nods before slipping his mask off. Usually the cap would still obscure his features but all in his curly hair and barefaced glory, you were squealing in delight at how much of a great idea this was. You couldn't help but reach over and pat down a few of Chan's stray curls while he looks at you with utter adoration.

You hum and then sit back down once satisfied, smiling and nodding to yourself before Chan couldn't help but chuckle at your ministrations. "You're cute," he says with a cheek on his palm before you roll your eyes, "No you,"

"Oh?" he raises a brow and before he could retort you could feel something capture the moment. It's always been enhanced the longer you worked in the industry—the feeling of a camera pointing towards you. It was a bit invasive but nonetheless, you send Chan a knowing look before leaning forward, "You think we'd show up on twitter today?"

"Possibly," he whispers back.

"You alright with that? It isn't dispatch,"

"Yeah, but knowing them?" he scoffs and leans back, "They'll get their hands on it in no time,"

You laugh softly and shrug, "Whatever helps them not release it January 1st,"

He looks at you with an amused glint in his gaze, crossing his arms while scanning through your features properly, "You really wanna tell the world ASAP that badly huh,"

"I mean!" you start to defend yourself, a little bit flustered that Chan could read you like an open book, "It'll be fun and all but if they take too long I'm doing it my damn self,"

"4 month cut-off?" he negotiates as you nod, satisfied at the timeline given, "4 months,"

As the night progresses, both of you eat your tteokbokki, fish cakes, ramyeon and kimbap in peace, muddled in either deep or playful discussion.

And unfortunately, you two didn't trend on Twitter that night.

Foregoing masks was one thing, but showing up to the JYP building like you were part of the damn company was another. With your hair tied back, bareface on full display, only your eyes obscured by a black cap, and casual clothes on, it seemed like you were just clocking in on a work day to have a producer's meeting in JYP but fortunately, you were just there to bug your workaholic of a boyfriend.

With a box of vitamins, a takeout bag of soup, and a lunch box, along with a flask filled with water, the security greets you with a smile before handing you a visitor's pass to aid your roaming around the JYP halls. Getting to Chan was mapped out in the frontal terrains of your mind, getting there at record speed while occasionally greeting the staff passing by.

To say that this was a more liberating experience was an understatement.

Usually, Chan would have to schedule your arrival properly so that none of the staff potentially paid off my paparazzi would snitch when they see you but now it was so different because you were going to Channie and he didn't even know it. People look and stare on your way to his studio, sure that it'll definitely get some interns talking but you simply give them polite smiles and curt bows before carrying on.

You finally get to the floor of Chan's studio, humming to yourself before reaching the door and knocking. You press your head slightly to the door, listening for music in case he didn't hear the knock until you see a staff member exit the studio next door. Trying not to mind them, you knock a bit louder, hand heavier on the door before they whip their head at you and furrow their brows.

"Excuse me, are you an intern? You shouldn't be knocking that loudly against Bang Chan-ssi's studio!" she scolds which makes your brows shoot up a bit at the reprimand.

If there was Chan's Room, he'd tell you for sure and you'd already be watching the broadcast. His next formal recording doesn't happen in this studio specifically and last time you recall you've garnered specific rights to interrupt him—girlfriend rights and all.

You couldn't help but sheepishly scoff, "Oh I'm not an intern," you respond, feeling the heat rise up your neck a bit before she starts approaching you with a bit of an annoyed gait to her.

Just in time, Chan opens the door to his studio. "Y/N-ah?!" he greets with ample surprise and thrill in his voice.

"Brought you stuff!" you excitedly hold up the things in your hand as the staff member comes to a halt.

"Chan-ssi, you know this woman?" she questions, accusatory with a finger pointed to you. Chan simply chuckles and gently takes the brim of your cap and slide it off your head with utmost care, "She's my girlfriend Kim-ssi, it's all good," he smiles as she drops her jaw in shock.

In all fairness you DID look like a stalker with the cap on.

"Oh my... I'm terribly sorry," she bows before you laugh and wave your hand to dismiss it, "It's alright. I hope you have a good day," you bid before Chan lets you in the studio. "What do I owe the visit to baby? This is such a surprise!" he beams and gives you a bone crushing hug.

"Well that's the goal!" you giddily hug back, relishing in his warmth and scent. You close your eyes, absolutely enamored by his presence.

"Seems like you needed some boyfriend time, yeah?"

"Nuh-uh, other way around," you jokingly frown and scrunch your brows while pulling away from the hug, "You need girlfriend time," you point at his chest before turning to the food you brought, "And something for your stomach,"

He couldn't help but smile fondly at the array of things laid on his table, "Really, thank you baby, I appreciate it so much,"

"I know," you giggle and reach out for his cheeks, cupping them before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips, slow and relishing, "Now go eat first so that I can kiss you silly,"

"Channie!" you shoot off the couch as he jolts up in shock, taking off his earphones before humming and looking at you with concern-laced eyes. But once he sees the excitement on your face, he smiles and chuckles at the message.

"Well," he huffs in amusement, "Finally some of them decided to move,"

"Wanna go out for a walk?" he suggests.

You hum, entertaining the idea before your eyes flit back to the screen of your computer, the spliced chords only staring back at you in ridicule as you hit a very hard slump.

Without any hint of a lie; the recent Dispatch article did pressure you a bit to work harder on your own group's next comeback because you had to have some sort of fallback from all the backlash you were getting. The hate was still relatively tame, but you knew it was going to double over once the real announcement was made.

So yes, you did want to go out for a walk, but you also wanted to keep your ass planted to your chair. You look to Chan who was patiently waiting for your response, miraculously out of his studio and instead stuck in yours. "I think I'll...pass first Channie I gotta get this down first," you mumble against your frown before facing the equipment once more. "I've been watching you for the past two hours," he sighs and takes both arm rests of the swivel chair, pulling it towards him before gently lifting your chin towards his direction—so that you two were eye to eye.

You found, as the relationship progressed, that both yours and Chan's eyes were so expressive, so vulnerable, and it became a reoccurring habit to just look into them with all intent and you'd find the secrets of the world laid inside. Your world, at east.

"What's bothering you?"

"I..." you hesitate, making you sigh and roll your eyes in self-ridicule, "I guess I'm just bracing myself for the fall, is all," you shrug, "I really wanna do it, I'm just a bit scared that if I don't do good on the next album they'd find another way to dogpile on me once our relationship gets out,"

Chan frowns, moving his hands from your chin to your hands, gently ushering you to stand before he guides your legs up against his' so that you're facing him directly, lips so close you could almost taste the Carmex off it. "I'm not about to tell you that you could call it off because you'd punch me," he jokes a bit before caressing the skin on the lower part of your cheek, "But honey I hope you don't start beating yourself up over this, alright? You aren't alone in this," he reassures, almost begs for you to believe in his words. To believe in him.

And you do. You really, really do.

"You'll always have me by your side. If they dogpile on you then I'll do my best to defend you from that," he presses a slight peck on your lips, "I promise,"

A feeling of warmth radiates in your chest, a small yet genuine smile finally making onto your face. The burden on your shoulder wasn't completely gone and washed off, but the assurance of a safety net, of someone to go home too was definitely helping lighten the load. You wanted to say so much, and none of the words were properly coordinating in your head so instead, you just take his hands and push down.

Your lips slot together, properly this time, while your arms find their way around his neck. You both stay pressed, stay so close while your tongues slip and lock together. The warmth of his lips are heavenly against yours, the velvety feel paired with his slick and delectable tongue—you were hooked.

His hands remain steady on your cheeks, calloused thumb gently running on your jaw before both of you have to break away for air. "Thank you, Channie," you manage to breathlessly state as he chuckles and nods, "Now...for that walk?"

Groaning, you throw your head back in exasperation, his hands now on your back to prevent you from falling out of the cramped chair, "Oh come on," you whine before he chuckles.

"Air would do your brain good baby,"

You gasp in feigned disbelief, "Are you implying my brain isn't functioning?!"

"Exactly," he cheekily smiles, "You wanted to do your best didn't you? Go on a walk with me,"

"Ulterior motives are never gone unnoticed you sly fox," you roll your eyes but ultimately concede and get off the chair, immediately grabbing his jacket which was hanging off from the swivel chair.

"Hey," he scolds with no bite to his tone, an amused smile permanently etched on his face, "That's my jacket,"

"Then freeze," you stick your tongue out, childish and petty before he shakes his head, pulling out the extra hoodie he has brought for yourself and slots his fingers through your's, walking hand in hand as the both of you leave the warm comfort of the studio.

"Y/N-ssi," a voice startles you as you jolt up in shock and see a figure emerge from the shadowy corner of the parking lot. "Who the hell are you," your voice doesn't waver in question, ready to set off the staff-specific alarm that could reach the security headquarters of the company.

"Calm down, miss idol, I'm just a journalist," he raises his hands in surrender as he approaches you, while you take a step back in each step he takes forward. "Stay there," you command. "What do you want?" you speak loudly, the distance between you a bit far but not enough to provide you with peace of mind.

He reaches into his pocket and brings out a few pictures, sliding it towards you making it skid on the floor, landing by your foot as you hesitantly look down not even bothering to pick it up. Your heart races a bit. It was quite the picture, and you aren't sure where the hell it was taken but you knew when. "I suppose you can connect that I know who your speculated male idol "friend" is," he starts to speak as you hold the urge to roll your eyes.

"And what exactly are you going to do with this information?" you challenge, raising a brow at him, "Oh the ususal, make sure all of Korea know that you're dating the one and only Bang Chan," he chuckles, "Imagine the noise that'll make,"

'Bingo,' pops into your head, almost unable to hold back your smile. "Go ahead," you shrug, "Let's see who'll be the villains of their stories," you turn your heel to leave the pictures on the floor, rushing to your car as he stands there very speechlessly, dumbfounded to what just happened.

You had faith in your fans. In STAY. And those who would do otherwise weren't fans of yours, nor of Chan's. It'll all be alright, you keep repeating to yourself.

Right after you get the fuck out of the parking lot. You've got some news to tell Chan.

"What?! Did he hurt you?!" his concerned voice rings through your ears as you sigh and lean your arms against the balcony of your apartment, "I'm fine baby, I promise," you assure him, "In hindsight I knew that was dangerous but I lucked out,"

"Lucked out?! You could've called me! Or anyone!"

"I'm fine now Chan, I promise," you run your fingers through your hair, "Although it seems like our number one concern here is when the news would be released,"

Seemingly taking a moment to recollect his bearings, you patiently wait for his response, "Alright, hit me with it,"

"I think he was about to ask me for money, I told him to go on ahead and release the picture," you nervously gnaw on your lower lip, "Should...should we start telling the company heads?"

"We definitely should baby, this is such crucial information," he says with his "leader voice" as you called it—ever so reliable and ever so stern—"And what's more crucial is the fact that you got into a paparazzi altercation alone,"

"Alright, alright, I'll tell them that too," you groan with slight annoyance. Chan loved to dote on you, was overly protective, and the fact that he had a point wasn't sitting well with you given your already prominent anxieties. "I'm not trying to nag! I'm just concerned over the welfare and safety of my girlfriend is that so much to see to?"

"Of course not," your pitch goes a bit higher, a bit whiny. "Of course not, I know you aren't trying to nag," you reiterate a little bit softly now, not wanting to fight with Chan over this.

It seems to placate him too, "Okay, I'll let it go for now too. What matters is that you're safe," he matches your soft tone, "But for the love of god don't ever do that again,"

"Yes, Christopher, I won't," you promise, no ounce of sarcasm or spite in your tone.

"Are you worried?" he asks. And you take a moment to answer. "Yes..."

"Okay. Okay, I'll be right there after my schedules," he in turn also promises, a sigh of relief escaping you because you were starting to get jittery over everything, "I'll have to go. I'll see you later baby,"

"Bye babe," you bid, "I love you,"

"I love you too, my baby,"

"Something tells me you wanted to do it to terrorize Dispatch," you chuck your phone to the side and smile at Chan who simply shrugs his shoulder with a sly smile, "Maybe they'd hate to have us after all,"

"I highly doubt they'd leave us alone," you crawl up the bed and plop yourself down on top of his body, garnering a grunt from the man. "They never really did, haven't they,"

"More on you, less on me baby," he presses his lips together before looking down at you, "Which in itself, is regrettable,"

"You get used to it," you hum and close your eyes, relishing in the warmth of his bare torso, "Thank you, Chris," you start as he hums and starts running his fingers through your hair. "Whatever for baby?"

"Everything," you simply state, opening your eyes again only to see the most sickening, fondest look from Chan. You could feel yourself getting emotional, heartstrings tugged and torn off your chest as the lump in your throat grow heavier. And suddenly you're crying.

"Y/N?" Chan worriedly sits up and wipes off your tears before pressing you further into his body, head cradled in his hand while he soothingly rubs your shoulder on the other, "What's wrong my love why are you crying?" he panics before you let out a wet chuckle, "I'm sorry, I just got...I dunno," you wipe your tears away with a slight feeling of sheepishness in your veins. "I guess I got too happy, like the anxiety from the past 3 months are just starting to go away," you explain to him as a relieved breath escapes him.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Very," you look up at him with teary and shiny eyes, hoping that all the love threatening to burst at the seams inside you would translate to how you look. And you have a feeling that it does because he gently raises your jaw towards him and presses a tender kiss on your lips, immediately slipping his tongue for entrance as you gladly let him in.

It's short, curt, yet continuous kisses. Departing every half a second only to dive back down, deliciously loving and sweet as both of your breathings fall in sync against the silence of his room, orange and yellow hues from his lights dancing around dimly. It wasn't as magical, but it was comforting, and it was home.

"I love you so much Y/N," he proclaims in a whisper against your lips, like a secret vow as you hum and give him another short peck. "I love you most, Christopher,"

"Nuh-uh,"

"Fuck you mean nuh-uh," you laugh before leaning your head against his shoulder, a sigh of relief and decompression punched out of you. "Comeback season would be so different now,"

"Mhm," he keeps his gentle touches on your shoulder going, rubbing lightly, "The questions about you that I'd love to answer," he grins to himself making you giggle like a giddy school girl.

You both knew there were more of the invasive and inappropriate questions but hey, being an idol is fun when the people around you aren't assholes. Just like a normal 9 to 5.

"Oh the birthday stories I've been waiting to post," you tease, holding up his stash of less flattering pictures over his head as he rolls his eyes, "Oh two can play,"

"I'm photogenic I slay every angle," you retort. "You didn't date me for nothing,"

"Ah boo," he lazily responds before turning to you, "By the way, what if like, magazine outlets start to contact us?"

"Maybe let's wait another year to do activities together," you suggest, "More suspenseful that way,"

"True,"

You prop your hand up his chest and lay on your stomach, facing him, "But If you had to choose which outlet, what would it be?"

"The Korea Herald," he replies before you snort out a laugh, "I guess the Chan is 5 years older, here's what it does to their relationship articles aren't wrong,"

Looking at you scandalized he pinches your side making you let out a yelp. "I'm not that old! I'm just saying it's more reliable than Dispatch!"

"Sure old man," you roll your eyes at him, "I'd wanna do one with Bazaar,"

"With the photoshoot and everything?"

"Hey it isn't so bad to shoot high for power couple status,"

"Are you implying we aren't a power couple now?"

The cameras flash against your eyes as you flinch a bit, about to put a hand over your eyes but Chan beats you to it, one hand over your shades and another on the brim of his cap. The reporters are shouting their questions at you, a little bit overwhelming and deafening but sure as hell your guards are letting them get a little too close.

"Suyin-ah! Does it bother you that Bang Chan is 5 years older?"

"Suyin-ah, if you've been dating for long aren't you guys tired?"

"Bang Chan-ah, out of all the pretty girls in your company why go for LLCE?"

"Bang Chan! Was Baby written for Suyin-ah?"

All invasive, nothing ever good. A grunt escapes you as Chan holds you closer looking down at you in concern while the guards try to make way for the both of you, "You alright there?"

"Never been better," you grimace with sarcasm before hearing a question that piques your interest, partly moving away from Chan to seek out the person who threw that question. "Suyin-ah, don't you think dating as a K-Pop idol is hopeless?"

You reach out, one of the security personnel doing you a favor to hand you the small mic of the journalist before pressing it near to your face, "I don't think so. Because at the end of the day Chan and I love our fans just the same, sharing our personal lives won't change that," you reason out, "Both of us would still continue to make music for our fans and cherish them all," you answer, short and profound before you could hear Chan's voice call out to you, finally able to form a path towards your building.

"Honey! Are you coming?" he shouts through the shouting crowds of reporters. You immediately step back, hurriedly heading to his direction, slipping your hands together before walking into the company hand in hand.

"What'd you say?" he questions once the glass doors close. You strip off your mask and beam up at him cheekily, "You'll see,"

i took the liberty of giving Y/N a stage name for the sake of making the tweets a bit more comprehensive. Suyin is derived from S/N, which is stage name. i just added a few more letters to it.

#skz #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #idol!reader #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #christopher bang #chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #skz smau #stray kids smau

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stayfortwominutes · 8 months

Text

📝 what's yours is mine | bangchan

disclaimers; tiny inkling of suggestive humour, written from third person perspective, petnames, insecurity, self doubt, descriptions of reader's body as "soft". no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing; bang chan x female reader

synopsis; you're the other half of chan's heart as he is to yours.

content; fluff, comfort, married/established relationship, slight angst, sprinkle of humour | word count; 1.4 k

it was nights like these.

when y/n could feel the calm, persistent rise and fall of her husband’s unclad chest pressing against her back. a loving warmth radiates from chan, seeping into her being, and enveloping her entirety in a blanket of comfort and security. the feeling of his fervent kisses he placed against the length of her neck earlier still linger. the couple lay together, limbs intertwined. chan’s right arm hooked under the curve of y/n’s waist; his sly, wandering fingers slithered underneath her singlet and rested against the soft, plush of her abdomen. right then and there, y/n prays for a greater divine entity to make time stand still, so she can continue to relish his doting embrace. her heart swells with utter delight, and a tinge of delirium ー a result of the late hours of the evening that she finds herself awake at.

y/n reaches for chan’s other hand, his arm slung lazily over her hip. she fiddles with the thin, silver bracelet adorning his wrist. the bracelet she gifted him over two years prior - inscribed on the inside plate, a few words: what’s yours is mine. although cliche, the idiom became a phrase the pair often recited to each other.

she chuckles softly to herself, reminiscing on the defining moment in their journey to marriage.

“honey, please look at me…” chan pleads as he kneels before y/n, who sits on their small couch with an absent gaze fixed to the opposite wall of their apartment. she’s teary-eyed with her bottom lip in a pout.

she continues to stubbornly avoid his eyes. he brings his thumb and index to her chin, guiding her face to meet his. chan leans forward, y/n is drawn to his wide brown orbs that beckon her attention, holding a profound reassurance as they stare back at her. the silent communication between the pair has y/n lurching forward into chan’s arms, nestling her face into his shoulder as child-like wails escape her.

“i-i didn’t think they’d see me. i’m so sorry, channie. i don’t want to break up, but i don’t want them to hurt you. i don’t want th-them to be mad at you.”

the flurry of fears spew from his girlfriend as she clings to his frame, whilst chan consolingly pats her back. everything begins to click in his head. earlier that day, the couple were called to the company, where his manager broke the news of their exposure to the public. an array of headlines decorated the homepages of various news sites, mostly presenting their relationship in a scandalous, negative manner.

y/n was very quiet, and appeared understanding, but on their way home, a sense of distance and tension had begun festering between them.

“baby, you did nothing wrong. they were going to find out about us sooner or later. you mean the world to me. i won’t let anything happen to you. if they’re my fans, they’ll be happy for me.” chan gently affirms y/n as he cradles her fragile, exhausted body.

“up we go,” he announces, tucking his arms under y/n’s knees and around her shoulders to gather her into a bridal-style hold. chan carefully walks them to their shared bedroom, placing her delicately on the edge of the bed. once again, his girlfriend’s gaze is downcast, her shoulder slump with the weight of great sorrow as she sniffles trying to hold back the stinging tears that prick at her eye line.

chan uses this opportunity to hastily rummage through his backpack hanging off a hook on the back of the bedroom door. he's careful to conceal the small velvet box in his pocket. taking a seat next to y/n on the bed, his left arm encases her shoulders and brings her head to rest against him.

“i wasn’t going to say it like this, but the timing couldn’t be any better,” he nervously starts, feebly scratching at his clavicle. chan takes y/n’s left hand in his, caressing the back of her palm, rubbing faint soothing circles in hopes to assuage her anxieties. y/n senses the shift in his demeanour, her breath hitching in her throat in anticipation for the worst; she had a tendency to spiral, and she begins to mentally prepare herself for him to deliver the three dreadful words: “let’s break up-” but he doesn’t.

“let’s get married-” y/n swallowed, her head tilted slightly back to prevent the salty tears that welled up. a volcano threatening to erupt, they began to freefall without a care, her trembling hands cover her eyes as she hurriedly move out of his firm hold.

“i don’t want to say goodbye to what we have, but if it’s for the best, i’ll do anything for you, chan.”

“woah, woah! baby, slow down. retract that, come back to me.” y/n stands in front of him, as the reality washes over her. with her mouth agape, she studies his face. chan’s lips are plastered with a smile, but his brows furrow at the unexpected rejection. he peers at her face painted with disbelief, before breaking into a laugh.

“did you think i was breaking up with you?” his hands reach out to y/n, residing on either side of her hips to position her in between his knees. y/n’s hands come to rest on his shoulders and she doesn’t break eye contact with him. her eyes conveying a message of uncertainty, and chan receives that as a sign to continue his previous spiel.

“no matter what anyone says,” he interlaces one of his hands with y/n’s and peppers several featherlike kisses to her knuckles, “you are my world. your happiness is my happiness, your sadness is my sadness, and your love is my love. i don’t want to face the world alone anymore.” tears again pool in her eyes, not from apprehension, but pure joy and adoration over chan’s heartfelt confession.

“i’m not that special, m-maybe one day you’ll wake up and realise you settled for me over your dream…” y/n was not one to express her self doubts openly to chan, and those words evoke a protective side in him; confident to prove her worth to him.

chan scoffs, “settle? that might be how you see it, but i’ve had the pleasure of knowing you for years, and you’ve only given me more reasons to love life. i’m convinced i’ve loved you in a past lifetime, and we’re reuniting again to continue that same love. let me be the one to teach you all things to love about you. whatever problems arise, we’ll solve them together." y/n grew speechless, hearing chan profess such deep feelings broke down her walls of insecurity, his words were an emergence of light nearing the end of a dark tunnel.

"you are my dream."

chan's gaze holds a degree of fondness that has y/n crumbling into his arms, her knees buckle and she falls forward, pinning him against the mattress. the action alone flusters both of them as they blush in unison, red blooming from chan’s neck all the way up to his ears as a wildfire of pink spans across y/n’s cheeks.

“getting down to business already, mulan?” chan shyly bites, breaking the tense atmosphere between them.

“speak for yourself, i felt that.” y/n abashedly retorts as she straightens herself to stand up, and chan is quick to fish the velvet box from his pocket before raising his hands in the air.

“i'm innocent!” laughter erupts from the pair as chan engulfs y/n in a joyous hug.

“that’s a yes though, right?” he pulls back and y/n nods profusely, “yes in this lifetime, and in the next.”

chan stands, his arms encircle y/n’s waist as he captures her lips with his; molding together perfectly in reciprocal affection and devotion.

the memory sets y/n’s heart ablaze as excitement courses through her veins. consumed by the need to feel even closer than they impossibly were, y/n untucks his hand from beneath her singlet to turn over and cuddle further into her husband’s hold.

chan stirs, a hazy smile dances on his lips, “comfortable, baby?” he mumbles, sleep dripping from each word.

“always in your arms, my prince. i love you,” y/n replies, reverently pressing a soft peck to his lips.

consider reading more: masterlist

notes; i finally pieced together the prompt, after rewriting it and revising it over the past few days. i can't say i feel like the outcome matched my original idea. i was definitely not surprised bang chan won the poll for a comfort fic. thank you once again to everyone who votes, leaves nice comments and reblogs; you're all greatly appreciated. i hope you enjoyed this piece too! © stayfortwominutes ; august 27, 2023.

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notroosterbradshaw · 7 months

Text

My Father's Eyes - prologue

about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.

You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore.

You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.

"One more drink," your co-workers begged.

"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.

And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home -

But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised.

Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy -

The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.

Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.

Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out.

That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go -

You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint.

The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.

But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way.

Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.

“ - Hangman is blonder - "

" - suave Coyote was - "

"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."

"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”

You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her.

But no mention of Bradley.

"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.

Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.

Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...

And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.

"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him.

And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble.

You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.

And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room.

Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it.

He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time.

Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.

As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety.

"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were.

The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares.

You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching.

...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy.

And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG.

And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.

"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley.

"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.

And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs.

"You still livin' around here?"

You gave a soft nod. "Yeah."

"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."

"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"

"My whites?" he asked.

"I saw you come in."

"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.

"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of."

Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.

"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."

"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.

"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.

Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply.

"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.

"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."

"Fleeting."

"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."

"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time.

Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine.

Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.

Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.

"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers.

You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley.

"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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amnignsity · 20 days

Text

More too love...

Bahng Christopher Chan x Chubby!Reader.

Contains of insecurities, self-downing, jealousy, angst/comfort, words of affirmation, reassurance, and just full on channie being whipped.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ૮₍´｡ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ｡`₎ა ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You look at the pictures of your boyfriend with another model - hands over her waist and they smiled into the camera. The theme was perfect couple, of course Chan being the greenest flag a man could ever be was chosen by the photographer.

Not only that but the man was absolutely divine to look at - his cresent eye dimpled smile was one of the things people love about the man. His sense of responsibility and care for his members of course.

The way he is as a leader leading everyone to a path they belonged too to shine brighter than anyone else envisions them to be.

You could understand why everyone would want someone like him - although what you couldn't understand as to why anyone would want you.

You sighed feeling your eyes getting wet as the tears formed you turned off your phone leaving it on the bed as you stood up naking your way towards the bathroom - You bit your lip as you stood infront of the mirror eyes glancing at your figure.

Big chubby arms, round face, big tummy, thunder thighs - you just looked to much for yourself as the tears flowed down your face sniffling while crying even as to shaming yourself for being so ugly and chubby when you have the most perfect boyfriend with his perfect body.

You're fat.

Ugly.

Look at how big your stomach is.

Look at how round your face is.

Look at how-

Before the voices continued you could hear the bathroom door open making you snap your neck towards it as you are met with a worried Chan who just got home from work you didn't even hear him coming in.

"Princess?...My love are you okay-....Why are you crying?!.." Chan asks very worried as he opens the door gently making his way over towards you quickly holding your face with his own hands as he wipes your tears away.

You let out hiccups as you opened your mouth wanting to say something but not being able to and just letting out a sob instead - earning an even more worried look from chan who seems to be having his own eyes glossy the more he looks at you crying.

You couldn't help it and you couldn't help the sobs that fell out of your mouth the moment Chan held you closer against him - feeling so disgusted at yourself for being close to him. You glanced at the mirror seeing how his hands are over you body holding you so tightly against him.

He gently caresses your back placing your head over his shoulders as you cried on it - you didn't understand why Chan would even allow you to cry on his shoulders, to cry on him. You were nothing compared to the man who build himself up from countless of haters.

"Princess you're making me worry alot...I don't like seeing you cry you know how much it hurts for me when even a tiny ache is present from you..." He utters under his breath as he pressed kisses over your cheeks so tenderly and gently - placing his hands over your thighs as he lifts you up so easily you quickly grab hold of him not wanting to fall and still crying over his shoulders.

"My princess is crying...And I don't know why...What do you want, princess?..." He asks as he gently places you over towards your shared bed - pulling away from you while you looked at him confused with tears falling down your face onto the ground as he kneels infront of you grabbing hold of your hands as he squeezes them ever so gently pressing a kiss over your knuckles while he looks up at you.

"Tell me please...I'll do anything...Just to see that beautiful smile once again...Do you want more kisses, my love?...More time with me? More of something...Please..Tell me and I'll do it, my dear..." He begged reaching out for you as he held your face wiping the extra tears that fell - you couldn't help but felt your heart skipping a beat at the man who was begging for you to tell him what upsets you.

You breath in shakingly while Chan intertwines both of your hands together with his as he looks up at you with glossy eyes - lips parting as you spoke.

"Chan...why..." You bit your lip as you fight the urge to let out a another sob while chan's chest felt another sting against his beating heart - he gulps lips shaky as he looks at you confused.

"What do you mean, princess?...What do you mean by 'why'?..." He asks softly still kneeling infront of you while caressing your hands with his thumb - he loves the way your hands are intertwined with his.

"Why...why me?...why me out of everyone..." You asked clenching your jaw as you let even more droplets of tears flow down your cheeks while Chan gave you a bewildered look as you continued.

"Chan...Christopher...I'm nothing...I'm not pretty...Nothing...I'm not even talented...so why would you chose me-" Before you could continue Chan leans in kissing you with his eyes closed and frowning - gently pushing you down the bed while you cried, slowly closing your eyes but stopping as you felt warm tears dripping down your cheeks.

It wasn't yours but Chans he was crying, crying at something, at your words that you so hurtfully said towards yourself - he pulls away slowly opening his own teary eyes that immediately connects with your gaze.

"Who told you that...Who told you that you were nothing when infact your more world than the entire universe is worth." He said frowning holding your face as you both look at each other - you with a surprised expression staring at his hurted expression.

"Who told you that your talentless when all I see is a woman who's more gifted than anyone else I've ever seen...Someone so pretty that she makes me thank the heavens from the very moment I wake up seeing your face sleeping so comfortably on my arms as I wished to stay in that moment till the ends of my time." He let's out a sob leaning up as he gives your forehead a kiss.

"The most lovely woman I've ever seen before my own mother and even more so my sister...My faithful partner who holds me so closely whenever I breakdown from working too much.." He presses another kiss over your left cheek.

"My lover who's so beautiful that sometimes I can't even think or utter a word while you laugh at my dumb dad jokes despite them being so unfunny I wish that I could rewind time when I haven't told you yet to save myself from embarrassment." He let's out a shaky chuckle with a sob after as he cried even more so pressing another kiss over your right cheek.

"My princess who holds me so tightly against her arms telling me to sleep while I listen to her heartbeat that quickens ever so fast for me helping me overcome my insomnia at times.." He presses another kiss over your nose as he gently caresses your cheeks.

"And my beloved who gives me all her time and attention whenever I'm feeling silly despite being so tired from work every time. Still giving me her affection, words, kisses, cuddles, herself..." He pressed one last final kiss over your lips as he looks directly in your eyes.

"Tell me my dear...who told those lies that towards you, my most important person that I could ever have met from out of the eight billion people alive.." He gulps as he looks at you so brokenhearted with your words - you could feel your face warm up at his gaze so loving towards you and specifically only for you.

"I-..." You tried to speak but you couldn't not when you know no one told you but yourself. The shame you feel as you know you shouldn't even be thinking of those things but you couldn't help it not when this disgusting jealousy and insecurity was growing inside you.

"I'm...sorry..." You uttered that's all you said looking away from him while he looks at you filled with concern - slightly gulping as he sighed.

"I'm not telling you to apologize, princess...I'm asking who told you those lies...Is it one of those haters?...Friends?Family?.." He asked nuzzling his face against your neck while you gently placed your hands over his head slowly running your hands through his hair as he sighed deeply so contented with your touches.

"I...No...it wasn't the, Chan...It was me.. It's stupid...I was feeling jealous over your latest photoshoot and..." You bit your lips as you shakingly took a deep breath in while Chan listened.

"You looked so perfect with her..." Chan let out a whine of protest at your words quickly making you look back again at him who had a frown while you had a sadden look.

"What?... Me perfect with another woman?.." Chan huffed shaking his head as he buried his face against your neck.

"No... I do not accept the terms and agreement with your words, princess...Did I leave you alone for a long time to make you think like this?.." He pressed kisses over your neck - he didn't like that, he didn't like the words you used nor what you thought about his latest photoshoot made you feel.

"I knew I should've decline it considering my princess felt this way about it afterwards..." You let out a soft moan against his sudden nibbling against your neck - kissing you so much, giving you so much of his love.

"I don't want you to ever say those words again, princess...I'm perfect with you and only you my dear...Please..I'm sorry for making you feel that way..." He mutters against your neck - giving you even more love than you imagined him to do. You couldn't help but let out a sob at his loving while he quickly looks up and holds your face worried.

"Why are you crying again, princess? Did I accidentally bit too hard? Was I overstimulating you? I'm sorry princess...I just wanted you to feel my love-... mhmm.." Before you could let him finish you kissed him back immediately making him melt against your lips as he closes his eyes - you couldn't help but chuckle at his antics.

You pulled away making Chan snap out of his dazed moment cause by those addictive lips of yours letting out a chuckle making Chan's heart do flips.

"I'm fine, my love..." Chan swore he heard the church bells ringing when he finally heard you say his nickname once more - so sweet over your already sweeten lips.

"You just...gosh your the most best thing to ever happen in my life..." You uttered not having alot of words to say about your feelings but the way you held his face and look over his eyes made him feel so giggly hiding his face against your neck while you huffed chuckling at his actions.

"If you continue saying those words I might marry you, princess..."

"..."

"hehehe...."

"...I don't mind.."

"..."

"...hmm?..."

"Let's get married.Now."

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Author's note: Helo! I got this from reading a blog about chubby readers! I don't remember what it said but it's about skz not being into chubby people or something and them defending that that's probably not true which I totally agree - we don't really know much about skz's types so we shouldn't assume things.

I didn't have much thought into making this hence why it's a bit messy but I'll make sure next times more clear.

For my chubby people! I seriously need help cause I've been craving on carrying my chubby people like a princess ¦D.

ᯓᡣ𐭩Mxlist°

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520cafe · 4 months

Text

sour grapes. try again

“i’m still mad at you.”

“i know.”

the rays of the silver moon’s faint glow shines a cast amongst the concrete pavement; with the starry black sky painting in a choir of constellations that are accompanied by the airy dreamlike clouds. you and dan heng resided on the nearby benches of the isolated park, surrounded by a field of ethereal flowers ranging from many different types and colours in an intricate pattern.

it was after a moment in the arcade when dan heng insisted on buying you a drink from the cafe. and due to his further persistence, he bought you a comforting cup of hot chocolate instead of the cold drink that you wanted — due to his concerns about your throat in this bitterly chilly night.

while there was a silence blanketing the both of you, it was a type of silence that was comfortable and you would not mind spending with someone dear to you. despite doing nothing and just sitting on the bench as the breeze sways by, it was peaceful.

“come on [name], it’s getting late. we should get going.”

dan heng was the first one to stand up from the bench. he turned to you, his sapphire-like eyes gazing at you tenderly as he reached a hand out for you to hold, offering to help you stand up.

“ugh, and it’s too early for me.” you complained, leaning back and resting your head on the bench. “kafka is probably awake and i don’t think i’m in the mood to deal with her antics this time.”

your ears were met with a soft yet deep melody-like voice as dan heng chuckled at your remark. there was also a small part of him that lit up with contentment in which you would rather be with him than your own roommate.

as dan heng continued to stare at you, the way you were comfortably leaning your head and back on the bench, it was as if another spark ignited in him. and an idea appeared in his mind. if you were not up for kafka’s antics, how about what dan heng has hidden up his mind in order to catch you off guard?

with your eyes closed and your body relaxed, your eyes started to flutter open when the evening breeze whistles around you once more. this was now dan heng’s chance.

stepping closer in front of you, dan heng suddenly leaned towards to your body, his tall stature hovering over yours casting a dark shadow. before you could even protest and stand up, he rested his hand right beside your head in close proximity, preventing you from moving and almost trapping you in place. you could catch the amused and almost cunning smirk that tugged from the corner of his lips, feeling satisfied by his own actions.

“are you not feeling tired yet, [name]?”

dan heng’s husky and calming voice only further put you into an unresponsive trance. his actions were so sudden yet teasing and playful, like he was trying to taunt and get a reaction from you.

surprised crossed your face as you noted his half-lidded eyes that gazed lovingly at you. your lips were ever so slightly agape, as if you wanted to say something but even your voice got stuck in your throat. you felt confined in his intense yet affirming stare, and it did not take long for warmth to rush into your face.

carefully observing your star-stricken reaction, dan heng lightly laughed to himself once more, feeling amused by your reaction, before he finally leaned back and removed his hand from the bench. he was starting to act as if he did not do anything, and that he was innocent for such a crime.

“still, being inside in the warm with your roommate is much preferable then being outside in the cold—”

“unbelievable!— you!”

before dan heng could even respond, you interrupted his words as you swiftly stood up from the bench in a frantic. dan heng could easily sense the shakiness in your voice, a clear indicator of your flustered state that he had always found so adorable and endearing. this moment between the two of you, it was as if you had never broken up in the first place.

everything felt natural.

however, it did not take long for you to begin storming away from dan heng in a hurry to not deal with anymore of his antics and tricks. it was obvious to dan heng though, he knew that you were not mad, and it made him fall in love with you again for who-knows how many times it had been already.

“good night, dan heng!”

“[name], don’t just rush off! we literally live in the same building..”

🍇 SOUR GRAPES 〈 30 try again

━━ MASTERLIST. ╱ PREV. ╱ NEXT.

╰► SYNOPSIS. after being in the same tight-knit friend group for over a few months now, suspicions begin to rise when march, seele and bronya start to notice the awkward tensions between you and dan heng. little did they know, you and dan heng were once high-school sweethearts who shared a romantic and fairytale-like past where the pages only lasted for a year. this heartbreak led you to meet another unfortunate victim of cupid but that chapter flew away as quick as stardust. yet, it appears that you two were also destined to cross paths once more.

╰► [ a/n ] : and with that, act three has officially started WOOOO !! so close yet so far to the finishing line ~

━━ TAGLIST (closed) @lauvwar-r @sunsethw4 @shizu-c @amyena @zephestia @loudeggbananaranch @lunavixia @twistedrxses @shinjuuz @danhenglovebot @flos-veritatis @sammy-hammy @kiwidoves @aeongiies @heartswonder @lilactaro @lunnaeclipse @bladesdarling @hansel-the-pierrot @astro-pioneer @aquatikk @obervation-subject-753 @vellichxrr6782 @rubberduckieyourtheone @viovya @stayriki @ceylestia @starryeyedkoko @theflameofyoursoul @kalims @liminalimmortal

#🍇 ━━ SOUR GRAPES !#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #honkai star rail smau #hsr smau #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr fanfic #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

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tokkiasficlets · 5 months

Text

“Hey, wait,” Lucy called from behind them, prompting the trio to stop walking and turn to face her, where they were met with their friend bracing the wall with one hand and slipping her heels off with the other. “My feet hurt…”

Gray and Erza continued down the street once she had removed her shoes and tottered to catch up with them, but Natsu waited behind, holding his hand out expectantly. She looked up at him, confused for a moment before she realised what he was offering, where she then promptly passed her shoes over to him to carry.

“Thank you.”

She was still a little wobbly without the shoes, but she was much faster without the ache of the arch impairing her. They hadn’t had much to drink, but considering how much of a lightweight she could be, he wouldn’t be surprised if that had contributed.

Their decision to head home early was reaffirmed when Lucy let out a yawn, soft and squeaky, not much unlike a kitten, and Natsu quietly laughed at how uncanny it was.

Even as he slowed his pace, she still struggled to keep up with him, so when he reached out his hand for her to grab, she took it quickly. Their fingers comfortably intertwined, and she pulled herself closer, wrapping her arm around his, resting her head against his shoulder.

The feeling of her sudden closeness caused his heart to skip a beat or two. That seemed to be happening around her a lot, as of late. A pleasant warmth spread from his heart to every single nerve ending in his body, and suddenly all he could think about was how he never wanted her to let go.

“You okay?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle and sickly-sweet, the way it only ever was with her.

Sleepily, she nodded her head against his arm, letting out a small murmur of affirmation that Natsu surmised to mean, okay, just tired.

“You want me to walk you back to yours?”

Lucy didn’t answer, merely squeezing his arm tighter to get her answer across.

Natsu thought he understood what she meant.

Together, they walked in content silence for just a little bit longer before Lucy finally mustered the energy to speak.

“Can you stay?” She murmured, her voice so quiet that he wasn’t sure he heard it at all.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I can do that.”

#nalu #natsu x lucy #fanfiction #mya writes things

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carnal-lnstinct · 5 months

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☆☆ Pairing: Toji x Reader ☆☆ Content: ( fluff, comfort fic, established relationship, reader is Megumi's mother, 4-year-old Megumi, bedtime story ) ☆☆ A/N: I always thought my first Toji fic was going to be nasty af but now I just want him to have his family with all the softness they deserve ♥.

Megumi peeked through the crack of the door into his parent’s room, his small silhouette obscuring some of the light from the hallway. He brightened the room further upon slipping through the door and then closing it partially behind him, wandering over to the bed. He approached the smaller blanketed lumps and stood there for a moment as he contemplated the best way to wake up his mother. As he reached up with both hands to give her a nudge, he hesitated to make contact when a deep sound suddenly resonated in the imperfect darkness.

“What is it?” Toji's voice addresses him without so much as turning over, giving no indications that he was awake. Megumi didn't know if his entering disturbed him, but he clutched back his hands when his voice surprised him. “Why're you out of bed?”

Megumi was sure he was braver than he felt, until he felt alone with his father. "S-sorry..." When trying to speak up, he is only able to stammer across his words. Able to get across “monster”, he eventually headed over to his father's side of the bed where his voice just became quieter. Almost embarrassed that he suddenly couldn't speak as well as he did, far beyond his years. His soft sounds did reach his mother's ears and naturally, her instincts woke her. She turns over, facing Toji's back and seeing the wild hair of their son shift just over his figure.

“Megumi? Wha’s’matter?” Her voice croaks fresh from a heavy sleep, lifting her head to get a better look at him on the darker side of the room. Megumi's confidence returned now that he heard her awake and he looked to her, speaking more clearly.

“Dad’s worm ate the monster.”

Toji who didn't bother to even open his eyes after Megumi entered the room, arches a thin brow at his son's response.

“...Oh.” His mother answers, surprised but skeptical of what a child’s imagination could conjure in the middle of the night. She played along however, hopeful talking it out if he was scared about a bad dream would make him feel better. Nothing's ever made him come into their room like this before. “Daddy has a monster-eating worm. That's handy. Ya saw this in your dreams?”

“No. Outside my window.” Megumi quickly clarified. He doesn't realize he's nervously twiddling his fingers together now.

Toji opens his eyes now, tilting his head and looking in Megumi's direction.

“Oh…Okay.” She nodded gently, holding her reservations over the matter in her tired state. “Come. Come on.” She gestured a hand for the little one to climb up and join them, lying back down herself.

As Megumi drew closer, Toji's larger hand gently gripped him under his arm and easily hoisted him up and over, sitting him between them, then returned to his own silent resting position with his back to them both. Megumi crawls up where his mother’s hand patted the small space made for him, wasting no time in getting under the blanket and curling up closer to her. Although he's not sure he can actually sleep after what he saw or if he wants to with that. It gave him such a bad feeling. But he did know he wanted to be here with them, away from the “monsters”. A gentle hand strokes his hair back before his mother's arm tucks around him to hold him close, reminiscent of how she used to hold him when he was much smaller. The unnerving feelings inside his little body faltered with that, just as quickly as they shook his sleep away. Yet he was still wide awake now and the sight still played in his mind.

“Can I…have a story?” He gently asked, shifting his head under his mother's chin.

She hums through her sleepy tone thoughtfully, then affirmatively. She yawned, “Yeah. Let’s see...How about a story with…” Pausing, she searched her own mind for whatever creative juices were available in the middle of the night. Searching for a story with something revered, fearless, and inspiring… “...A dragon.”

Looking with interested wide eyes, Megumi nods and gets more comfy in her warm space, making her smile. She closed her eyes and spun her tale.

“Okay. So…once upon a time, there was a dragon as big and powerful as any other in the world, and looked just as mean as the next… But unlike the other dragons around him... he couldn't breathe fire. The others all thought he wasn't as powerful as he seemed because of that and weren’t very nice to him. It wasn’t fair to the dragon and he didn’t like that one bit, giving him a bad temper. Once he had enough of it, he left his home on Dragon Island to make a name for himself. But he didn't realize leaving his family made him lonely.”

“I don’t get it,” Megumi interrupted. “If he’s big and strong anyways, why don’t he just stay and prove it to the other dragons?”

She opened her eyes, looking forward as she held Megumi a little closer. “I think because… Dragon Island and all the other dragons that looked down on him were all he knew in the world. A young dragon might have ended up lonely all the same if he just defeated them all. It wouldn't change how they made him feel.”

“It wouldn't?” Megumi asks, invested in this lonely dragon.

Toji’s head shifts against his pillow, ear turned toward his wife and child.

She shook her head at Megumi. “Despite what he could do, if he couldn’t breathe fire like them then what he could accomplish wasn’t deemed valuable. Uh...“Dragon-y”, ya know? He'd just be... a monster.”

“Oh...” The little one answered.

“So when he grew up and left home, he developed a reputation for being such a mean and surly dragon that terrified everyone in his path. The dragon enjoyed being that way for a long time too, since it made him feel as powerful as ever and forget how lonely he was on his own.”

Megumi sits up slightly looking at his mother. “-That's good then. Everyone knows he's strong and brave now, so he can go home.”

She smiled, impressed by his observation of the fairy tale but shook her head again indicating otherwise to his words. “He didn't want to go back anymore.” Megumi settles back down and puts his head on the pillow so he can watch her as she continues. “The dragon decided he would rather be free with his anger and his power, feared by all, and that was all that mattered to him. Until one day he met another dragon... who also couldn't breathe fire.”

“Did the other dragon make him not angry anymore?” The little one inquired further on the story. This time, Toji turns on his back with his head turned to face both of them.

His mother smiles at his keen guess, eyes meeting Toji’s in the dark room. “Yeah.”

Looking back to Megumi, she pulled him back into her cuddle and gently patted his back. “The other dragon didn’t live among her kind either so she was alone too. Not because she couldn’t breathe fire, but because she wanted to find a new home with…no idea what to look for...just stories of what it should be like.” She hears Megumi’s deep yawn and feels his weight shift and settle again. “The mean dragon started to see how beautiful this other dragon was for living with an inability to breathe fire, not like any other dragon he's seen before. In no time, he started to change and because he enjoyed the happiness given to him, they fell in love. They got married and shared their first kiss, and when that happened the two dragons turned into a prince and a princess.”

Megumi’s eyes were drifting until the last sentence caught him off guard, eyes widen again looking up at his smiling mother now watching his father.

“...It turns out that the dragon wasn't a dragon to begin with, but a prince who was cursed by an old wizard. A true love’s kiss freed him from his dragon curse and that magic also granted her wish to never be alone again, turning the beautiful dragon into a beautiful princess for him. So they could be together. Soon they had a child and were surprised to learn their little prince could breathe fire. In the end, they lived happily ever after.”

While too tired to do more than lift his head, Megumi continued to express his thoughts on the story, earning his mother’s eyes again. “Wait, they couldn’t breathe fire as dragons but their baby could?”

She nods. “Yep. They were blessed with a powerful and beautiful baby prince who could breathe fire!”

As bright as ever for his age, the young boy asks, “Was this story about me all along?” His mother’s eyes playfully rolled, her hold on him loosening.

“I dunno, can you breathe fire? Think I would have caught that. Lemme see.” She teased as she tilted his head back and gently pried his smiling mouth open. Her nose then turns up as she lets out a laugh fanning the air from her nostrils. “Oof! Maybe you can!”

“No I can't!” Megumi’s giggle fills the room before he yawns again and rubs his eyes. He looks over toward his father and finds Toji watching them both with a content smile. A larger hand now brushes down Megumi’s wild hair, then tousling it about in a playful manner.

“You got your story, time to go back to sleep alright?” Toji instructs in a lower, calming tone. Megumi nods, turning to lie facing his father and closing his eyes. Toji's hand was still on his head gently rocking side to side and his mother's hand patting his back helped him stop fighting his sleep, succumbing all at once after a few minutes of silence.

“Didn’t think he would be capable of perceiving ‘em this soon..” Toji muttered to himself when he pulled back his hand, followed by a large yawn of his own. The soft cadence of his words catches his wife's attention who was on the cusp of falling to sleep herself, heavy eyes partly reopened as she tilts her head up toward him.

“Hm? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Toji dismissed it, smirking to himself. There was no denying how interesting it was going to become with Megumi’s abilities starting to manifest. The “monster” no doubt was a cursed spirit if he saw his trained curse devour it. Toji briefly remembered something from when Megumi was born, an internal twinge he masked with analytical thoughts. If there was a chance that his child would be like him or them, what steps should he take for his benefit–when a baby was just a baby– before he realized the green eyes, dark hair, nose, and a promising intuition like his, all highlighted by features from his beloved making his blessing perfect. So of course, his blessing would be everything he isn't, and he had to wonder if he truly cared if they knew from himself or coincidence.

Tonight answered that, and for a while longer they can continue to be invisible to the Zenin clan until Megumi comes into his cursed technique. Toji grins to himself and finds the irony in having something they would want to better their lineage when it comes from outcasts like him.

A shame for the Zenin. His blessing was cursed to be like them, yet he's not theirs to take. They're not without reason to try when Megumi’s technique comes to light and gets their attention, but they're not stupid enough to take that chance. For now, The Black Spot of the Zenin Clan would simply wait and see.

“–‘Surly’, by the way? Really? Why does that sound like you’re referring to me as some old man?” Toji spoke up, pointing out his wife's fairy tale.

A humored smile grows in her restful face and she breathes a gentle laugh. Another moment passed in silence. “But …she was beautiful? His lost princess?”

“Whatever she is, he didn’t wait for their wedding to kiss her.” He remarked, a witty and teasing smirking in his features.

“Hey now...Nice dragons don't kiss and tell.”

Toji hears the dozy tone as she is barely hanging on to her consciousness now. “She’s worth the fuss.” He voiced tenderly, letting his own eyes drift closed after tucking the blankets over her and Megumi between them. “They…belong with each other.”

“...I love you too.”

Her runaway dragon prince.

#My writing #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro

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