#I immediately thought of him when I saw this

[heartmix]

My Girls - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singlemom!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: poking fun at max, dad!max, no use of y/n but daughters name is Aria

A/N: dad max content. I have a part 2 in mind so that will be coming soon

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

"Can I ask you a question, it's totally okay if you say no."

"What is it?"

"When do you think I'll be able to meet her?" the question caught you off guard. 

You knew what he was asking, he was asking when he'd be able to meet your daughter. Being a young single mom was not in the books for you. With her father leaving before she was even born you quickly tossed out the idea of finding a relationship. Sure, there have been many instances where people dated single parents, but since you had her when you were young, the idea did seem impossible. You've been preparing for the moment for months, but it still caught you off guard. Coming up on a year of being together it was bound to happen. 

Noticing your silence he quickly tried to defuse the tension, "I mean it's totally up to you. I don't mean to rush you or anything, I want to let you know that I'm committed to you and I'm not going anywhere. I want to be there for both of you."

"Sure." 

"Sure?" He clarified, a smile spreading across his face quickly, one you matched instantly. A simple nod was all he needed to take you into his arms and give you the most bone-crushing hug. Seeing him make a big deal settled all your nerves.

Max's hand was shaking way too much to be meeting a 2-year-old. From the stories you told about the little one, he saw that she was friendly and was willing to meet new people so the fact that he was shaking so much was comical. He's had meetings with some of the richest people in the world and met world leaders, hell people would have this reaction meeting him and he would laugh it off saying he was just a normal person. So why was this little one making him more nervous than a race day? 

It had to do with the fact that she was yours—the light of your life and the only person in your life you prioritized. The more he thought about it, the more that person became you to him, and this was just the final step to make everything feel real. If the little girl didn't like you, he knew you wouldn't hesitate to break it off, and he couldn't blame you.

With one final head shake to try and get rid of the nervousness he knocked on the front door. Did he knock too hard that he startled the little one? Should he have knocked? Maybe he should have texted you he was outside. It's been months since he knocked on your door, having his own key to the place. Before he could think of any other ridiculous thoughts the door opened the reveal you, standing in all your glory with that welcoming gorgeous smile he fell in love with. 

"I can't believe meeting my kid got you out of wearing a Red Bull kit. I can't even get you to do that." Your teasing tone snapped him out of the trance. Max couldn't help but laugh at that being your comment in a situation like this. 

"It's just a black shirt schatje. I can hardly say I dressed up." he glanced looking down at his black shirt and some jeans. He would be lying if he said he didn't think about what to wear today. 

"Oh please, Max Verstappen outside of anything Red Bull is dressing up." 

"You're not helping." he groaned seeing as you were enjoying every minute of this. He was going to get payback, if everything went okay after all.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"How are you not?" He asked not seeing any concerning features. He expected you to be more worried and in a worse state than him actually.

"Because I know you, I know how great you are, and that my baby will love you." You smiled while wrapping your arms around his neck, Max immediately circling his around your waist. Maybe if you weren't worried he shouldn't be either. "Come on, she's expecting you." Grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the house.

Before he rounded the corner to the living room he heard the sound of what to be a Disney song playing on the speakers and toys clashing with one another. He's been to your house enough times to know how much toys littered the living room. When the living room came into view he saw the little girl sitting on the ground surrounded by blocks and little toys he didn't recognize. 

"Aria, baby. I want you to meet Mommy's friend. This is max. Can you say hi?" Max didn't leave your side as you leaned down to grab the girl's attention. Her eyes immediately locked onto his the second she recognized there was a stranger in her house.

"Hi!" She beamed up at the tall Dutchman with the biggest smile on her face. Seeing that smile every last bit of nerves washed away. Just like seeing your smile for the first time, he knew he was screwed in the best way possible. 

"Hi, Aria. Lovely to meet you."

"Can Max spend the day with us?" you then asked although, with one look at the smirk on your face, he knew the answer. 

"Play with me?" In the cutest voice Max ever heard, he wasted no time sitting next to the girl who held a stuffed cat up to his face.

"Of course. I would love to!"

"Baby, why don't you show Max your cars."

"My cars!" She excitedly said before running to her room to retrieve her cars. Not a second later she came back with a bag filled with a few cars. Max was expecting Hot Wheels or toys from the cars movie, in no way was he prepared for the girl to pull out a replica of his car. 

"Do you know the cars we watch every week? That's Max and that's his car." You pointed out watching the girl's face turn into shock. 

"You 1?" Turning to Max who held the same shock expression as hers.

"I am. You like cars?" At this, she let out a little squeal and pushed the car into his hand. 

One by one she pulled out every car she had even the names she gave each of them. Max was 1, the McLarens were orange, and more specifically Lando was 4. The Ferraris were horsey and the one Mercedes car being Lewis of course was pretty due to the fact that she could only point out Lewis out of his racing gear. 

By the end of the day, Aria was all tired out. After all day playing with Max and telling stories at dinner, she passed out beside Max on the couch while watching cars. Your choice of movie just to poke fun at Max more. Taking her to bed you saw that Max pulled out wine from the fridge and handed you a glass before settling on the couch. The stark contrast from the noise-filled day to the quietness of just you two was a reality check for Max. He made it through and from the way you were cuddled up into his side, he knew that he was right where he needed to be. 

"Thank you. For being so good with her, she loved you so much, probably just as much as me. You made her day and she is going to be excited to see you in the morning."

"You don't need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for letting me into the biggest part of your life. You are doing such a wonderful job with her, you're an amazing mother." At his confession, you couldn't help but feel tears brim your eyes.

"I'm sorry, silly thing to get emotional about but that means a lot. I'm just happy you accept me and her with everything we have going on." Before your hands could wipe the tears streaming down your cheek his hands wiped them away. 

"I meant it when I said I'm with you through everything. I wouldn't change anything about you or her. I want you to know I love you both and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're such a freaking sap Max Verstappen. If your fans could see you now." You teased making him chuckle. 

"The duality of you to turn a heartfelt moment into teasing me." 

"You signed up for it when you agreed to date me."  

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss. 

[benkeibear]

『 AITA: For accidentally sending nudes to my sons best friend? 』

☼ synopsis: Toji accidentally sends nudes to his sons best friend... but was it really an accident?

☼ character: Toji Fushiguro

☼ reader: female | AFAB

☼ wc: 2033

☼ cw: phone sex, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Toji in his 40s), masturbation, pet names: baby/doll/bunny, mentions of pussy eating and p in v

☼ notes: a sudden need for dilf Toji overcame my horny brain... I won't apologize 😭

[1 New Message, 3 Images Attached]

Your head piped up when your phone vibrated, your focus instantly vanished when you saw his name - Toji. Seeing his name on your phone was a rare sight, he only ever texted you when Megumi didn't show up at night or when you asked him to pick you up from god knows where because it was far too dangerous to walk home at a late hour. Hell, at this point you almost called him dad with how many times he showed up for you or the way he treats you like his own.

Curiously you opened the messages to see why on earth that man texted you at almost 1 am, but your phone dropped to the floor and your jaw almost joined the device. You pinched the bridge of your nose and picked the phone up again. This surely wasn't what you were thinking...right?

A shaky breath left your lips when you unlocked your phone again, only to be met with Toji Fushiguro's cock splayed all over the screen. It wasn't even tasteful, just your average dick in hand while jerking off picture. Unsure if you should even stare at it the way you did, you swiped left to be met with a similar picture, but it was the short video that followed that left you breathless. He sounded so frustrated, angrily moving his fist up and down his thick shaft, his foreskin slightly shifting over the tip each time. It was hypnotic and after the fifth time of watching the eight second long video, you had to close it, your pussy aching from neglect, but your brain told you not to indulge. You really shouldn't touch yourself to nudes of your best friend's dad, now should you? This surely was a mistake and it almost made you chuckle, the thought of Toji going on dates and probably scaring these poor women off with his attitude alone.

Biting your lip, you decided that it couldn't hurt to indulge, worst case, you could blame him for it - he's the older one, after all, and should know better. Your clothes were quickly discarded before you took a few tasteful nudes, which you immediately sent to him. They were really tasteful, nothing too revealing and most importantly, not showing your face.

[1 New Message, 1 Video Attached]

With a shaky breath, you opened the video, your other hand gently rolling one of your nipples before traveling down south while the video played on a low volume.

“That's my good girl,” his voice rasps into the microphone, praising you for indulging, but his voice almost gets drowned out by the view, his cock was painfully hard, veins visibly popping and his grip was tight as he worked on his lubed up cock. The view once again left you hypnotized, his big hands looked small when he held his cock and it left your pussy clenching around nothing as your thoughts ran wild. Would you even be able to take him? He surely would rip you clean into two pieces with how huge his cock is.

Your pussy was absolutely drenched by now, fingers gently circling your clit and occasionally dipping the tip of a finger inside of your entrance to tease yourself.

“Bet you want me to fuck you dumb on my cock. Make you forget your own fucking name, bunny,” he groaned, a low moan following after the pet name that had your clit throbbing. You wanted nothing more than to hear this moan directly next to your ear when he pushes your head into the pillows and fucks you until you're a babbling mess for him - for your best friend's dad.

“Fuck- I can only imagine what your little cunt would look like stretched around me right now… so fucking tight and messy.” His hips buck up to meet the thrusts of his hand and you can see his abs ripple beneath his skin. He was right. Your pussy is a mess right now.

“Show me that messy pussy I love so much, baby. Let me see,” he encourages you to send him more of you, which is where the video ends.

A shiver runs down your spine and your finger stills against your sweet spot, but you don't pull it out just yet, contemplating if you should go further than you already did.

Your needy cunt clenched around your finger, letting you know that you fucking need to see more of Toji, need to see him come undone in order to earn your own release. These thoughts won't let you think straight, so you angle your camera and hit record when you rub your little clit just before dipping two fingers into your messy cunt. The squelching noises are obscene when you start curling them against your sweet spot and at this point, you can't hold back mewls and small whimpers anymore, practically whining his name and begging for his cock like a bitch in heat. Just as you were about to release, you pulled your fingers out, edging yourself and sending the little video to Toji.

[Message: Sent]

[Message: Read]

In order to keep yourself dancing along the edge, you ran your fingers over your clit with feather light touches, just waiting for him to type or send more of your newest addiction - his cock.

Toji stroked his dick in time with the way you pump your fingers into your cunt, fast and needy, but when you start whining for him, he almost loses control, his balls suddenly feeling tight and his urge to release getting almost unbearable… until he catches a glimpse of your face. It was just a fraction of a second, but he would recognize your face everywhere.

His hand stilled right away, his orgasm ruined, but his cock twitched greedily.

“Fuck,” he cursed out and locked his phone before running his hand over his face. Without wasting another moment, he wiped the remnants of lube on his hand off on his discarded t-shirt and dialed your number.

When you finally picked up, it was just silent on both sides, neither of you sure what to say, so he puts on the big boy pants and speaks up first.

“That wasn't meant for you,” it sounded like he scolded you, as if you invaded his privacy when it was his fault to begin with.

“I should have paid better attention, sorry.” An actual apology followed seconds later and you could hear that his heart and mind racing equally as fast as yours, although he would never admit to it. He was met with silence once again.

“You shouldn't have sent me anything back. I would have deleted everything if you would have just…” He began to explain that he would have never asked this of you, trying his best to be a proper adult here, when in reality he has thought about bending your cute ass over the kitchen counter quite a few times.

Toji can't even deny it at this point. He likes his women a lot younger and you're no exception here, even though his son is your best friend, so what? There was a reason he stopped talking, though, a little whimper on your end caught him off guard.

“Are you fucking getting off to this?” He asked, but it sounded more accusatory, although you can hear his smirk, you know him well enough that you know that he's just trying to be that stern adult when in reality he likes to think with that big cock of his.

Get a grip. She is young enough to be your fucking daughter. Toji tried to hold himself back, but at this point it was like a tightly coiled spring, the more pressure applied, the more inevitable he would snap - so he chuckled.

His chuckle sounded almost mocking, but it turned you on even more. The fact that he could hear just how pathetic you were, how desperately you craved him to stretch you open on his cock and fuck you until you could neither sit nor walk comfortably for the next days to come. Two of your fingers slipped into your dripping pussy once again, a silent gasp escaping you at the light stretch.

“You thinkin’ of my fingers fucking you, bunny?” He mused out and you heard a lid click shut on his line, followed by a small hiss. The lube felt like fucking ice against his rock hard length, but he needed it, wanting to imagine your little cunt wrapped around him and not his shitty hands. You mewled in reply, but it wasn't good enough for him.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you thinkin’ of,” his voice sounded raw, the hunger for you dripped off of every word, and you could already feel your walls flutter. The sheer perversion and the taboo of this alone were enough to have you on edge, but the way he talked to you drove you to the brink of insanity.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered and your voice cracked in such an embarrassing way, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Toji could hear how needy you were for him - not knowing if you've ever been fucked properly or if your fingers were all that your cunt ever got stuffed with - he took pity on your whining self.

“Come for me, baby, let me hear you,” he encouraged you to finally cave in, to let the knot that has formed in your tummy snap. Heaven knows he was just as close with how desperate you were for him, whining his name so sweetly as you came around your little fingers. He could practically see it, your toes curling and your mouth hung open as you tried to close your thighs, fingers still curling by the sound and he wanted nothing more than to have you clench around his cock like that - you'd grip him like a vice and he would never let you go until you're dripping with his cum and -

“Fuck-” Toji’s chest rumbled with a groan as he painted his defined abs with small shots of ivory, a few drops running down his hand as he squeezed his sensitive tip a little harder than necessary just for it to sting with overstimulation.

There was silence between the two of you for a few minutes, heavy breathing slowly evening out and the haze of hormones wearing off, leaving you to think about what just happened between the both of you.

“Are you okay?” He eventually asked, actually worried that you might regret this.

“Hmm, yeah,” you whisper softly, and it felt like a whole entire mountain fell off his chest.

“Do you… regret it, doll?” He proceeded to ask you as he wiped the cum away with the discarded T-shirt before tossing it to the ground.

“Not really,” you giggle softly and shake your head. “I just regret that it wasn't actually your fingers,” you sound teasing with an edge of sincerity and it was a breath of fresh air to him. He never thought you would be this naughty.

“Naughty… Perhaps I can change that next time I drive you home,” he mused, letting you know that this won't ever happen in his home.

“Yeah… let's not tell Megs anything about that, okay?” You ask shy, the guilt was slowly eating you alive from keeping such a secret, but Megumi wouldn't like it much to know that you're fucking his dad. He would probably never speak to you again should he find out.

“That boy won't find it out from me anyway,” Toji reassured you, never telling his son anything about his love life to begin with - let alone about the women he ends up in bed with.

“But who knows. Perhaps I'll have you as a dessert one day. You just gotta be real quiet, he muses, the playfulness practically dripping from his voice and you rubbed your thighs together.

“Don't say that, Mr. Fushiguro. I might hold you to it,” you chuckle as your finger gently glides over your slick folds once again.

“Maybe you can tell me about all the things you intend to do to me.”...

Networks @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

[satellite-evans]

The GQ Couples Quiz

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco and his girlfriend takes the GQ Couples Quiz :)

Word count: 3.5k+

Warnings: tooth aching fluff, teasing, flirting

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sleek GQ studio was buzzing with quiet activity. The lights were warm but not overbearing, the cameras were perfectly positioned, and the iconic wooden table was set for the latest celebrity couple to take the famous GQ Couple Quiz.

You adjusted the hem of your cream-colored blazer and looked at Franco sitting beside you. He was impossibly handsome in a tailored shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms.

Franco turned to you with a playful grin. “Okay, mi reina, are you ready? I’m about to prove I know you better than anyone.”

You smirked, leaning into him just slightly. “We’ll see about that. I don’t think you’re ready for the questions.”

Franco chuckled, his accent curling around his words, and you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. He reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

You could feel the excitement building between you two, and as the interviewer looked over, they gave a friendly smile.

"Alright, we’re ready to roll," the interviewer said, looking at both of you. "Whenever you're ready."

Franco turned to the camera with a confident grin. “Hi, I’m Franco Colapinto…”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you finished, your smile just as warm. You exchanged a quick glance, knowing exactly where this was going.

“And today,” Franco continued, giving you a playful side-eye, “we’re taking GQ’s Couples Quiz.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. “We are. Let’s see how well we really know each other…”

The interviewer smiled at your easy chemistry. “I’m excited to see how this goes! Before we dive into the questions, though—how did you two meet? What’s the story behind your relationship?”

Franco smirked, leaning back in his chair slightly as he thought back to the moment. "Well, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight for me, but definitely... curiosity," he said, his Argentine accent giving the words a warm undertone. “We met a few years ago at a charity event. I was there for a sponsor dinner, and Y/N was the guest of honor.”

You smiled, turning to him with a playful look. “Yeah, I didn’t know who he was at first. He was just standing there, looking like he didn’t want to talk to anyone. I thought he was avoiding the crowd.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your recounting. “I wasn’t avoiding anyone! I just don’t love big crowds, but when I saw her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

You shook your head with a smile. “That’s because you were staring, Franco. Staring.”

He laughed, looking over at you. "Guilty as charged."

The interviewer chuckled, enjoying the playful dynamic between you two. "I love how much you two tease each other. But it’s clear there’s something special here. Alright, let’s get into the quiz!"

Franco squeezed your hand. “Ready to show off how well we know each other?”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m ready. Let’s see if you remember the little details, Mr. Colapinto.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low in that playful way you loved. “Trust me, cari��o, I remember everything about you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Let’s hope so. Alright, hit us with the first question.”

Franco Colapinto and Y/N Y/L/N Take The GQ Couple Quiz

The interviewer set the tone. “Alright, let’s see how well this power couple knows each other. First question:

Who made the first move?

Franco immediately laughed, leaning back in his chair as if preparing for a defense. “It was me. No question.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “It wasn’t as smooth as you’re making it sound, though.”

He feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “Excuse me? I was very smooth.”

“Franco,” you said, turning toward him fully, your hand resting on his arm. “You tripped over a chair trying to get to me during the charity event.”

“That was part of the charm,” he quipped, leaning closer until your noses almost touched. “But I regret nothing. You were standing there, looking like a literal dream, and I thought, ‘If I don’t talk to her right now, someone else will.’”

You felt your cheeks warm as you remembered that night. “Well, it worked. The chair-tripping, the terrible Spanish pick-up line—”

“Terrible? It was romantic!” Franco interjected, laughing. “I said, ‘¿Eres un ángel, o acabo de soñar contigo?’”

You giggled, your hand slipping to his knee. “That’s so cheesy, but... I guess it was cute.”

“Cute enough to get me here,” he said, grinning, before leaning in and brushing a kiss to your cheek. “So I think I win this one.”

What’s Y/N’s favorite nickname Franco calls her?

You barely hesitated as you held up your card to show what you wrote : Mi reina.

Franco nodded, his hazel eyes softening as he wrote the same. “It’s my favorite, too. Because you really are my queen.”

You smiled, biting your lip as the warmth of his words settled over you. “I think it’s the way you say it,” you admitted. “It’s not just the nickname. It’s how you say it like I’m your entire world.”

“You are my world, mi vida,” he said, reaching for your hand. His thumb traced gentle circles over your skin, and his gaze locked with yours. “You’re everything to me.”

The moment lingered as if time itself had slowed, and for a second, the cameras and crew disappeared. It was just the two of you.

Who takes longer to get ready?

The interviewer smirked as the question was read aloud. “Okay, who’s the real diva in this relationship? Who takes longer to get ready?”

Franco didn’t even hesitate. “Her,” he said with a grin, pointing at you. “No competition.”

You gasped, your hand flying to your chest in mock offense. “Excuse me? I’m the diva? You’re the one who takes forever to pick the perfect pair of shoes. You’ve got, what, ten pairs of white sneakers?”

Franco laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m efficient. I pick a pair and I’m done in five minutes. You, on the other hand, spend twenty minutes deciding between two pairs of earrings.”

“Because I care about the details,” you shot back, flipping your card to reveal your answer: Me. “Fine, I’ll own it. But at least I have a reason.”

“And what’s that?” Franco asked, his tone playful as he leaned in closer, his hand sliding to your thigh.

You smirked. “I’m representing both of us. If I look bad, it reflects on you, too.”

Franco shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. “You could walk out in pajamas and still look like a goddess.”

“Smooth,” you teased, biting your lip to suppress a smile.

“Just honest,” he replied, brushing his lips against your ear. “Besides, I like when you wear my hoodie. It’s my favorite look.”

You burst out laughing, playfully shoving him. “Okay, stop before you make me blush on camera.”

“Too late,” he said, grinning as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

What’s Franco’s most overused phrase?

The interviewer grinned. “What’s the one phrase Franco says so much that you could finish his sentences for him?”

You didn’t even have to think. “Easy. Todo bien.” You flipped your card, smirking as Franco revealed his matching answer.

“Okay, okay, guilty,” Franco admitted, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair. “But it works for everything. You ask me how my day is? Todo bien. If something goes wrong in the car? Todo bien. It’s versatile!”

“It’s lazy,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s like your default setting.”

Franco grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But you love it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

“Liar,” he said, his voice dropping a notch as he leaned closer, his tone warm and teasing. “You told me once that you love how calm I am. That I’m steady. Remember?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips. “Yeah, okay, fine. I love it because it’s you. And because it means you don’t let things get to you.”

Franco’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand. “And because I’ve got you, mi reina. As long as we’re together, it’s always todo bien.”

What’s Y/N’s guilty pleasure?

Franco smirked, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief as he wrote his answer. “Oh, this one is good.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Don’t you dare.”

He flipped his card with a flourish: Reality TV.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as the crew laughed. “Why do you insist on exposing me like this?”

Franco was practically glowing with amusement. “Because it’s hilarious! I’ll walk into the living room, and you’re sitting there, yelling at people on The Bachelor like they can actually hear you.”

“Franco!” you cried, smacking his arm as your cheeks burned. “You promised not to bring that up.”

“I lied,” he said, grinning unabashedly. “But it’s adorable. You get so into it, like your whole life depends on whether some random guy picks the right girl.”

“It’s called emotional investment,” you argued, crossing your arms. “You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, I’m emotionally invested, alright,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But not in some reality show. Just in you.”

Your faux indignation melted away as he leaned closer, his hand brushing yours. “You’re so lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“And you’re lucky I find your reality TV obsession charming,” he shot back, his tone filled with affection.

Who’s more competitive?

This question made you both laugh out loud. You scribbled quickly, holding up your card at the same time as Franco. Both read: Franco.

“Obviously,” you teased, pointing at him. “He can’t help himself. He races cars for a living! He even makes game nights at home a bloodsport.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Hold on, let’s not forget how you turned Uno into a tactical war.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was defending myself! You were the one gloating.”

“I’m a Gemini,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “But seriously, I think competition makes things more fun. It keeps us sharp.”

“And gives you an excuse to win,” you teased, leaning closer until your shoulder bumped his.

Franco laughed, his hand sliding around your waist. “Maybe. But only because I like impressing you.”

What’s Franco’s hidden talent?

You tapped your pen against the table, glancing at Franco with a knowing smile. “This one’s easy,” you said, scribbling on your card. You flipped it over for the camera: Tango dancing.

Franco’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re really going to expose me like that?”

“Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, nudging him. “How could I not? You’re incredible at it.”

Franco shook his head, laughing softly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I like to do back home. Everyone learns.”

“Oh, no, no,” you interrupted, leaning closer to him. “You’re not getting away with that. When I saw you tango for the first time, I swear I forgot how to breathe.”

Franco chuckled, turning to the interviewer. “She’s exaggerating. But yeah, growing up, my abuela loved tango. She taught me and my cousins. She’d play Carlos Gardel records, and we’d have little competitions in her living room.”

Your expression softened as you listened. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful things about you—how connected you are to your culture.”

He looked at you, his hazel eyes warm. “Well, if you love it so much, why don’t we show them?”

Your jaw dropped. “Right now? Here? Are you crazy? Absolutely not!”

The crew laughed, while you fanned yourself with the cards since it stared to become warmer and warmer and Franco sighed to the camera.

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying, no?”

Who’s more likely to cry during a movie?

You groaned the moment the question was read. “Oh, come on. We all know the answer to this.”

Franco raised a brow, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Do we? Let’s see if you admit it.”

You both wrote your answers and revealed them at the same time. Both cards read: Y/N.

Franco laughed, throwing his head back. “I mean, it’s true. You cry at everything.”

“C’mon, now you’re just exaggerating!” you protested, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Franco leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table as he looked at you. “Mi amor, you cried during a dog food commercial last week. Dog food.”

“It was sad!” you defended, crossing your arms. “The dog grew old, and they were playing that emotional piano music…”

Franco reached over, pulling you into his side as he kissed the top of your head. “And I love that about you. It’s one of my favorite things. You feel everything so deeply, and it’s beautiful.”

You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re just saying that because you like comforting me.”

“True,” he admitted, grinning. “But it’s also because it’s you. And if you cry, I’ll always be there to kiss the tears away.”

What’s Franco’s favorite childhood memory?

Franco’s smile turned wistful as he wrote his answer. He flipped the card: Sunday asados with my family.

You smiled, nodding. “I knew you’d say that. You talk about them all the time.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he thought back. “Every Sunday, my entire family would gather at my abuela’s house. There’d be cousins running around, fútbol matches in the yard, and my tío would be at the grill, making the best asado you could imagine. The smell of the meat, the sound of everyone laughing… it was perfect.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “That’s why you always want to recreate it, isn’t it? Even here.”

He nodded, his smile bittersweet. “Yeah. It’s not the same without everyone, but it helps me feel close to home.”

What’s Y/N’s dream role?

Franco watched you intently as you wrote your answer, his expression already filled with pride. You held up your card: A biopic.

Franco grinned. “Of course. You’ve talked about this so many times. You want to play someone real, someone with a story that matters.”

You nodded, your voice growing thoughtful. “I think acting is about connecting with people. Telling their truths. And there’s something so powerful about stepping into someone else’s shoes, especially when their story needs to be heard.”

Franco reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “And you’d be amazing at it. I’ve seen how much heart you put into everything you do.”

You smiled at him, your chest tightening with emotion. “You’re my biggest cheerleader, you know that?”

“Always,” he said softly. “Because I believe in you, mi reina. More than anyone.”

Who’s the bigger flirt?

You both burst into laughter before the question was even finished. Franco raised a brow. “Be honest.”

“Oh, I’m being honest,” you said, flipping your card: Franco.

He feigned shock. “What? Me? How?”

“It’s the accent,” you teased, smirking. “Everything you say sounds flirty.”

Franco leaned closer, his hand brushing your thigh under the table. “Only for you, mi amor.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.”

Franco grinned, brushing his lips against your temple. “What can I say? I can’t help myself. You bring it out of me.”

What’s Franco’s pre-race ritual?

Your card was ready in seconds: His lucky wristband. Franco revealed the same answer with a smile.

“I know it’s not an actual ritual but you do always make sure you wear it before a race,” you said, glancing at the worn fabric around his wrist.

Franco nodded, his gaze tender. “You gave it to me before my first big race. You said it would keep me safe.”

“And it has,” you added softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Every time you’re out there, I know you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Franco reached for your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles. “It’s more than a piece of you. It’s everything. It reminds me why I do this. For us.”

How do you see your future together?

The room grew quieter as the final question sank in. Franco turned to you, his hazel eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. He took a deep breath, then wrote: Together, always.

You revealed a similar answer, and your lips trembled as you tried to speak. “That’s all I want.”

Franco took your hands, pulling you closer. “I see us traveling the world, chasing dreams, and building a life full of love. One day, we’ll have a home in Argentina. A big one, with space for our kids to run around.”

Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke. “Franco…”

“You’re my forever,” he said softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “No matter where we are, as long as we’re together, it’ll be perfect.”

You leaned into him, and he kissed you, sealing the promise with a tenderness that left everyone in the in awe.

The interviewer smiled, clearly enjoying the chemistry between you two. “Well, that’s a wrap on the quiz. I have to say, you two are absolutely adorable together. Thank you for being so open and playful with your answers.”

You both leaned back in your chairs, your hearts still racing from the last round of questions. You flashed the interviewer a smile. “Thank you for having us. This was actually a lot of fun.”

Franco gave you a teasing side-eye. “See? I told you we’d survive it. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

Franco shot you a wink, clearly enjoying your playful back-and-forth. “Absolutely. No one else could have pulled this off like we did.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you reached over to grab his hand. “Well, you might be right about that. You’re kind of a master at the whole ‘effortlessly cool’ thing. I’ll give you that.”

He squeezed your hand, his tone suddenly more sincere. “You know, I couldn’t have done this without you. You make everything better, reina.”

The interviewer chuckled softly, glancing at the two of you. “It’s clear you’ve got something special. I think I’m starting to understand why you two are always the talk of the town. And don’t get me started on those looks you exchange—it’s like there’s a secret language between you.”

You both laughed, your hearts full as Franco’s thumb traced lazy circles over your wrist. “Well,” you said, your voice softer now, “we’ve got a pretty strong connection. We’ve been through a lot together, and at the end of the day, we just… get each other.”

Franco nodded, his expression tender. “Yeah. It’s not just the fun moments. It’s the real stuff too. You’re my rock, and you make me better in ways I didn’t even know I needed.”

You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You do the same for me, Franco. I think we’re kind of perfect for each other.”

The interviewer, clearly moved by the genuine tenderness between you two, smiled warmly. “Well, it looks like you two have found something truly special. It’s rare to see such real, authentic love, especially in the spotlight. You’re both lucky.”

You nodded, squeezing Franco’s hand. “We really are.”

Franco turned his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Lucky, but also the happiest I’ve ever been. You’re my everything, and this little quiz was just one of many more moments to come.”

You chuckled, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks. “Well, don’t get too carried away. You still have to deal with me picking out my earrings for the next hour.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll happily wait as long as it takes, mi reina.”

The interviewer laughed, clearly enchanted by the chemistry between you. “Alright, alright, you two are officially making me swoon. But seriously, thank you both for being such great sports. This was a blast.”

As the cameras shut off and the crew started to pack up, you and Franco shared a quiet moment, basking in the intimacy of the space you’d created between the two of you. You looked at him with a soft smile, feeling incredibly lucky to share such a love that felt both deep and lighthearted.

“I’m glad we did this,” you murmured.

Franco pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ll always do anything that makes you happy. And I love seeing you laugh.”

You leaned into him, your fingers lightly playing with his shirt sleeve. “We’re a great team, huh?”

“The best,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. He looked at you, his eyes full of sincerity. “Always.”

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, is a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away from him, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[itsoutrageouss]

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Part four of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley seeing you cry for the first time, due to demand which I am (so) grateful for. Simon’s accidentally a little mean at the wrong time lol- readers on her period.

It’s the second time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that he looses himself into some kind of caretaker instinct.

The last time it had happened, it was after a brutal mission where he’d found you as a crying heap on the floor. So naturally his heart started pounding painfully in his chest when he creaked the door open to your room and saw you curled in bed, sniffling softly.

Once again the vulnerability you showed seemed to hurl him away like a storm. It was such a precious, private side of you and he wanted to go on his knees for you in thanks for allowing him to see it.

He’s by your side with three stalking striders, crouching down next to the bed. His hand hovers over your waist, then your shoulder, then your face because he doesn’t know if he can, or even where he should touch you right now, your shoulders shaking as your head nuzzles into your tear stained pillow.

“Hey. Stop.” He says, voice almost holding a small tremble, laced with panic because as much as he adored this side of you, he wanted you to smile again. Please?

You didn’t respond, only curled further away like an uninterested cat. He frowns and then grabs your neck, gently turning it until you meet his gaze. He wants to gasp at how pretty you look with glistening, red cheeks and glossy eyes, lashes sticking together as you pout at him.

“What is it lovie?” The nickname slips before he knows how to stop it and he winces internally, tensing. But it seems to coax you to nuzzle your face into his hand instead, and he keeps it completely still, scared that a single movement would scare you away. He feels your cold cheek press into his palm, itching to curl his fingers into the soft skin.

“Nothing” you whine.

He huffs. Jesus Christ.

“Nothing, yeah? That’ why you’re crying like a baby?” He smiles, eyes crinkling behind the mask but yours have closed and he sees your face contort into more sadness, more crying and his eyes go wide, immediately holding you a little tighter.

“No! No, shit, sweet’eart it was a joke” he says quickly, voice urgent. You usually took all his teasing with great stride or an even better comeback, but seeing you cry even more because of him made a strange knot form in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow down.

You demonstratively turn your back to him on the bed. It was actually insane to him, seeing you like this. You were always sharp, focused, witty; slapping Johnny and Simon on the arm when they start bantering too much on the way to a mission.

He was sort of addicted to it, he thought, as even your back turning made something warm flutter in his stomach as he reached for your shoulder, entire hand able to envelop it and tug gently.

“M’ sorry? M’ sorry just… talk to me.” Silence ensues.

“Please.” The word falls unnaturally from his lips.

It seems to be the keyword because your head turns painfully slow until you blink up at him, now with a slight scowl.

“It hurts” you whisper, bottom lip jutting out. He immediately pulls your cover down to your thigh to start looking you over for injuries but your cold hands tug his wrist and puts his palms over your lower stomach. He blinks.

“You pregnant?” He blurts.

Your eyes widen and he swears he sees a hint of a smile and triumph floods his system. “No you idiot! I’m on my period. Cramps!” You say with a shake of your head, eyes closing for a beat.

He was a bloody idiot to be fair. A lot of things from today seemed to click for him when you said that, and his shoulders relax, head tilting as his eyes narrow, framed by the black mask. His hands on your stomach fan out, thumbs stroking the skin under your shirt. He feels your muscles tighten at his touch.

“Sensitive?” He muses.

“Shut it” you mumble, looking away and trying not to let the enjoyment of his touch show too much, but your eyes flutter closed and he could practically hear you purring. But he doesn’t say anything, once again afraid he’ll ruin this little bubble that you’ve let him be a part of, for reasons he doesn’t understand.

After long minutes of comfortable silence, his hands running over the expanse of your stomach, caressing and massaging softly, he sees your lips part in soft breaths. Slowly and lingering, his hands retreat so he doesn’t do anything stupid. But you whine, immediately noticing the lack of his touch, even in your half asleep state, grabbing for him. His jaw flexes as he tried not to smile.

“M’ gonna run you a bath, lovie. I’ll be right back.” He promised, suddenly turning into some kind of caretaker role he never thought he wanted to be. Until you came along and now he finds himself wanting to do all kinds of things for you, after seeing how you reacted to his touch. The scrunch of your brows when he tells you he’ll run you a bath gives him a high he can ride for days.

He’s just trying to repay how sweetly you bandaged his hands weeks ago. To repay how you played along to his little story at the last mission about how you and him had met.

Trying to repay these insatiable and foreign feelings you brought forth in him, so you wouldn’t take them away. Ever.

Now maybe he just had to actually tell you about them? No. No way. The thought was forced from his mind immediately.

[mindless-existence1]

Hello!! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write a oneshot with Shadow x reader (fem preferably but up to you!) and Reader's taking a shower and there's a flipping spider and she asks Shadow to kill the damn spider please (totally not speaking from experience) anyways haha have a great day! 🤩

The warm glow of the bathroom light spilled into the hallway as you prepared to step into the shower.

Steam curled up from the running water, and you were just about to turn around to grab your towel when you saw it.

A spider.

It wasn’t massive, but it wasn’t small either—one of those mid-sized ones that somehow looked bigger when it decided to skitter across your bathroom floor.

Your heart jumped, and a startled yelp escaped your lips. “Shadow!” you called instinctively, backing away toward the door.

Before you could process your next move, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the hall. Shadow burst into the room, his crimson eyes scanning the area with the intensity of someone expecting a life-threatening situation.

“What happened?” he demanded, his tone sharp. You pointed toward the floor near the base of the sink. “There’s… there’s a spider.”

Shadow blinked, his gaze shifting to where you were pointing. Sure enough, there it was, sitting completely still as if mocking your fear.“…A spider,” he repeated flatly, the tension in his stance immediately easing.

“Yes, a spider,” you said, still clutching the towel close. “It’s huge!” Shadow crossed his arms, his expression hovering between exasperation and disbelief. “You called me in here… for that?”

“It’s not just a spider!” you argued. “It’s a menace! It could be poisonous or something.”

Shadow stared at you for a long moment, his usual stoic demeanor faltering slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re afraid of this tiny creature?”

“Hey, everyone has their thing,” you muttered defensively. With a sigh, Shadow crouched down, effortlessly scooping the spider up in his gloved hand.

The arachnid didn’t even try to resist, its tiny legs twitching as Shadow carried it toward the open window.

He released it outside with an almost robotic efficiency, shutting the window afterward. “There,” he said, turning back to you.

“The ‘threat’ has been neutralized.” You take Shadows face in your hands and give him a sweet kiss on cheeck. “My hero!” you see the reddness come to his cheeks as he avert his gaze away from you.

“You humans are truly baffling sometimes,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. You smiled sheepishly.

“Hey, you’re the one who rushed in like I was being attacked. Admit it—you thought I was in serious danger.” Shadow didn’t deny it, his eyes flicking away briefly. “I wasn’t going to take any chances,” he said quietly, his tone softer now.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t resist leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Well, my hero, thanks for saving me from the terrifying creature.”

He huffed, clearly trying to maintain his aloofness despite the faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “Just try not to scream next time unless it’s actually an emergency.”

“No promises,” you teased, grabbing your towel and stepping into the shower.

As you closed the door, you could still hear him muttering under his breath about “overreacting humans,” but you knew he didn’t really mind. Shadow had a habit of making your small problems his responsibility, no matter how ridiculous they seemed.

[redeemingvillains]

the apothecary's rebel - mattheo riddle

summary: hogwarts' bad boy can't seem to find a way to stay out of the infirmary where you're working to become a healer, but as the stakes get higher, you struggle to understand if you're simply a means to an end, or something much more.

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of severe injury, broken bones, blood, etc.

a/n: this is so tropey and i'm not sorry about it! credit as always to the lovely @pizzaapeteer who has definitively determined that mattheo's favorite quidditch team is the falmouth falcons, which i will faithfully honor in every fic that i write.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, he had rivulets of blood pouring from his nose, crimson and amber; it stained his white collared shirt and seeped into his emerald tie and dark robes but despite it, he was smiling, laughing actually as his eyes glinted at Professor McGonagall who was dragging him alongside her into the infirmary.

"Please, Professor" he implored, "I can't help myself when someone runs their mouth like that, I can't, it's like a curse or something, my fist just flew to his face, what was I supposed to do?!" He was smirking as he looked at her, but she ignored his gaze as she yanked him before you.

"Enough, Mr. Riddle!" she said shrilly.

He tugged his arm out of her grasp. "I don't need the infirmary, m'fine" he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"You're dripping blood on my floor" she retorted, pointing to the maroon spots at his feet.

He glanced down and then wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood further across his face.

"Ms. YLN!" McGonagall said, making it clear that he was your problem now as she squeezed her eyes shut in aggravation then spun on her heels and left.

You stood from your desk at once startled and awed by the situation, but Mattheo's gaze followed McGonagall out of the room.

"M'fine, I don't need anything" he repeated as he continued to swipe at the blood that wouldn't stop running.

You begged to differ as you took in the gash on the bridge of his nose, and the early signs of a black eye. You handed him a cloth which he stuffed under his nose halfheartedly, barely glancing at you, and before you could do anything else, he jogged back to the doorway, peered around the corner and disappeared.

Your week went by without anything nearly as exciting occurring beyond the normal bumps, bruises, and burns from spells and potions gone awry before you saw him again, this time of his own volition.

He caught your eye as his large framed graced the doorway. He was dressed for quidditch, still in his shoulder pads and Slytherin practice jersey. His dark curls were windblown and his cheeks were flush with exertion; sweat glistened on his brow and you thought fleetingly to yourself that no one had the right to look that sweaty and that good at the same time.

You stood from your desk to approach him, eyebrow quirked when he held up his hand by way of explanation, where two of his fingers were bent the wrong way, clearly broken. You motioned wordlessly for him to sit on the nearest cot.

He sat and immediately focused his attention out the window, peering like he was hoping to see the quidditch pitch from his vantage point.

You gathered a few supplies and approached him and he thrust out his hand, eyes never leaving the window.

"Go on then, get it over with" he said shortly. "I wanna get back to practice."

Unbeknownst to you, he was no stranger to broken bones, nor the sharp, relentless pain that came with the healing process and he was doing everything he could to steel himself for it.

Your touch was warm and tender as your fingers gently examined his hand.

"What position do you play?" you asked.

"Beater" he said simply.

You handed him a dose of healing and numbing potion, which he chugged in one go, thinking briefly that it tasted much better than he remembered.

"Are you any good?" you continued as you took the vial back from him and continued your work on his fingers.

"Are you joking?" he asked, laughing humorlessly.

You shrugged innocently, a sly smile on your lips, though you never broke your focus.

"Yeah, I'm good" he said. "Best Slytherin has seen in a while. We might actually have a chance at the cup this year if Flynt can keep his head straight and Goyle can stay sober long enough to sit on his broom."

"A daunting task" you teased.

He laughed genuinely this time, your humor enough to garner his attention and break his gaze from the window as his eyes fell on you instead, and you could feel yourself flush under his notice.

"Harpies or Cannons?" you asked, trying to guess his favorite team.

"Falcons" he said, smirking at your knowledge of quidditch.

"My brothers root for Ballycastle, but I'm partial to the Magpies" you replied.

Now he was flat out impressed and had about a million questions for you, but just as he opened his mouth to ask them, you step back and smiled.

"You're all set!"

He thought you were joking until he looked down at his carefully bandaged fingers.

"You should be able to grip your broom just fine. Put some ice on it after practice if you can, otherwise it will hurt like hell when the potion wears off."

You were gathering your supplies as he wiggled his fingers with trepidation. He felt a dull ache, but nothing more, and he could easily grasp his broom despite his mended fingers with the unique way you'd wrapped them; it'd felt better than any mending he'd had before and whether it was your talent or the deft way you'd distracted him, he couldn't stop himself from muttering "S'bloody brilliant."

"Thanks" you said genuinely, feeling the heat return to your cheeks as you shot him a playful smirk of your own. "Best Ravenclaw's seen in a while" you teased, echoing his words from earlier before you walked back to your desk.

The rest of the afternoon you found your thoughts wandering between the books you were trying to study and the boy with dark curls and a smirky grin who seemed magnetized to mischief, how even the brush of your fingers against his strong, calloused hands had had you struggling to focus on healing, the very thing that came most naturally to you.

You were both happy and disappointed that you didn't see him soon thereafter, glad perhaps that he was keeping himself out of trouble and in one piece. You caught glimpses of him occasionally in the busy corridor between classes or in the Great Hall surrounded by his raucous group of friends, but you tried your level best not to stare, in turn missing his equally ardent attempts to catch your eye.

It was perhaps three weeks later that you awoke late on a Saturday night to a muffled pounding on your bedroom door. Bright moonlight shone through your curtained window as you struggled to get your bearings and the pounding relented, heavy and urgent.

Occasionally, Madam Pomfrey summoned you in an emergency and your heart trilled as you pulled a large sweater over your lace and silk pajamas. You moved quickly to open the door, only to find Mattheo slumped and leaning against your doorway.

He swung his head to look at you with noticeable effort and you couldn't hold in your gasp as you took in his face, scraped and dirty with a large cut on his eyebrow that you were already calculating would need stitches, and a smaller but sizable cut to match on his lip. His mouth was bloodied and the gash on the bridge of his nose was back.

"Gods, Mattheo" you whispered as you reached for him. "Let's get you down to the infirmary."

"S'four inthe mornin' m'not gonna explain to them why I looklike this" he said, his speech slurring as he moved to brush past you into your room.

"Can'tyou fix me n'here?" he asked, as he swayed and you moved to support his weight.

"I-I don't have what I need, I don't have any numbing potion..." you tried to say.

"Can't hurt more'n it already does" he huffed as he sat on your bed.

The sight of him there, rumpling your sheets caught every last word in your throat and you busied yourself grabbing what you could to buy time to still your racing heart.

"What happened?" you asked, finally.

"Me'n the boys got into one" he said, not offering more in the way of an explanation as he glanced around your room, making you feel exposed.

"And where are they?" you asked, glancing for a moment back at the door like they might follow him in.

"I wasn'about to drag five ofus n'here" he said with a smirk.

I wanted you all to myself he thought as he tried with significant effort to focus on you as you came to stand between his spread legs. Your sweater was falling off of your shoulder to reveal thin, silk pajamas that covered next to nothing; your hair was rumpled and wavy with sleep, giving you a relaxed and tousled look that had his mind racing with the image of you tangled in your sheets.

You held his chin softly in your hand, turning his head slowly to the right and to the left. You could smell firewhiskey on him, and could see the pupils of his eyes blown wide as they looked unwavering at you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly.

"You might have a concussion" you said quietly, focusing on the facts instead of the fantasy in front of you.

"Probably" he agreed, his voice thick and raspy.

Your eyes shifted from his strong gaze to focus on his hands, attentively wiping away the dirt, gravel and blood from his knuckles, your fingers running down his palms. His eyes fluttered, thinking you had no right to make him feel this good by touching his hands, and then immediately he thought about your touch anywhere, everywhere else.

You leaned further into him to attend to the cut on his eyebrow, softly whispering the spell to mend it, close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin and he closed his eyes in earnest, letting your words wash over him, calming him from what had been an intense and violent night; they didn't flutter open again until you gently touched his lip.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" you asked.

"S'other ways you could make it feel better" he said, smiling widely in way that set a twinkle in his eye.

"Very funny" you said, redoubling your efforts, without realizing that for once he wasn't joking.

He reached out a hand to grab your waist, attempting to pull you into him, but you mistook it for an effort to steady himself and set a hand on his shoulder.

With the amount of alcohol in his system you thought, there is little to no chance he remembers any of this.

Mattheo woke with a throbbing headache and for the life of him he couldn't piece together why his friends visibly looked like they'd lost a brawl, while he looked...fine; his hands and face were clean and his split lip and eyebrow were reduced to small cuts and scrapes, nearly healed.

He had a foggy memory, like a dream, of you tracing your fingers over his lip, a touch he retraced now like he could feel you on his skin, could feel your warmth from being pulled out of bed, and then he remembered how good you'd smelled, like vanilla and amber... Had he really gone to your room in the middle of the night? He would almost be embarrassed if he didn't feel so fucking smitten about it.

The group dragged themselves to breakfast, hoods drawn; Theo even sported an oversized pair of sunglasses, whether to cover his black eye or to abade his hangover, no one was sure. They were talking in rasp whispers about the night before when Mattheo caught sight of you leaving the Great Hall with a few of your friends, his feet moving on autopilot towards you before he knew what he was doing, breaking rank to his friends' bewilderment.

"Hey" he said, catching your attention. "I-uhh, thanks for last night, I guess" he smiled, even as he carded his hand through his hair, a bit abashed.

"I am genuinely surprised you remember any of it" you said, laughing.

"F'course I do" he said confidently.

"So, you'll keep your promise then?" you retorted as you cocked your head expectantly.

Promise? What fucking promise?

"Yeah, of course I will" he said, even as his mind drew a complete blank on what you were referring to.

Your eyebrows shot up as a wide smile graced your lips and you crossed your arms, ready to challenge him before you were interupted.

"—Wait, is this her?" Theo barged in, pushing Mattheo aside, the others following closely behind.

"Can she look at my nose?" Draco tried. "I think that fucker broke—"

"—No. Stop, stop it." Mattheo said, dragging them away from you gruffly as you laughed, waving to Enzo who was waving eagerly to you despite Mattheo's efforts to contain him.

Your cheeks were crimson. He'd told his friends about you.

That giddiness carried you throughout your day. You felt like you were floating from class to class, like a fifth house ghost, your spirits high even as you resigned yourself to the infirmary that evening while the rest of the school made their way to the quidditch pitch for the final game of the season, the House Cup: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

A dark storm had settled over the mountains and the last of the sun disappeared behind large, black clouds that brought with them torrential wind and rain that you watched cascade in sheets against the windows. You were disappointed to be missing the game, missing the chance to watch Mattheo play, but you were also happy to be inside, dry and warm.

You settled into your book, trying your best to enjoy it, but you found yourself reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again, unable to clear your mind from the night before, the way Mattheo settled effortlessly on your bed in a way that even now had your stomach clenching, the way his dark eyes followed you in the white moonlight, the way he smiled under caked blood and the warmth and softness of his skin and his lips under your fingertips; and finally the way he'd grabbed you, perhaps stronger than he'd intended, fingers pressing into the thin silk that covered you, leaving imprints on your skin. Your heart was racing and you felt warm at the memory as you set your book down and exhaled shakily.

It wasn't a moment later that you heard a commotion in the corridor, loud voices and shuffling feet before a large group burst through the doors, professors and students crowding around two quidditch players, the sight making your heart constrict in your chest, until you noticed a red jersey on one and the flash of Draco Malfoy's bright blonde hair on the other. You scurried to help guide him to a cot as he groaned, his eyes squeezing in pain as a gash on his forehead dripped blood down the side of his face.

"What the hell happened?!" you asked Professor Sinistra who had a deep frown set on her face.

"The storm is making it impossible to see anything, they should have cancelled the damn match" she said. "These two collided and there's another one coming - he tried to grab Malfoy and took a bludger straight to the knee before falling 60 feet to the ground."

Draco continued to writhe in pain in front of you and Professor Sinistra was still talking but she sounded distant, almost underwater, because dread and fear had settled over you. Somehow you knew before you turned around that the third player was Mattheo, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him being supported between Theo and Blaise.

He was limping on one leg as the other dragged uselessly beneath him. He was soaked through, his hair stuck to his forehead and his jersey stuck to his skin. He was covered in mud and his face was like stone, marble white as he stared sternly at a spot on the ground, jaw clenched.

You dropped what you had been doing, rudely brushing past Professor Sinistra and rushed to his side.

"Here, put him here" you said to Theo and Blaise, leading them to an empty cot.

"Nahh - fuck - get someone else" Mattheo said sharply in a way so cutting and raw that you froze, like his words had struck you like a charm.

"W-What?" you said as the boys lowered him to the bed, exchanging glances.

"You heard me YLN. Get someone else!" he said angrily, almost yelling.

You turned to face the rest of the infirmary which was in a state of utter chaos between the nurses, students and professors running back and forth; the raging storm outside cracked and boomed, setting you further on edge.

Tears welled in your eyes at how overwhelmed you were and how angry Mattheo was. Your head was spinning. Clearly he didn't care about you at all, you had been a convenience, a means to an end, someone who could patch him up when he was too drunk to go to the infirmary, and he'd used his good looks and charm on you like he did everyone else to get what he wanted. You had been an utter fool. Now his injuries were serious and he wanted someone with experience, not some girl to exchange flirty banter with.

Your eyes scanned the room again and you swiped angrily at your cheeks as several tears escaped.

"Well, there isn't anyone else, Mattheo" you said, the realization hitting you simultaneously that you were responsible for him.

He groaned in annoyance and threw his head back on his pillow, which Theo and Blaise thankfully took as their cue to go. You drew the curtains behind them, struggling to calm yourself, to get a semblance of control.

"You took a bludger to the knee?" you asked. "What else, where does it hurt?"

He was silent, face grimaced, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Suppose I'll just have to undress you and find out for myself then?" you tried. But even that didn't work as he remained quiet and shame and embarrassment set over you.

You took a steadying breath and quickly wiped another errant tear away before approaching him cautiously, moving to unlace his boots as gently as you could, but even that caused him to tense. Delicately, you began to cut his trousers from the bottom and within three snips could you see a sicky swelling letting you know that this was bad....very bad. He'd well shattered his knee and likely broke his fibula and tibia too, his entire leg was a disaster. You had no idea how he'd remained so calm despite it all and you were worried that this might be too complex for you to mend.

You mixed him a strong healing and numbing potion and he took it from you wordlessly, gruffly. Gone was his bashful smile from this morning, the twinkle in his eye, it was like he wanted nothing to do with you, downing the potion in one go, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"Mattheo, I can't imagine how painful this must be, but I'll fix it, I-I promise" you said.

His eyes shifted darkly to you for only a moment, anger and distain clear in his gaze before he looked away again, never saying a word.

You applied just about everything you'd ever learned about mending bones, tendons, muscles and sinew and within moments of taking the potion, Mattheo had fallen into a deep sleep, allowing you to work without fear of hurting him further. It took the better part of two hours, by which time the rest of the infirmary had settled and Madam Pomfrey came to check on you. She was difficult to please, but she scrutinized your work with a sharp eye before complimenting you thoroughly, you had done it.

You were depleted, exhausted, both physically and emotionally but you didn't stop as you wiped the caked mud from Mattheo's cheeks and gingerly cut away the rest of his wet clothing, fearful he'd catch a chill, thinking you deserved some sort of medal for your level of professionalism as your fingers traced his strong muscles, veined arms and faded scars. You pulled a blanket over him, charmed to stay warm before you finally slumped into a chair at his side.

Your entire body was tense, and your muscles were sore. You let yourself catch your breath as your emotions finally caught up with you and you bit your lip to keep from crying at how foolish you felt.

Madam Pomfrey poked her head through the curtain. "You're free to go" she said quietly.

You glanced back at Mattheo before turning to her. "I think I'll stay...just in case" you whispered.

She pursed her lips knowingly before nodding curtly and walking back to her station at the far end of the room.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but eventually you fell into a fitful sleep riddled with nightmares of falling into deep darkness with nothing and no one to catch you.

Mattheo came to in a haze, enveloped in a soft warmth that brought a smile to his lips; for some reason, it reminded him of you, and it smelled like you, like warm vanilla and amber spice. As if in a dream, a memory came rushing back to him, of another time he was engulfed by you, of feeling your gentle touch on his lips in a way that made them tingle even now.

"How'sthis" he said. "I promise if I'm ever this'fucked again, and you haveta take care o'me, I'll take you ona date?" Your eyes shot to his, shining against the moonlight streaming into your bedroom and he clocked the twitch of your lip, the rose of your cheeks, Gods how he loved to make you blush. "Yeah?" you said jokingly. "Yeah" he said, feeling confident. You refocused your attention on his lip, your touch soaking through him like sunlight. "Well, for your sake, I hope that doesn't happen, you're a mess" you chided. Then, quietly, "But for mine, I look forward to it."

His heart soared and he reached for you only to come back with empty hands. He continued to grasp for you until his eyes fluttered open and he realized where he was. The memory of the game came rushing back to him, the flash of thunder and lighting, the fear of seeing his best mate falling off his broom as he raced to grab him, and then the crunch and splitting pain of his knee shattering, the scream he'd let out that was drowned by the storm.

His stomach roiled as he relived the way his friends had dragged him back to the castle, how every bump of his foot felt like torture. He tensed now, waiting for the pain, nearly nauseating himself with the memories, but he felt...nothing. A dull ached radiated from his knee and it felt stiff, but the sharpness was gone, replaced with a pulsing warmth.

His eyes blinked in the low candlelight, coming to rest on you, curled uncomfortably in a chair next to his bed, and he realized he should have known, should have recognized that you were the constant peace on the other side of his pain.

You were asleep, but your face was scrunched in discomfort, in concern and he clocked the smudge of your eye makeup, the loose strands of your hair falling on your face, and the fact that you were wearing the same clothes from earlier this morning, when he'd made you smile. Now, you looked distraught, upset and his stomach clenched as he remembered the way he'd spoken to you.

He had been in so much pain and pain is weakness he could hear in his head over and over again as he'd tried unsuccessfully to fight it. She's going to think you're weak, pathetic. He didn't want to be weak in front of you, he didn't want you to see him that way. He was proud when you mended his busted knuckles, his split lip, or even his smashed fingers, you didn't need a weak, crying git. But then he remembered the crushed look on your face as he'd yelled at you, and he realized he'd been a git all the same.

"Hey" he said, his voice coming out quieter than he'd intended, scratchy with sleep.

"Hey" he tried again.

You woke, startled. "Are you alright?" you asked, bolting upright in your chair, setting a hand on his arm. "Here, let me check your—"

"—I'm fine" he said, laughing. "More than, actually."

"Oh" you said, settling back down. "Good."

A moment of tepid silence passed between you.

"Look, m'sorry about earlier" he said, his sleep ridden voice coaxing your eyes to meet his as he opened his hand on the bed beside him, stretching it out for yours.

You hesitated, pursing your lips, and he could tell you were hurt.

"Can you keep a secret?" he tried.

You nodded.

"That fucking hurt, a lot" he exhaled as he let his vulnerability show.

"That's not really a secret. You shattered your knee, fibula and tibia, Mattheo, and you also have three bruised ribs and two more broken fingers" you said, pointing to his other hand.

"Well, would you look at that" he said smartly, twiddling his fingers back and forth.

"Draco cried harder over a hairline fracture, you'd have thought he was dying" you laughed quietly as you rolled your eyes.

Mattheo let out an earnest laugh at that before he grabbed his side.

"Do not tell him I said that—"

"—I am absolutely telling him you said that!" he said cockily as you both laughed until you fell into silence again.

He opened his palm again and you moved closer, setting your hand in his, which he enveloped in his warm grasp, gently rubbing a thumb over your fingers.

"I didn't want you to think I'm weak" he said finally, the truth settling over both of you like a blanket.

"Pain isn't weakness, Mattheo" you said simply, and the fact that in one instant you had understood exactly what he had meant had his dark chocolate eyes locked on yours.

"And anyway" you continued, "you don't have a weak bone in your body, your pain tolerance must be through the roof."

He didn't have the heart to tell you he hurt just like everyone else, he'd just had more practice with it, so he shrugged.

"Well all things considered, I feel great... thank you" he said, twirling your fingers together before tugging them gently, pulling you to sit on the bed beside him, close enough to feel the warmth between you. "I do have a couple of complaints though."

Your eyebrow quirked, suddenly serious.

"You got me nearly naked here before I could take you on that date I promised, hardly seems fair" he smirked.

You blushed, opening your mouth to defend yourself. So he did remember after all you thought.

"I'm kidding" he said lightly. "But start thinking about where I can take you. A promise is a promise."

You couldn't hide the smile on your face even as you tried, glancing into your lap, your cheeks Mattheo's favorite shade of blushed red.

"And what else?" you asked, trying to deflect.

"You missed something. I think I fucked my lip up, real bad" he said.

Your eyes twinkled as they looked at him, glancing briefly at his perfect lips, free from any mark or mar.

"I don't know, I don't see anything" you said, jokingly, taking his face in your hand, pretending to examine him.

"C'mon, c'mere you've got to get closer" he teased, pulling you into him, so your noses were nearly touching, your heart pounding in your chest.

He paused, relishing the moment, letting his fingers trace a line from your cheek to your jaw, letting your lips hover a breath away from his before he cupped your face and closed the distance between you.

He kissed you tentatively, softly, with a tenderness that made every inch of you feel like melted honey but it was only a breath before his restraint broke, intoxicated by you and every moment he'd daydreamed about the way you'd feel against him, the way you'd taste as he cupped both sides of your face and pulled you further into him. You grasped for purchase as the blanket between you slipped revealing his bare chest and you wound your arms around his bare shoulders, tangling your fingers into his hair, eliciting a muffled moan from deep within him. You nibbled his lip playfully before you pulled back, and he grasped you harder, fighting the distance.

"How's that?" you asked, breathlessly.

"Still unbearably painful, gorgeous, keep trying" he smiled against your lips before kissing you again.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @pizzaapeteer @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @rositxespinosa @longpondlibrary @littlebookbengal @lovetaylorrussellgrr

[cartersblogabtnothing]

i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…

…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.

my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:

1)

dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.

but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?

he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.

at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.

they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)

2)

jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.

he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.

jason fucking hates spiders.

he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.

he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.

on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.

red spandex! what the fuck!

the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.

jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.

he’s mildly impressed.

3)

tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.

he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.

he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.

where is he?

he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.

he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.

what the fuck?

he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.

“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.

“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.

“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”

“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.

“accent.” the person shrugs.

the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.

by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.

4)

damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.

in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.

he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.

but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.

he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.

before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.

“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”

damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.

“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.

“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.

the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.

the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.

he almost doesn’t want to leave.

5)

while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.

so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.

he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.

right?

duke could only hope so.

he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.

he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.

duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.

does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.

he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.

duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.

he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.

duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.

6)

cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.

she uses context clues as well.

the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.

if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?

she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.

she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.

one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.

cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.

she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.

the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.

eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.

“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.

“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.

the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.

sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.

but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.

[sturnlsstuff]

Phone sex with ghostface!matt/chris and he uses the voice modulator (ghostface's voice) because he knows that reader loves it

divider credits. @anitalenia

"c'mon, jus' tell me your favorite scary movie and i'll let you cum..." his low, hoarse voice echoes on the other end of the phone. the voice modulator matt uses sends shivers down your spine, your fingers start pumping in and out faster of your dripping pussy, the wet squelching fill the room.

"i don't remember the name!" you whine desperately, back arching up as you try to grind against your hand more.

"you do, sweetheart, just think—"

matt felt like he was on another planet, panting into the phone while his thumb kept rubbing against his leaking with precum tip, making his cock throb in his grip. the way he also saw you through the camera he had in your room made it even harder for him to hold back, but he wanted to see you lose control just because of his voice before he comes.

"i.... uhm—" the wheels in your head turning around, the name of the horror movie at the end of your tongue, but you weren't able to remember it while matt was literally keeping you on the edge, causing your legs to tremble.

"rub harder f'me, yeah?" a groan leaves him when he sees on the screen of his other phone how you immediately listen to him and put more pressure into circling your clit. "you got this, i know you do— holyyy fuckk, just say it—"

matt squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to wait for you. he thrusts into his fist, chewing on his bottom plump lip to muffle his sounds.

"matt, i don't remember..." you cry out, curling up your fingers to hit your g-spot which makes your vision go blurry.

"yes, you do—" he says with emphasis on his words, his hand starts moving faster. he was struggling not to release all over himself.

pleasure starts overwhelming you as your thumb presses against your swollen bud even more.

"t-the.... the conjuring! the conjuring—"

matt growls, squeezing his dick slightly, his hips jerking upwards. "there you fuckin' go... was it so hard?" his jaw is slacked as he watches you through the camera, the way you desperately grip the sheets, trying to grind against your own hand... fuck, matt was too far gone. "come all over your hand, sweetheart— lemme.... lemme see—"

a wave of relief washes over you at his words especially with the voice modulator that was making his voice even hotter. the thought of him on the other side of the phone jerking off because of how turn on he made you, makes your toes curl.

the moans of his name escaping your lips steal a feral moan from matt, his cock twitches, warm drops of cum bursting from his tip, panting his thighs and lower stomach. "s-shitttt, you always make me go crazy—"

your eyes roll back as you cream around your fingers, pumping them to ride out your orgasm and drawing out the pleasure for as long as you can.

as you both stop your movements, you can hear his heavy breathing which makes goosebumps appear on your skin. the effect it has on you is even bigger with the modulator matt uses. your hand holding the phone is shaking slightly, when he speaks up again.

"see? told ya it's gonna be fun."

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10

[pedropascallovebot]

Challenging

Luigi Mangione x reader

✧˖°.

a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened

cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here

⋆˙⟡

It had started off as a joke, really.

Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.

It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.

No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.

You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.

Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.

You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.

He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.

Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.

You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.

"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.

He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.

That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.

Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.

When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.

"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.

Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"

You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.

"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.

"Lay back for me."

He obeys.

Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.

"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.

"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.

"Hmm?"

You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.

"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.

Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.

"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"

You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.

Not yet. Not yet.

You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.

Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.

"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.

He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.

Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.

You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.

"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.

"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"

Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.

"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.

He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.

You don't think you've ever been this wet.

When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.

"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."

You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."

Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.

However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.

You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.

He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-

You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.

"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.

It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.

You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.

"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.

You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.

So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.

Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.

When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..

"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.

He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.

You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.

"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.

When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.

"There you are."

He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.

"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.

Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.

"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.

"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."

[alltheeya]

Fluffy bunny || l.hs

genre: established relationship, fluff

word count: 1.8k

notes: endearment (heeseung calling the reader "angel"), enha members appearance

It was a regular day, and Heeseung found himself wandering around a mall after finishing his schedule early. As he strolled past a store window, something caught his eye—a display of plushies. Among the rows of stuffed animals, a particularly cute one stood out: a fluffy bunny with floppy ears and big round eyes.

Without thinking too much, Heeseung walked into the store and bought it. There was no special occasion, no grand reason—he just thought it was something you would like. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see your smile.

Later that evening, when they met up after their practices, Heeseung casually pulled the plushie out of his bag and handed it to you. “Here,” he said, his tone almost nonchalant, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked at the plushie in his hands, your eyes widening with excitement. “Oh my gosh!” you squealed, taking it gently like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Hee, it’s so cute!”

You immediately hugged the bunny, your fingers squeezing it as you made tiny squeaky noises of delight. “It’s so soft! Look at its little ears!” you exclaimed, squishing its face with an adorable intensity that made Heeseung blink in surprise.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “You really like it that much?”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, holding the plushie up like it was a prized possession. you gave him the brightest smile, your eyes practically sparkling. “Thank you, Hee. This is the cutest thing ever.”

Heeseung felt a strange warmth in his chest, your reaction more than enough to make his random purchase worth it. He hadn’t expected you to be this happy over a simple plushie, but seeing you so excited made him silently note to himself: Buy her cute stuff more often.

As you continued gushing over the bunny and imagining what kind of “personality” it would have, Heeseung watched you with a soft smile. You looked so carefree and radiant, your  happiness infectious. It was adorable, but Heeseung couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

“So,” he started, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly, “You like the bunny more than me?”

You gasped dramatically, clutching the plushie tighter to your  chest as if shielding it from Heeseung. “Heeseung! How could you say that?” you teased, feigning offense.

Heeseung smirked, leaning closer with a raised brow. “I’m just asking. You seem pretty attached already,” he said, nodding toward the bunny in your  arms. “Do I need to be jealous?”

You tilted your  head, your  lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Hmm… I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think. “This bunny doesn’t tease me as much as you do. It’s soft, it’s cute, and it’s very well-behaved.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms. “So, it's a competition now? Should I start being fluffier and cuter for you?”

You  laughed, reaching out to poke his cheek. “You already are, Hee,” you said with a warm smile, pinching his cheek. “But the bunny is a close second.”

Heeseung let out a mock sigh of defeat, shaking his head. “We’ve spent months together and this bunny got 5 minutes and it’s already stealing you from me.”

You  giggled and leaned forward, your  free hand tugging gently on his sleeve. “You know you’re my favorite,” you said softly, your gaze meeting his.

“Even more than the bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“Definitely,” you assured him with a playful wink. Then, you held up the plushie. “But don’t worry, you both have a special place in my heart.”

Heeseung chuckled, ruffling your hair lightly. “Good to know, Angel. But just so you remember, I’m the one who got you that bunny.”

“And I love you for it,” you replied with a grin, hugging the plushie and giving Heeseung a quick, cheeky side-eye.

Heeseung shook his head in mock exasperation, muttering under his breath, “I’m competing with a stuffed toy now.” But the fond smile tugging at his lips gave away just how much he adored you and your quirky reactions.

Heeseung chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. “Don’t you think it needs a name?”

You paused, your eyes narrowing in thought as you gazed at the plushie. “Hmm, you’re right. It does need a name…”

Before you could continue, Heeseung smirked, leaning in slightly. “It can be... I dunno... like our child?”

You blinked, caught off guard. You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, nearly toppling over with the plushie still in your arms. “Our child?” you repeated, your tone incredulous but amused.

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, though the teasing glint in his eyes gave him away. “Why not? You’re already treating it like it’s real. Might as well make it official.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you looked down at the bunny. “Okay, Dad. If it’s our kid, then you get to help pick the name.”

“Hmm…” Heeseung tapped his chin dramatically, pretending to think hard. “How about... Fluffball?”

You groaned playfully. “Heeseung, no. That’s so basic!”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You pick, Angel.”

You stared at the bunny for a moment, your lips pursed. “How about… Bunji?”

“Bunji?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! It’s cute, right? ” you said, tilting your head. “Like a little nickname. Bunji!”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? But fine, Bunji it is.”

You grinned triumphantly, holding the bunny up like a trophy. “Welcome to the family, Bunji!”

Heeseung shook his head, watching you with a fond smile. “I still can’t believe I’m competing with a stuffed animal.”

“Competing? Don’t be silly,” you  said, leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “You’re the one who made me fall for Bunji in the first place. So technically, it’s all your fault.”

“Great,” Heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation. But as you leaned your head against his shoulder, still clutching the bunny, he couldn’t help but think he’d gladly buy you a million more Bunji’s just to see you this happy again.

A few weeks pass by with you cuddling Bunji every night, often sending his picture to Heeseung as the two of you text ‘good night’. One day, you looked at Bunji with sad eyes. You and your friends are going on a trip for two weeks which means Bunji will be alone for a while. But then, an idea popped into your head…

You stood in front of Heeseung with Bunji cradled in your arms, your expression serious despite the soft plushie nestled against your chest. You two were in a quiet corner of the company building.

“It’s your turn to watch over Bunji,” you declared, holding out the bunny plushie toward Heeseung.

He blinked, staring at you and the plushie. “Wait, what?”

“I’m going on a trip, Hee. I won’t be home for two weeks,” you explained, your tone as if this were a matter of utmost importance. “Bunji can’t stay all alone, so it’s your responsibility to take care of him now. You’re the dad.”

Heeseung stared at you, then at Bunji, then back at you. “Angel, you do realize this is a plushie, right?”

Your eyes narrowed, and you placed Bunji into his hands, crossing your arms. “Excuse me, Bunji is part of our family. Don’t act like he’s just a plushie.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh at how serious you were about it. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of Bunji while you’re gone. But… are there instructions or something? Does he have a bedtime?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… he doesn’t need a bedtime, but he does need cuddles, especially if you’re watching movies. Oh, and don’t leave him in random places, okay? He doesn’t like being forgotten.”

Heeseung grinned, playing along. “Got it. Cuddles during movies and no abandonment. Anything else?”

You leaned in, your expression softening. “Just… take care of him. It’s silly, I know, but Bunji kind of makes me feel like home. So… if he’s with you, it’s like I’m there, too.”

His teasing demeanor faded, replaced by something gentler. He nodded, holding Bunji a little closer. “Don’t worry, Angel. I’ll take good care of him.”

You  beamed, clearly satisfied. “Good. I expect updates, by the way. Photos, videos—proof that Bunji’s okay.”

Heeseung laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’re unbelievable. But fine, you’ll get your updates. Bunji’s in good hands.”

As you left to prepare for your trip, Heeseung glanced down at Bunji in his hands. The bunny’s stitched smile seemed to mock him a little, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his own lips.

“Well, Bunji,” he said, placing the plushie on his couch. “Looks like it’s you and me for a while. Let’s make her proud, huh?”

When Heeseung brought Bunji back to the Enhypen dorms, it was safe to say that chaos ensued.

Heeseung strolled into the living room with the bunny plushie tucked under his arm like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jungwon was the first to notice, his sharp eyes narrowing as he pointed dramatically.

“Hyung… what is that?”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, holding up Bunji for everyone to see. “This is Bunji. Y/n asked me to take care of him while she's on a trip.”

Jay nearly choked on his water. “Wait, you’re babysitting a plushie?!”

“Yes,” Heeseung replied matter-of-factly, placing Bunji gently on the couch like he was tucking in a child. “She said Bunji’s part of the family.”

Jake leaned over, inspecting the plushie like it was some kind of rare artifact. “So… what exactly are you supposed to do with it?”

“Cuddles during movies, no abandonment, regular photo updates,” Heeseung recited like he’d been given a manual.

The room erupted in laughter.

“Hyung, are you seriously going along with this?” Sunoo asked, barely able to contain his giggles.

Heeseung shrugged, smoothing out Bunji’s ears. “Of course I am. It makes Y/n happy.”

The teasing didn’t stop there. Niki grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around Bunji like a swaddle. “Don’t worry, Bunji. Uncle Ni-ki’s got your back if Dad messes up.”

“Uncle Ni-ki?” Jay snorted. “Then what does that make the rest of us?”

“Godparents,” Jake chimed in without missing a beat.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Laugh all you want, but Bunji’s staying here, and you all better treat him with respect.”

Later that night, Heeseung sent you  a picture of Bunji perched on the couch, surrounded by the members. Ni-ki was holding up a peace sign, Sunghoon looked begrudgingly amused, and Jake had the blanket still wrapped around the plushie. The caption read:

“Bunji’s safe and sound, surrounded by his ‘uncles.’”

You replied almost instantly:

“Aww you’re such a good dad, Hee. 🐰💗”

Despite the initial teasing, the members eventually warmed up to Bunji’s presence, even jokingly assigning him a spot on their couch. And whenever Heeseung caught sight of the little plushie, it reminded him of your beaming smile—and that made all the teasing worth it.

[mattsmedusa]

✎ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦 ✮ 𝐜.𝐬 『 +𝟏𝟖 』

ⓘ to open these links, you’ve to be logged in to X (aka twitter). although both links are anal, this blurb isn’t (p in v).

𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤: ♡ (+ 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤: ✩ )

chris’ hand grasped your hip, his fingers sinking in subtly due to how tightly he was holding you—almost possessively in a way. his other hand grasped the base of his throbbing cock, giving it a few pumps as he looked down at your glistening pussy – all wet and ready for him – and a groan left his lips.

"fucking hell, look at you," chris rasped, running the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, coating himself with your slick arousal. "so fucking wet for me huh?" he smirked, a shudder running through him at the feeling of your slick pussy making the sensitive head of his cock slide up and down your slit with ease.

both of you let out breathy moans when he finally stopped at your entrance and pushed inside. the languid motion let you feel every inch of his cock as it sank further into your warmth. "ffuuuckk–mmph..." chris grunted, grasping both your hips with his hands as he surged forward, bottoming out—his pelvis pushed against your ass.

the sudden fullness left you gasping, stars bursting behind your eyes when he started to move almost immediately, his cock hitting so deep that it made you a moaning mess sooo damn quickly. his pace faltered only to take his phone from the bed beside you to record it.

his hand moved to the small of your back before it slid down until it was on your ass and his fingers dug into the flesh there as he started to move faster against you – effectively keeping you from bouncing away from his thrusts. his right hand held his phone up, recording where you were connected, groaning quietly at the way your pussy swallowed him up so eagerly.

chris’ bracelet jingled with each slam of his hips against your ass, mingling with the wet squelches from your sopping pussy taking his cock and your moans and praises of pleasure. he knew his phone was picking up alll the lewd sounds and the thought sent shivers through him knowing he could watch it again.

his breathing grew heavier as he got closer and closer to that euphoric feeling, his thrusts were growing more frenzied – his hips colliding with your ass and creating loud slapping sounds that rivalled with the wet sounds of your weeping cunt. small drops of wetness dropped onto the sheets due to his cock pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace.

chris thought he could last a bit longer, he really did, but the moment your pussy clenched and unclenched around him rhythmically along with your mewls of ecstasy as you orgasmed was too much.

"f-fu--ck—ma, turn around." he gasped urgently, pulling himself out just in time as the first small rope of his pearly cum sprayed out, followed by bigger spurts as he fisted his cock furiously over your face when you turned around to face him, painting your face and eager tongue white with his spend.

a shuddering moan left his lips as the last rope of cum fell onto the sheets, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips when you wiped the bit of cum that accidentally landed on your eyelid, but he quickly stopped giggling when he saw your glare. "sorry, sorry, i'll be extra careful next time." he grinned unapologetically despite his apology, helping you wipe your face after stopping the video.

yeah, he’s definitely jerking off to that later.

୨୧

✩ ˙˖˚᮫ ⁱˢᵃ ᮭ ᮭ.ᐟ i feel like the majority of y’all have watched these videos already, but it’s honestly so hot so i had to write something... it’s always that slutty ass bracelet 😔

𝐰𝐜. 𝟓𝟐𝟑

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @chaossturns @mels4ngel @lypsiiii @sydneyylainn @sturniolozbae @hearts4werka @strnilolover @matts-sidepiece @hearts4sturniolo @ivysturnss @bumbl3b34 @sophand4n4 @sagesturns @giveheavensomehell @gwennybenny @whore4mattsturniolo @forgottxen @christmastreecake @il0vey0um0st

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐚

[cottonlemonade]

First Date

word count: 1251 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: i have been giggling and squealing for the past 20 minutes over how cute and genius the request form is 😭 LIKE ITS SO SMART AND ADORABLE I HAD TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT. so anyways me and Tsukishima are getting 15 and 25 for breakfast, and then we'll go home to study! || fluffy, members of the same club, first date with crush Tsukki

Tsukishima never subscribed to the tradition of New Year's resolutions. In his mind, why bother setting unrealistic goals for oneself only to be disappointed? Whenever his friends and family asked, never learning their lesson, he would adjust his glasses and say, “Nothing.”, then silently add get saltier 2025. When he entered the gym for the first time after the winter break, however, he had to rethink. You were standing on a little stepladder, struggling to detach the last bit of Christmas decoration you had insisted on hanging on the walls before everyone went home for the holidays. Your chubby tummy looked even softer now bumping out your seasonal sweater.

“You know, if you can’t take them down by yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have put them up in the first place.”, he grumbled.

“Oh, hey, and a happy new year to you, Tsukki!”, you said brightly, turning to him and waving.

His heart did a little jump at the gesture.

Unfortunately, he had fallen for you pretty early on in your career as club manager when you bonded over your mutual hatred of overzealous people and loud obnoxious music played in department stores, and artificial watermelon flavor. He had since imagined you two walking across campus hand in hand, sharing more things to despise together. But in order to do that, he had to ask you out first. A hurdle he decided to take this year.

In his first draft of a date idea, he wanted to invite you out to dinner, but that was strongly vetoed by his wallet. Thus, a simple coffee would have to do for now. He shifted slightly, tapping the tip of his shoe on the floor to find an angle with which to direct the conversation where he needed it. Lucky for him, you did it yourself, although not in a way he hoped.

“Mikoshiba asked me out over Christmas, by the way.”

Tsukishima grimaced. He hated both the thought and the easy-going redhead, who all too much reminded him of the former Nekoma captain.

“Ah.”, he said, looking at a despicably jolly Santa bauble in the box sat on the top of the stepladder. An internal battle between wanting to ask for details and immediately smack-talking the other guy rose in his chest. Again, you made it easy for him.

“I didn’t go, though.”

“Hm. How come?”

You finally got the end of the garland off the wall, with no help from the tall boy, who could have grabbed it without effort.

He was met with a shrug.

“Not really my type. And he asked me out for coffee, which, I dunno, just feels pretty uninspired for a first date. I get that it’s a classic, but I wouldn’t mind some creativity.”, you hopped back onto the floor, “Plus, cafés around here are super overpriced.”

“Right.”

After trying your best to stuff the long prickly decoration into the box, you went to put it all away and, looking over your shoulder, you saw that he hadn’t moved from his spot next to the ladder where you left him.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him was off today. More so than usual. Box in your arms, you came to a halt in front of a closed door. You turned on your heel, tilting your head in question.

“Could you open the door to the supply closet, please?”, you asked sweetly, since there was no indication he would be coming to your aid. He seemed deep in thought.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

It only took him three steps with those long legs to reach you. Before he pushed down the door handle, however, he said, “There is a limited New Year’s hot bun out at the convenience store.”

You blinked in confusion.

“Okay?”

“It’s one with sweet potato noodles and stuff. You like those.”

“I… I do. Thanks, I’ll check it out.”

The door remained closed, his hand still on the handle.

“There is a two-for-one sale.”, he went on after a pause.

You frowned, so completely lost as to the point of this conversation because it was obviously not informing you of a banging sale. “... Nice.”

He suppressed an impatient click of his tongue. This was going horribly, how dense could someone be?

“We can go together.”, he said.

“Alright…?”

“Like… today. I’m going there now anyway. I wouldn’t mind if you came along.”

“Uhm. Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“So are you gonna open this door any time soon or…”

“Right.”

Tsukki didn’t speak much with you as you headed to the convenience store. He pointed out a dog in a sweater for no reason at all and then went silent again. You still couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to come with him. Usually, he avoided any unnecessary social situation and in your opinion, this was as unnecessary as it got. You were roughly 94 percent sure he could handle getting the buns by himself.

“We should just eat here while we’re at it.”, he said as the glass doors slid open.

Maybe he had trouble with his roommate again and wanted to prolong going home, you speculated. In that case, you were pretty touched that he preferred your company over having none at all.

Food was gathered and warmed up and you took the two free seats at the small wooden table by the onigiri shelf. Watching you struggle to open a can of soda for a few seconds he took it from you with a surprisingly gentle, “Here. Let me.” then set it back down in front of you.

“Thanks.”

You ate in silence. Some current chart songs were coming from the overhead radio and you lightly bobbed your head along as you bit happily into the delicious hot bun. Tsukki placed a fried dumpling he had picked out as well on the plastic lid of your open container. “Try these. They’re good.”

“Famks.”, you mumbled through stuffed cheeks of sweet potato noodles and stuff, then eyed him suspiciously as you swallowed.

Either he was trying to discreetly poison you or, “Tsukki… is … is this a date?”

“What? No.”, he said quickly and lowered his head when the store clerk looked over.

“Oh okay. Just making sure.” You went back to the food, spearing the dumpling with your chopsticks but keeping an eye on him.

“If it were, it would be definitely more creative than a café though, right?”

You paused midair to your bite.

“So this is a date.”

“Yes. - No. I dunno. Don’t make it weird, okay?”

You slowly spun the dumpling around, studying Tsukki’s pink ear tips.

Never in a million years would you have guessed that this guy, who never had a nice word for anyone and less enthusiasm than a snail on a Sunday afternoon, could ever ask you out.

You considered him for a moment. He was pretty cute the way he avoided your gaze now. It was worth a try.

“Do you… like jazz?”

Tsukki squinted at you in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with you?”, he furrowed his brow but was unable to hide a relieved chuckle in there.

“Well, it was getting awkward so when in doubt, Bee Movie to the rescue.”, you laughed in your defense.

He finally cracked a proper smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Agh, okay, the next date is going to be better, I swear.”

You both nodded and grinned quietly at your dumplings, then continued to eat.

a/n: 🥺🥺🥺 dear anon, thank you so so much for that sweet message and I apologize about the delay! I hope you enjoyed this story nonetheless 🌟

Also borrowing Mikoshiba for this aka the only straight character from Free!

[4linos]

first steps, second chances

bang chan x fem!reader

synopsis/request: chan grapples with guilt after missing his son’s first steps, but a beautiful, unspoken connection during the following morning's moment makes him realize that the love between them is always present, no matter the timing.

wc: 2044

(a/n: i definitely see chan as a girl dad but i don’t know why i felt like writing him as a boy dad for this🤧.)

The day felt impossibly long. With back-to-back rehearsals, hectic tour preparations, and late-night meetings, Chan had little time to think, let alone rest. But no matter how busy his schedule got, he told himself and you that he'd be there when his baby boy took his first steps. It was a milestone that no parent, especially him, wanted to miss. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, to save the memory forever, not through a screen.

But life, as it often did, had other plans.

You sat on the couch, a few feet from your son, who was happily playing with his blocks. The little noises of his little fingers moving the pieces were reassuring, a gentle reminder of how important these early memories were. You watched his gaze shift, lingering on you as if he was considering what he should do next. He wobbled slightly, then attempted to push himself up, his small hands grabbing the carpet for support.

You knew. You felt it in your chest. This was it.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone and called Chan's number, pleading he'd respond in time. But there was nothing. His phone kept ringing, and you watched as steadied himself, balancing on his little feet for a moment before taking a tentative step toward you.

You didn’t even think twice.

You tapped the screen, recording the moment with shaky hands as your son took another wobbly step, then another. He was doing it. He was walking, and you were cheering him on, your voice trembling with pride and awe.

"Look, baby, you're doing it! You're walking!" you whispered, half-laughing, half-crying, capturing the magic of it.

You ended the video quickly, wanting to keep the moment just for you, even though part of you wished more than anything that Chan had been there. But he’d catch up, you told yourself. You’d share it with him when he called back.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed again. You saw his name flash across the screen, and you answered, smiling through the bittersweet weight in your chest.

“Babe, where were you? He just..he just took his first steps,” you said, trying to hide the sting of disappointment.

You could hear the panic in his voice, the way it broke with guilt. “No, no, no, I missed it? I-I wasn’t there?”

The weight of his words struck you hard. Chan was heartbroken, and you could hear his disappointment over the phone. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I promised I'd be there. I should have been there."

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply to steady yourself. You didn't want him to feel this way, especially given how important the day had been for both of you.

"You didn't miss it, Chan. You didn't miss him. He will do it again. You'll see him walk in person soon. I know you will. And he knows you're there." But the sadness in his voice did not change. "I wanted to be there." "I should have been there, Y/N."

When Chan arrived home that evening, you could sense the weight of the day pushing down on him. His shoulders fell as he stepped in, and he didn't look like himself. He kissed you softly on the cheek, but not with the usual warmth. He was still disappointed, and his guilt was eating away at him.

You didn't say anything immediately away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer as you sat down on the couch. He nestled into you, the comfort of your presence the only thing that kept him grounded in that moment. His hand brushed through your hair, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He seemed tired and distant.

“I hate that I wasn’t there,” he muttered after a while, his voice low and strained.

You ran your fingers along his jaw, tracing the lines of his face. “I know, Chan. I know. But it’s okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“But I promised.” His voice cracked slightly. “I said I’d be there when he took his first steps. I wanted to see it, Y/N. I wanted to be there with you.”

“I know. And I want you to know that he’s still going to keep walking, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Every one of them. You’re going to be there for his first word, his first soccer game, his first date or whatever it is. He’s not going to remember that you weren’t here today. He’ll remember how you were there every other day.”

Chan's breath hitched, his chest tightening. “But it feels like I missed something so important.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t miss anything. He knows his dad loves him. We both know how much you care. This one moment this tiny moment it doesn’t define everything else you do.”

He sat there for a moment, processing your words, but you could tell it didn’t make him feel any less upset.

“Look, I have something for you,” you said softly, reaching for your phone and pulling up the video you’d taken earlier. “I recorded it, so you could see it. He took his first steps, just like we thought he would.”

Chan’s face softened, though there was still that pained edge to it. He took the phone from your hands, and his gaze immediately softened as the video began to play. His eyes traced the small figure of your son, wobbling but determined, taking his first steps toward you, and then the laughter, the cheers from both of you as you praised him.

"You're walking! You're walking!" you could hear yourself saying, the happiness in your voice almost breaking through the tension.

A silent tear rolled down Chan's cheek as he watched. "I can’t believe I missed it... But I'm so proud of him. So proud of both of you."

You gently cupped his cheek and wiped away the tear. "And he's really proud of you. He will always know how much you love him and how badly you wanted to be here." He leaned toward your touch, letting out a tiny sigh. "I just wanted to see it with my own eyes." To hold onto it." "I know," you said quietly, kissing his forehead. "You will. We'll have more moments like this. Together."

He nodded, his breath steadying as he drew closer and buried his face in your neck. You embraced him tighter, understanding that the weight of missing moments was heavy at times, but that true love would always be there to compensate.

The next morning began peacefully, with soft light flowing through the curtains as the world outside came to life. The air in the room felt lighter now, as if the night had allowed both of you to let go of some of the weight that Chan had carried the night before. He had fallen asleep beside you, holding you close as if to ground himself after the emotional intensity of the previous day. You could sense he was still upset, but his embrace was a little more relaxed and at ease.

As usual, your son was up and about, full of energy and wonder in his eyes. He'd been exploring slowly, creeping about the room and occasionally pausing to glance up at the two of you, as if seeking approval for each move. He was now on the floor, surrounded by his blocks, his little fingers enthusiastically placing them one on top of the other. Today, he moved more deliberately and with confidence, as if he had a purpose in mind.

You looked at Chan, who was still sitting on the floor in his pajamas, attempting to get ready for the day ahead, his mind already worried about rehearsals and work. He had said that he would need to leave very soon, but for the time being, he was focused on being present, sitting cross-legged across from your son.

You observed as your son glanced up at Chan, his gaze fixed on the form of his dad as if he knew exactly where he wanted to go. The small legs tightened and wobbled, and then, without hesitation, he pushed himself up again, balancing on his feet for a brief moment. You held your breath when he took his first step. But this time, it wasn't for you. This time it was toward Chan.

"Chan, look," you said quietly, pointing to your son, but he had already noticed. His eyes widened in awe, and he let out a gentle sigh as he watched their baby take a few shaky steps towards him. Your son was staggering slightly, his arms swinging in quest of balance, but his drive was unmistakable. He took another step, then another, and his face lit up as he got closer to his dad. He then reached Chan.

There was a beat of silence, a frozen moment in time, before your boy collapsed into his dad's lap with a giggle, his small hands gripping the fabric of Chan's pants as if he knew precisely who he had approached.

Chan's heart flooded with emotion as he held up his baby, holding him high and gently twirling him around. His eyes were filled with uncontrollable excitement as he laughed, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of his tremendous pride. "You did it! You walked to Daddy!" Chan muttered with wonder, his voice full of emotion.

The tiredness of the previous day seemed to fade as he held his son close, inhaling the scent of his baby's hair and feeling the warmth of his little body on his chest. It was a moment that moved beyond the tension, guilt, and frustration. This. it was everything.

You sat back on the couch, your heart filled with love for both of them. There was nothing better than seeing your two favorite people in the world experiencing an absolutely perfect moment. The disappointment of missing his first steps was no longer relevant. This was their moment, and it meant everything.

Chan stared at you, a warm smile creeping across his lips. His eyes gleamed with astonishment and relief. "I can't believe he walked to me," he said quietly, as if still absorbing it.

You nodded, a smile forming on your own lips. "He knew who he wanted to go to," you teased lightly, but it was apparent that the burden of the day before had been shifted away from him. His bond with his son was stronger than anything else, and it had always been apparent.

Chan leaned down and kissed his son's forehead before returning your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you. Thanks for being so understanding last night.” You shrugged lightly and gave him an understanding grin. "We both know how much you love him. He has been waiting to walk toward you, haven't you, little one?" You cooed at your son, who gurgled happily while still cuddled in his father's arms.

Chan smiled, brushing his fingers gently over your son’s cheek, his heart filled with gratitude. "I’m glad I’m here. I won’t miss another moment, I swear." You chuckled, your voice light. "I know, Chan. But you don’t need to worry so much. Every moment we share is important. He knows you love him, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Just like you promised."

As Chan looked at you, a peaceful smile stretched across his face. “Yeah, I’m learning that,” he admitted, his voice warm and filled with a quiet contentment. “I guess sometimes I just need a reminder.”

With a final kiss on your son's head, he pulled him closer, clutching the small body against his chest as if to protect and adore him in just a moment. The steps may have been small, but their significance was huge. Chan recognized that, while he might not always be present for every tiny moment, the quality of the ones they shared was what counted most.

You reached for Chan's hand and softly squeezed it as you leaned into him. You could tell that the weight of the day before had finally been removed. For the time being, all that mattered was the present moment: a father and son, their bond becoming stronger with each single step.

(❌proofread)

//

masterlist

[etherealyoungk]

ramen & fate | boo seungkwan

SUMMARY: in which you meet a rich guy at the convenience store during a late night ramen run.

PAIRING: chaebol!seungkwan x reader

THEMES: strangers to lovers, meet cute kinda

WARNINGS: fluff, use of curse words

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

A/N: @wheeboo happy birthday my love! this is a little gift from me to you! this is such a silly idea but i thought i'd write it out for you and i hope you like it <3

you walk into the convenience store and walk inside and the faint sound of pop music hums from the speakers overhead, blending with the quiet hum of the refrigerators in the back. you barely notice any of it though because your mission is clear - ramen. you really needed a ramen fix right now.

you make a beeline for the ramen aisle, the craving gnawing at you and nothing else would do now, not after the day you've had. there's a strange comfort in that little cup of noodles, in its simplicity, in the way it tastes exactly how you expected it to. your eyes scan the shelves and you spot your favourite ramen, only to find one left on the shelf. you immediately reach for it without a second thought, but so does someone else.

your fingers brush against another hand, and you pause, startled. your eyes follow the hand, trailing up a crisp white sleeve, past a perfectly tailored suit jacket, until they land on the face of the man reaching for the same cup of ramen. he’s tall so you have to tilt your head slightly to meet his gaze. his expression is cool, almost unreadable, his jawline sharp and sleek, his styled hair making him look like he just walked off the set of some corporate drama.

"oh," you say, blinking as your hand hovers over the cup.

he looks down at you, his brows lifting slightly as if in mild surprise, but he doesn’t immediately pull his hand back. "looks like we’ve got the same taste," he says, his voice smooth.

you blink at him and wrack your brain for a response before you let out a nervous laugh. "well, it is the best one", you reply as you look at him.

he smirks faintly, tilting his head. "i agree, but there’s only one left."

there’s a pause, the moment stretching out as both of you keep your hands over the cup of ramen and suddenly this feels like some sort of high-stakes negotiation situation.

"i—uh—had a long day," you say, trying to justify your claim, though you immediately feel silly for doing so. "i really need this ramen".

his smirk softens into something resembling amusement. "and you think i don’t?", he counters, raising a brow at you. "i’ve had back-to-back meetings since seven this morning", he says.

"well, i’ve been running around non-stop too", you protest, your grip on the edge of the shelf tightening. his gaze flickers between you and the ramen before he exhales, and lets out a small resigned sigh and to your surprise, he takes his hand away.

"alright," he says, stepping back slightly. "you win, take it", he says as his hand swings down. "really? thanks," you say, though your tone is cautious, like you’re not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of trick.

he gives you a small nod, then glances at his watch, grabbing a different ramen from the shelf and walking to a different aisle without sparing you another glance. you blink, a little confused but get about on your mission to get the ramen. you grab a few more stuff, some kimbap and something to drink and make your way to the cash counter when you spot the man in the suit again.

"i'm sorry sir, but i don't have change for such a big bill", you hear the worker say. "unless you buy items for that amount, i don't really have a way to give you back your change", the worker continues.

you walk front and put your stuff on the counter. "i'll pay for his stuff", you say and he looks at you.

"i've got it, i'm sure i have smaller bills somewhere", he says as he pulls out his wallet and your eyes nearly pop out with the fat wad of cash you see in it, all big bills. what the fuck. you decide to ignore what you just saw and by the time the man in the suit is digging his wallet, you've already paid for your stuff, his included.

you take your things and towards the corner of the store to cook your ramen. once the ramen is done, you take a seat and that's when the man in the suit appears again. he’s got his own ramen cup in hand, the sleeve of his tailored suit pushed up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch. he moves methodically, peeling back the lid of his ramen cup and pouring in the hot water with a steady hand, there's no hesitation and no fumbling. he catches your gaze, and you quickly look away, suddenly very interested in your own noodles. you can feel his eyes on you for a moment, but then he goes back to his ramen, silent and composed. you sneak another glance at him and think to yourself - he is pretty handsome.

you’re halfway through your noodles, the warm broth hitting just the right spot on a cold night before you hear the shuffle of footsteps coming towards you.

"mind if i sit?" he asks, his voice smooth and you nod. he sits down with a kind of effortless grace, setting his ramen down in front of him and adjusting his sleeves like he’s dining at a michelin-star restaurant instead of a dingy convenience store. you focus on your noodles, hoping he won’t notice the way your gaze keeps flickering back to him and you watch as he stirs his ramen and takes a bite.

"you didn’t have to pay for my stuff, you know," he says after a bite, breaking the silence.

"it’s not a big deal," you reply with a shrug. "maybe you should carry smaller bills next time", you tell and you can see the faint smile on his face.

"i swear i thought i had change on me", he says, rather to himself.

"doesn’t seem like you need to worry about it," you remark before you can stop yourself. “i mean, with a wallet like that.”

his smile widens slightly, and he leans back in his chair, resting an elbow casually on the table. "appearances can be deceiving," he says, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent you can’t quite place.

you raise an eyebrow. "right, and expensive suits and fat wads of cash are just a camouflage?", you ask.

"something like that," he replies, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes now like he’s enjoying this back and forth talk, like he's amused by you.

you huff out a soft laugh as you shake your head. "well, next time you’re low on change, i suggest hitting the ATM before wandering into a convenience store", you tell and he nods.

"noted," he says, and there’s a warmth to his voice now.

"i’d like to pay you back", he says after a moment, but you shake your head.

"that's not necessary," you reply, waving a dismissive hand. "it’s just ramen", you say.

and he just looks at you, and it looks like he wants to say something more, but he settles for giving you a small smile instead. "alright, if you’re sure".

after finishing his meal, he gathers his things, straightens his perfectly tailored suit and offers you a polite, "thanks again," before leaving.

you think that’s the last you’ll see of him, until you notice something on the table, his sleek black leather wallet, the kind that practically screams expensive. your eyes widen as your hands reach out for it and you mutter under your breath.

grabbing the wallet, you flip it open and find a few crisp bills (all large denominations, of course), some credit cards and a single business card tucked inside, but there's no name, just a logo and a phone number. you hesitate for a moment before you decide to call the number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

for the next few days, you keep the wallet with you, figuring he’ll eventually call back or text or come looking for it, but nothing. it’s not until a few days later, when you’re rushing through a crowded sidewalk with a bag of groceries in one hand and your phone in the other, that fate decides to intervene. you’re trying to balance too many things at once, not paying attention to where you’re going, when you collide hard into someone coming from the opposite direction. the impact sends your phone clattering to the ground and your grocery bag spilling open. "oh, come on!" you groan, crouching to pick up your things.

"sorry about that", a familiar voice says, and you freeze mid-reach.

you glance up to see him, the ramen guy, in his perfectly tailored suit guy, crouching down to help. he looks as polished as ever, his suit immaculate despite the chaos of the street and he notices you at the same time, and his eyes widen slightly.

"you," he says, clearly surprised.

"you," you reply, just as surprised. "i've been looking for you, you left this", you say after you've gathered all your groceries and stand up. you dig into your bag and bring out his wallet, handing it over to him.

his expression shifts. "i didn’t even realize it was missing until yesterday, but by then, i figured it was gone for good", he says as he looks at you.

"well, lucky for you i found it,” you say as you hold it out for him. he takes it from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and his smile softens. “you have no idea how much this means, thank you", he says

"you’re welcome," you reply and he looks down at the wallet in his hand, then back at you.

“i owe you, again", he says. "let me buy you dinner, it's the least i can do, please", he asks and you blink, caught off guard.

"dinner? that's...", you trail off as you chew on your lip, considering his offer. "but you don't even know me?", you say, unsure.

"i'll take my chances", he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“alright,” you say, nodding. “dinner sounds nice.”

the smile that spreads across his face is slow and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds and it softens his polished, professional look, making him seem boyish almost.

"i didn't get your name", you ask.

"i'm seungkwan", he says, holding out his hand and you reach for it, shaking it, the warmth of his hand engulfing you. "yn", you say, giving him a small smile.

you both exchange numbers and you head home, and it's only then that you wonder if he'll actually follow through. and a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text from him.

ramen guy: this is seungkwan, does friday evening work for dinner? let me know what time works for you.

you reply quickly and his response comes almost immediately.

ramen guy: perfect, i’ll take care of everything, looking forward to it.

when friday arrives, you find yourself standing in front of the address he sent—a restaurant that looks like it was plucked straight from a luxury travel magazine. the building is sleek and modern, its glass walls shimmering in the golden hour light. your nerves spike as you step through the grand entrance and suddenly you're thinking that this must be some kind of joke, that he must have sent you the wrong address by mistake because holy shit, you could barely afford this place. a host greets you with a warm smile when you walk inside. “you must be here for mr. boo seungkwan” they say, their tone polite but knowing. boo seungkwan?

the person guides you towards a private dining room and it's a beautifully set table near the window that overlooks the city skyline. you spot him waiting there and he stands up the moment he spots you, a smile lighting up his face.

he was wearing an all-black suit, and it was perfect for him, tailored to perfection, the fit making him incredibly handsome and attractive and the fit made him look effortlessly sophisticated, yet there was an ease to his posture that made him seem grounded. his dark hair was styled just enough to look intentionally tousled, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. there was something about the way he carried himself, confident but not cocky, poised but not stiff. his smile was the same: genuine and unpretentious, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, yet somehow, in that black suit, he couldn’t help but leave an impression.

“you made it,” he says, his tone warm as he steps forward to pull out your chair for you. "yeah", you say softly, still trying to take in the posh ambience around you.

as the evening unfolds, you’re surprised by how easy he is to talk to. he’s incredibly down-to-earth and he listens intently, laughs at your jokes, and is just so sweet, a complete gentleman. his genuine interest in you, paired with his relaxed nature, made the evening feel warm and comfortable and didn't make you feel intimidated anymore.

“so, what exactly do you do?”, you ask, looking at him.

he hesitates for a moment, then shrugs lightly. “family business,” he says, clearly trying to downplay it. “it’s not that exciting.”

"so what exactly is this family business?", you ask but seungkwan only chuckles softly in response. "it's not as cool as you think. let’s just say it's a lot of paperwork, meetings, and business stuff", he makes an exaggerated motion of his hands like he was emphasizing the mundanity of it all. the date ends on a good note and he even offers to drop you home, but you decline, not wanting to impose on him anymore.

it isn’t until days later, when you’re scrolling through your phone that you stumble across an article and you realize just who he is.

heir to the boo family conglomerate, boo seungkwan spotted at his newest restaurant with someone: who’s the mystery guest?

your jaw drops as your eyes scan the article, which details his family’s massive business empire—including restaurant chains, luxury hotels, and even media companies. the photo accompanying the article shows him stepping out of the very restaurant where you had dinner with him, wearing the same outfit he had that evening, looking effortlessly handsome and polished as always.

and just then your phone buzzes with a new message from him at that exact moment:

ramen guy: i hope you enjoyed the dinner last time. let me know when you’re free again, i owe you another one.

taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852

@weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @wheeboo @icyminghao

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