#glee: week 5 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dekuneho · 14 days ago

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sober ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.”

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

“Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding.

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

#ᥫ᭡ dekuneho #&katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki smut

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konigbabe · 1 year ago

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frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

Nanami relishes the days leading up to vacation almost as much as the vacation itself.

The two of you are going on a little weekend getaway at an all-inclusive resort, nothing extravagant, but as always, still special. You’ve both had a rough few weeks at work, so to say you’re excited is an understatement.

Your husband is definitely the type to prepare for the trip days in advanced. He’s already made it known to everyone in the office that he’ll be offline and not at all available to contact as soon as it’s Friday. He’s got his automatic replies already set and scheduled, his calendar marked, the signature in his email updated with his time off, even a big note in all caps on his cubicle whiteboard saying OUT OF OFFICE FRIDAY. He takes care of his meetings early in the week, finishes his tasks by Wednesday, and on Thursday, he’s already checked out. As soon as it’s 5:00 PM, he’s out of his seat, rushing towards the subway.

At home, the packing starts Monday. Little by little, he folds his laundry, neatly tucking it inside his luggage. Fresh pairs of underwear, plenty in case of emergencies. Outfits for each day, casual for poolside, semi-formal for dinners and dancing. Nanami enjoys packing because it means the trip is getting closer and closer. Plus, he adores seeing the clothes you plan to wear for him this weekend, especially that sexy black dress and the skimpy little swimsuit you want to lounge in by the pool.

When he’s home on Thursday, vacation mode turned all the way on, he’s giddy and silly with glee. “Hello, my love,” he says, sliding his hands around your waist, greeting you with a loud smooch on the cheek as you prepare dinner. He smiles against your skin, snuggling you into a warm embrace.

You giggle, giving him a kiss on the lips. He slips his tongue inside you, swirling it with yours, fingers toying with the elastic of your sweatpants. “Honey,” you whine into his mouth, turning the burner off the stove, chicken stir fry left to sizzle in the hot pan, soon to be abandoned and forgotten.

“Can you give me a little preview for this weekend? Please sweetheart?” he purrs, grinding himself against you, his cock hard between your ass cheeks. His breath is hot on your ear, thumbs hooked on your waistband, shimmying them down little by little until it falls on its own, pooled at your ankles. You slip your feet out of them, only in your panties now from below the waist, succumbing to desire.

He takes you on the couch, making you model the black dress he absolutely loves so so much. He bunches the hem into his fists, hoisting it up to your breasts, watching you ride his cock exactly the way you will in the hotel room this weekend, moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear just how fucking good you are for him. “That’s it. That’s my pretty girl. Always riding this cock like a fucking slut.” His thumb is pressed firmly to your clit, massaging slow circles around it, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body, quickly approaching your orgasm. When you come for him, he smirks all cocky like, knowing it’s all for him.

He lays down on the couch, beckoning you to straddle his face, tongue ready to lick all your juices off. It’s loud as he slurps on your swollen bud, so wet with your slick and his spit smeared over it. His hips buck into the air, cock bobbing against his abdomen with each thrust, a string of precum webbed at the tip. You readjust yourself so that you’re in the proper position to 69, rocking yourself against his open mouth while you lean over him, swallowing his dick into yours. His cockhead bottoms out into the back of your throat, and you gulp him down, caressing his balls in your hand while you stroke him with your lips, coating him in your saliva. He waits until you come once more before he does, guzzling his hot load until no more shoots out.

It doesn’t end here, though. He won’t be able to sleep tonight until he knows exactly what you look like in that slutty swimsuit of yours. So, he fucks you in the bedroom this time, gripping the bikini to the side, watching with a satisfied smirk as he disappears inside you with each pump of his cock. He’ll feel much better with you wearing this knowing he’s the only one who gets to fuck you in it.

~~~

Sunday morning, Nanami wakes up, absolutely dreading check-out after such an amazing stay. He turns to face you, cupping your cheek lovingly, trying to think of any way to prolong this trip. So, he does something a little naughty. He sneaks off to the hotel lobby, books the hotel for just one more night, and sets a reminder for himself to call in sick for tomorrow. He’s not quite ready to turn vacation mode off.

#mdni divider by @/cafekitsune #last one before I leave for vacation myself hehe #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami imagine #nanami drabble

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icarusredwings · 29 days ago

Text

Thinking about Wade's Adhd and rejection sensitivity. Getting upset about inconveniences he can't control even when not mentally small, just becoming irationally overly upset over things that don't really affect much.

How he's been talking about a certain sandwitch all day long. Since noon, throughout the entire mission, and now he's yapping about it again on the 6 block walk to said sandwitch joint ran by a small immigrant family.

He keeps talking about how great it is. Logan didn't have this place in his timeline, so Wade is ampled excited to show him. Logan jokes with him how he sounds more excited to eat this sub then he is to suck dick.

Wade, with the most serious face, goes, "I can get dick anytime. They're only open 4 days a week and only from 1 to 5."

Logan notes this in the back of his mind for the future.

Just as they get there, Wade is telling Logan that they used to be open 10-5 but their daughter went to college, so now they are on their own. How these people have been so kind to him and told him that they started this shop for their daughter specifically. To give her a good life, they've been working hard to send her to college since day one.

As they roll up to the door, Wade's face drops. All of the glee and joy from his body evaporates and immediately he's just staring at the sign.

"Sorry, we're closed. Come back -" and then a small plastic clock that shown when they opened again tomorrow at 1 pm.

They're too late.

"Oh... well, that sucks." Logan mutters, hands in his pockets as he watches Wade look so utterly disappointed that even he begins to feel bad for him.

He puts a hand on his shoulder. "We can always come again tomorrow."

"B-but I...i wanted.." He starts to tear up, quickly moving to wipe his eyes, sniffling and shaking his head. "It's fine... okay.. tomarrow." He whispers, not only feeling pathetic for being so upset over a sandwitch store being closed, but now they had to walk all the way back home.

"...are you okay?"

"Yeah.. it's fine.." But it's clearly not fine. He fully understands that they were late, and thats why they were closed. He's not angry at them. He's not angry at logan either. Not even himself, really. He must have miscalculated the time. A pure mistake.

But on the way home, it's very obvious that this is a big deal. He's quiet. Staring at the ground as he walks, biting his nails, wiping a tear once inawhile.

It makes Logan frown, uncomfortable with the silence, knowing his mind was no where near silent at the moment. He knew it was turmoil in there, a loud and pouting mess.

"....do you want to get something else?"

"...no..." He whispers.

Logan observes his body language, watching how his eyes kept flickering and filling with a tear every now and again. How distant he becomes and almost... hugs himself... at one point. He knows that this is a much different response from when small him throws a tantrum or sulks. He looks as if he genuienly didn't want to be upset but just... is. As if he couldn't stop his overwhelming emotions from flooding his mind.

He takes his hand. "...is it because you wanted to show me?"

"No.. I mean.. kinda? But I just... I really wanted it."

"We can get it tomarrow?"

"I know. I can't... its hard to explain."

Logan gives his hand a squeeze, talking quietly.

"... is it a safe food?"

Wade nods, wiping another tear on his sleeve. It was one of the few things he could eat without puking. But that still wasn't why he was upset.

"Do you want me to make you a sub?"

He shakes his head. "It won't be the same."

"Im sure I can make it the sa-"

"No.. I mean... yes?? Im sorry, Peanut. It's... It's an experience thing.. I've had it in my head all day to go and get a sub from them. And now I can't check it off until tomorrow."

Oooh.. that makes sense. He had a checklist in his head. Something he needed to finish before he could go to bed. And now that this wasn't finished? He would have a hard time moving forward.

When they arrive home, Wade goes to hide in the corner of their bedroom, quiet and trying to think of something else he could do to distract his mean brain from yelling at him.

'What are you doing? You were supposed to go to the shop! Stop being lazy and just go! Come on! We've been waiting all day for this! ... Logan said he would eat a sub with us...But we were so good today...' They said.

"I know.." he muttered, putting on his headphones, hoping to drown them out.

It doesn't work. Now hes just laying in bed, rotting and staring at the ceiling while tears travel down the sides of his face. He's breathing a bit shakily.

'Why are we crying? Its just a sandwitch. It has nothing to do with the sandwich dipshit!! Are we bad..? Did we misbehave? Is that why Logan dosn't want to eat with us? Hey! Hello?? Were kind of starving here. Haven't even had anything today since breakfast. Im not hungry anymore. You're really pathetic you know that? Almost 50 years old crying over a fucking sandwitch.'

They were so loud that even with the volume up so high, he didn't hear Logan come in.

"Wade?" He waves a hand in front of him, watching as he jumps, looking up with such puffy red eyes.

"W-what?"

He puts down a plate. It's a sub.

Looking at it, he glances between him and the food multiple times, watching as Logan takes it, taking a bite and sitting next to him.

He doesn't say a word.

Now, Wade is crying for a different reason, his eyes softening as he smiles, gently leaning into him. "... Can I have a bite?"

"Of my dick or my sub?" He asks, glancing to him with a teasing look painted on his raised brow.

Wade giggles, nuzzling into his shoulder as he takes a big breath, sighing. Glancing at the door, he mutters. "Do you see this shit? And you all call me the nasty one."

Logan only smirks, a bit too proudly. "Says the guy who once-"

"Woah woah woah peanut! That's enough. This episode is rated pg. Sorry about that. God, such a potty mouth." He snickers, sitting up as Logan lets him take a bite from the end of the sub, Lady and the Tramp style.

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sunnie-angel · 2 months ago

Note

god take all of sunnie’s followers triple it and give it back to her 🩵

let’s do a face mask: reader convinces jason to accept one of the many invitations alfred keeps making and finally jason agrees. (accidentally or not) the other bat members drop in while jason is introducing the reader to alfred

oh i'm blushing, you're words are making me giddy 🙈 please accept this humble face mask as a gift!

meeting the family head canons:

Alfred sends a basket of something home with Jason for you, every time the two of them meet for tea. Every time you squeal and ask when he'll finally let the two of you eat, if only so poor Alfred can finally be thanked in person.

Jason finally, finally breaks down and agrees when Alfred starts sending sugar cookies with iced greetings for you in your favourite colour.

He agrees, but only if the two of you show up at the back entrance when most of them are supposed to be off-world for a mission. Alfred sets up a lovely traditional British tea service in the garden and Jason has a whole 5 minutes of hope that no one else will gatecrash

Steph 'stumbles' across the three of you first, grin suspiciously wide as she helps herself to a finger sandwich

Dick 'pops by' looking for Alfred (the cat), which he claims Damian has lost track of. He folds his legs up like a pretzel and takes a seat on the grass, refusing to budge. He tries to engage you in conversation and Jason stubbornly keeps trying to shut him down.

In the distraction of Dick's arrival, Cass materializes. She steals the eclair right out of his hand and un-apologetically pops the rest of it into her mouth while maintaining eye contact with you.

Tim trundles through not long after, tablet in hand. His display of surprise at being interrupted is the most but the maniacal glee at being able to tease Jason about finally bringing someone home gives him away.

Damian shows up last, Alfred the cat dangling from his arms. It takes him the longest to stop pretending he couldn't be less interested in you, but the moment you start paying attention to Alfred (the cat) he crumbles.

Bruce only shows up just as the two of you are leaving and suggest you use the front drive next time.

You meet Duke two weeks later. He's slightly offended no one told him or he would have showed up too.

sunnie's sleepover weekend

#jason todd x reader #sunnie's sleepover weekend

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polarisjisung · 3 months ago

Text

BEST THING I NEVER HAD

synopsis: the line between giving up and seeing how much more you can take had always been blurry, tonight it seems nonexistent

wc: 3.1k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, hearbreak

warnings: mentions of violence, jaemin's injured, use of petnames, jaemin's oblivious and annoying, jaemin sucks, basically a situationship, slight gaslighting

notes: HAPPY JAEMIN DAY, i have a love hate relationship with this work (I suppose you could say its bittersweet 🤭) anyways here's part one! pls notice the beyoncé inspired title

Despite its softness, you can't help but jump at the sound of knocking against your front door.

just loud enough that you'd hear, but quiet enough that your parents wouldn't. It was a specific pattern of 5 knocks, delivered through the knuckles of an index and middle finger, in true jaemin fashion.

You wonder if its healthy, to be able to recognise the hooded silhouette that stands outside your door, to know someone from nothing but the tapping of their knuckles against a slab of wood, to know exactly the state you'll find him in if you swing the door open like you usually would.

It isn't, you suppose. but healthy had never been the word to describe you and jaemin. not the ungodly dessert bowls you made as midnight snacks together, not the lounging around all day doing nothing and certainly not the cycle of longing you found yourself in.

Time and time again you found yourself tearing yourself apart for him, for his love, and each time it would end with you slowly putting those broken pieces, shreds, of yourself back together, alone and all by yourself.

Though you're not sure you did ever recover fully, like a piece of your heart was lost every time jaemin turned his back to leave and never come back.

Like the tiny fragments of a broken glass, the ones you could never quite see as you sweeped up a mess of shattered glass and would find yourself stepping all over days later.

But he did come back. You suppose that was the problem, he came back every time.

Jaemin had this perfect ability of keeping you on edge, never pushing you far enough to leave, never pushing himself far enough to stay. It was the way he did most things, showing up at your door at a time you weren't sure was morning or night, coming back just before you'd manage to convince yourself he wouldn't, leaving just before your hope that he'd stay would come true. jaemin took this middle path in life that lead to the worst of both worlds, best of none. and it left you unsatisfied every time

Regardless, you'd been craving, almost desperate for his presence, anticipation bubbling in your chest every night since the last you'd seen him, in hopes you'd find a wounded jaemin helplessly stood at your doorstep with sparkly eyes and a smile that told you it would all be alright. it seemed that was the only way you saw him anyways, the way you hated most, injured that is.

So you'd prayed day and night, clasped your hands together and had gotten down on your knees and begged that he'd stay true to his word, that he wouldn't leave and that this wouldn't happen— yet here you were.

You haven't seen jaemin in weeks, but you still remember it all the same, the spark of glee that would ignite within you whenever you heard him at your door.

Tonight his presence makes your chest tighten and your mouth dry up— you feel the way your breaths force themselves through the confines of your throat, almost choking you.

The feeling is foreign and a sharp contrast to the way your cheeks would flush over and your heart would once race at the thought of jaemin.

Tonight you stray far from that love struck awe, eyes clenched so hard you were beginning to see colour. there's a growing lump in your throat that doesn't seem as negligible as before, with each shortened intake of breath it doubles maybe even triples in size— your vision, in spite of your shut eyes, blurrs into an abyss of absolute nothingness

And despite the thick wooden door that separates you, tonight na jaemin's presence feels suffocating.

You're not sure you'd describe it as love, certainly it wasn't that warm feeling of butterflies in your stomach and giddiness you knew before, like you were star struck, instead it was this feverish conjugation that made your hands clammy and your ears ring. Like the butterflies now had broken wings. You felt ill.

It had always been that way, only your heart would wrench after jaemin left and never while he stood expectant on your front porch. You suppose when he leaves for so long and stays for so little, your heart doesn't bother to acknowledge his visits anymore, like some form of a self-defense mechanism that protects you against yourself. because you never really could protect yourself against him

Suddenly, the difference being lovestruck and lovesick had never been clearer.

It had been three months.

A whole three months since you'd last seen him and tonight, tonight was the night he came back— unannounced, unexpected, and finally, finally, after days and weeks of convincing yourself, unwanted.

You know better than to let him in, not just into your home, but into your heart. And if you had learnt anything in your lifetime of knowing na jaemin, it was that those two were absolutely synonymous

Your heart that had only just now begun to learn that it could survive without him, thrive without him in fact.

You know that this is it, tonight would make it or break it— either way you know it would break you.

In the long run, it's not hard to figure out what you should do but you're a creature of habit, compelled by nothing more than muscle memory and indecision.

Your shaking hands reach for the door and begin turning the lock faster than you can convince yourself against the idea.

sure enough there he is, not an inch of skin that isn't painted in the cold shades of purple and blue yet hes staring up at you with so much warmth.

"How do you always get yourself like this, how do you get worse everytime" your words came as whisper.

You're not sure if your words hold the alternate meaning you hope they do, but as you take in the image of jaemin in front of you, you swear he's almost unrecognisable, so far beyond bruised that you wonder if you should be so cruel as to slam the door in his face.

He shrugs in response to your question, the cold breeze that brushes past the two of you biting at your skin, the thin material of your pyjama shorts doing little to nothing to keep your warm.

You're not supposed to let him in, but surely, you could always find a way to push him out, right?

There's some sort of a cheeky grin on his lips as you step aside to let him in, perhaps if he knew this was the last time he'd be stepping through the double doors of your home he would've worn an expression a lot different— you hoped he would at least.

But you know better than to occupy yourself in thoughts of what ifs.

Jaemin makes a beeline for the couch, as you do for the first aid kit that rests atop the kitchen cupboards, wordlessly.

Though the silence is nothing new, jaemin doesn't feel the welcoming atmosphere around him as he steps further into your home, in fact he feels nothing at all.

He looks over at you.

It's not tiredness that sits atop your features, the details of your pretty face all committed to his memory, yet the slight furrow of your brows and the way your lips pinch into a tight line aren't familiar to jaemin at all. There's something he can't quite put his finger on that sends him into a frenzy of panic and worry

"Hey doll?" you hum in response "are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" you chuckle wryly, "shouldn't I be asking you that jaemin?"

"Touche" you assume he lets it go, but jaemin doesnt know how, pushing a little further

"You just seem a little, off?"

After all, limits weren't something jaemin recognised well

You hate that he can't recognise the plain, simple and painfully obvious look of disappointment that's written all over your face either

Regardless you don't worry enough about his words to credit him with a response, rubbing the antiseptic roughly into his skin before reaching for the tube and letting it fall into the empty trash can, the thud as it hit the bottom filling you with ease.

You hate waste just as much as the next person, but wasting a little medicine was fine, just as long as you didn't waste anymore time on him.

Jaemin's brows knit together in a tight knot, watching you make your way back towards him with full consciousness, though there's something about the way you walk, trudge even, maybe its the way your feet drag across the carpet or the way your steps seem smaller, less eager, that has his heart sinking a little

"Doll, I'm not sure you meant to put that there" he says, attempting to brush a stray hair from your face, though you turn your head before he gets the chance

"Hmm?" your eyes trail over to the bin "oh, I just thought if I'm never going to use it again, there's no point keeping it around" you shrug

But you always kept it around, you kept it for him— remember he was allergic to the regular stuff.

What did you mean you'd never use it again?

Jaemin licks his lips, letting a soft sigh escape them as he watches you hurriedly place band aids over his cuts

"What's got you like this?" he says, you play innocent, shooting a look of confusion his way— jaemin doesn't expand, you don't answer

The room is cold, or at least it feels that way, despite the fire that's burning just a few feet away from him. The chill of silence is overwhelming, and the warmth you'd once emit in your words, in your actions, in your gaze, they're all missing.

"Did I do something wrong?" he whispers, innocent beady eyes forced into your face as he holds you close, not letting you slip through his hands— ironically you're already too far out of reach

All it takes is for you to bite at the left corner of your bottom lip for jaemin to know you're deep in thought

You wonder if he's just playing oblivious or if jaemin really and truly thinks that his little back and forth games don't have any consequences.

Either way, you shake your head at him— it wasn't all his fault.

Really you had no one to blame except yourself, you should've known better than to be so vulnerable to the likes of him.

You know better than to tell him what's wroong. You know that you can't risk receiving an apology from him, because if he made even the slightest inclination to sorriness, you'd accept it.

That's how you loved him. How much you loved him.

At one point you swore you'd let him drag you down to hell if it meant you could hold his hand on the way down— you're not sure the life you're living is much different though

You're not entirely sure you wouldn't let him drag you down now either, but the lack of certainty is the only push you need to know that this time, it's your turn to be selfish.

"All done," you whisper, his wounds quickly tended to with little precision and perhaps even less care, absentmindedly wrapped in a loose gauze.

This time, jaemin catches onto the ulterior meaning of your words, watching the way you head towards the staircase.

"Doll, talk to me what's wrong?" it's that tone laced with all forms of concern and worry that has the tears welling in your eyes

If jaemin hadn't reached out for your wrist and stopped you, you'd have made your way back up to your room without another word

But he does, he does stop you and it stops you from walking away

"I don't think I can" you say and all jaemin can do is tug at your wrist to finally get you to face him, a dull expression on your face. Every feature he knows and loves and remembers contorted into a look of nothingness.

"Y/n, please"

"Just go jaemin, you know the way out" you sigh, your speech is tired and lacks energy, a deep reflection of your soul and how you felt about the routine the two of you had established. If only Jaemin could see that.

"I can't just go when you're so clearly upset" he says— oh, but he can

You knew that better than anyone else.

"You let yourself believe that"

The words come as a whisper, like you almost hope he doesn't hear them, fast off the tongue but meant with true intent

And to jaemin they tasted bitter, superficial, like you didn't speak with your heart, but your mind, the sweetness he knew of your speech so severely lacking.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're so oblivious to how—" for a moment you're ready to tell jaemin all there is to know about the two of you, but you know its no use, jaemin would feed you the sweetest lies and you'd mistake them as the truest of promises.

"Actually you know what never mind what I mean, just go jaemin" you sigh, raking your fingers through your hair

You take his silence as reason to continue, maybe because talking is the only thing you know will keep the tears in your eyes from falling or maybe it's the look in his eyes that urges you to continue

"We're stuck in this never-ending loop, can't you see that?" the control you had over the volume of your voice diminishes with each word, but you're not sure you care, "just stop jaemin"

"Stop what?"

"Coming back" you suck in a harsh breath "just leave like you always do but this time, don't come back, please please please don't come back" you hate the way your voice cracks and your speech almost falters, burning your throat.

"I'll do whatever you say doll, just tell me what this is about and I prom—"

You cut him off before he can let the word fall from his lips, eyes widened before being clenched shut in the span of a few seconds

"Don't promise jaemin, you never stick to them" you sigh again "just go"

"You know I can't"

"you do it every time, what makes this time so different?" your tone is sour and jaemin knows better than to dispute your words, harsh but so painfully true

"You're upset" he tries, but it doesn't seem enough when you scoff right in his face and the feeling that follows only makes you hope you'd done this all so much earlier.

"Yeah? well that's nothing new, just walk out the door and break my heart like you always do— I'm begging" you shut your eyes, a harsh deep breath taken in before you continue "I need time to heal, you never give me time to heal, so I'm begging you this time, just don't come back"

"Break your heart?" the words echo from his tongue in fragments, like he's still piecing together your sentences to make sense of them. Jaemins eyes are soft and glossy as he looks up at you a couple steps away

"yeah"

"But I love you doll, I only come back because I love you" that's something you wish jaemin could've said sooner, maybe it would've meant something then.

It's a lie, you know it is, you're sure it is and despite all the lies he tells you, you'd never wished more than this for his words to be true.

"Then stop" you say, trying to shoot off up the stairs but jaemin's fingers remain wrapped aorund your wrist, grip firm and unwavering

"So what? you're just going to throw it all away? all this time we've known each other, all the memories, you're just going to pretend it doesn't exist?" he finally argued back, mouth slightly ajar as his breaths grew deeper "like we don't exist?"

"We don't jaemin, reality is that you're not mine and I'm not yours as much as I let myself be— you and I we just don't work" you wonder if he's even listening when he turns his head, scoffing to the floor with a tongue running across his inner cheek "we're not good for each oth--"

"How can you know that when we've never even tried" his voice is loud, the loudest you've ever heard, a deep booming from the pit of his stomach that has you reeling back, gulping as he cuts you off

"I don't know about you jaemin but I tried jaemin, I did but now I'm tired"

"How can you be tired of us?" his voice shakes, he seems feeble despite what he was just a few moments ago— you realise it's one of jaemin's best tactics, making you pity him when it's the last thing you should be doing.

Somehow despite how aware you are of it now, your heart still wrenches at the thought of upsetting him.

"it's not us" you defend, knowing full well that that's exactly what it was " I just, I don't deserve this jaemin, I don't deserve someone who keeps coming back" the glossiness of his eyes grows further " I deserve someone who never leaves"

"Then why are you telling me to go?" his eyes are telling, red and his heart, even if just for a moment rests on his sleeve.

"Because I know you, you're not capable of staying. You can't" his grip loosens, he takes a step back and though he argues again, you know this is it.

"I can. I will. I'd do anything for you" he says, and you swear your gulp is audible, you almost hear it echo through the room. Your stomach churns. You feel the way your insides tip upside down and back over again at the site of jaemin's furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, those pouty lips that you once loved bruised and trembling. His gaze though fixated on you is aloof, like he's not present at all. Suddenly it all feels too real. The way he pulls back, the spark in his eyes dimming and the confidence in his stance diminishing. Jaemin was giving up. But he wasn't giving up without a fight.

"You would?" you don't know why you ask, but jaemin nods anyway, and perhaps it soothes your broken heart ever so slightly to live in the blissful ignorance of thinking that his words were true. That he meant what he said.

To think that he ever loved you, even if for just a fraction of a moment, gives you reason to believe that this had all been worth it.

But you know better than to let a moments love turn into a lifetime's regret.

"Yeah" jaemin's words escape him in a sharp breath.

He finds himself holding onto the last thread of hope in your eyes that tells him that you feel the same. He holds your stare in his own for a while and though it was not warm, and it certainly was not kind— it was loving. And love was all jaemin had ever known from you.

"Then go" You say, and despite the various other words resting at the tip of your tongue, it's all you say.

Jaemin is left to do nothing but watch. You had taught him love, and now you had let him go.

The front door slams shut before you reach the top of the stairs, and it finally hits you that this is it.

Jaemin was gone, and just like you asked, he never came back.

permanent taglist : @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @nanawrlds

#jaemin angst #nct jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x oc #jaemin x y/n #jaemin x you #jaemin x reader #nct #nct dream jaemin #nct x female reader #nct x y/n #nct x oc #nct x you #nct x reader #nct angst #kpop angst #jaemin nct

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justpoliteconversations · 9 months ago

Text

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 2)

For any partnership to work, communication is key.

More self-indulgent trash for the soul.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Nothing worth mentioning.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

It seemed infinitesimal: a single apple missing from the vast pool of resources you'd amassed over the years. Barely a drop in the metaphoric ocean and you'd treated it as such. At first.

A simple miscount, you'd reasoned. Not even you, with your convenient auto-sorting ability nor years of modern schooling, was immune to the inevitably of human error.

Days passed. Nothing much changed. Except that it did.

One mistake was expected. Two was acceptable. But Three? Four? You had your suspicions, but you'd pushed them aside and carried on as usual. Ignoring the cold pit opening in your stomach with each misplaced object. Every inconceivable miscount that only seemed to pile into a whirlwind of inevitability.

It escalated, because of course it would.

When one of your swords disappeared, you ignored the thundering of your heart. When your leftover meat skewers were suddenly two less? You balled your hands in your lap to prevent them from shaking.

Then, a week after the towers rose, your warm doublet vanished right off your back, leaving you suddenly in the plain clothes beneath. You stopped paying attention to the world for a while after, taking deep breaths to ease the tension in your body.

Once able to draw breath more freely, you put on your significantly less warm overshirt and pressed onward. Stopped at the nearest stable (Dueling Peaks, hours off of your intended route), ignored your guard's concerned (annoyed in Adino's case) stares and rented three beds for the night.

It took a long time for sleep to take you, but eventually you succeeded.

When you opened your eyes it was early morning, but still later than you'd usually be up by. The stable master was just starting his day, eating a quick breakfast of eggs and porridge. You should have been gone long before anyone else in the tent had even left their beds.

Your guard, Skims, glanced over at you from his own bed, concern evident on his weathered, weary face. He must have noticed the change in your breathing as you woke. You could see the question in his eyes, the way his brows rose just slightly and his mouth quirked.

You gave him a small shake of the head, a tired smile, and he nodded in understanding before rolling out of bed with a dramatic groan. It pulled a snort from you and you just caught the edge of a satisfied smile at the corner of his lips.

Man needed another raise. Fourth one this year but his loyalty and care was well worth the expense.

With that thought you pulled yourself from bed, fighting against the spring morning chill as you removed the covers from your sleep warmed body. Putting your feet to the ground was misery, and pulling away from the plush bedding a test of your resolve.

Beside you Skims was smirking in his tired way, knowing full well just how deeply the hyrulian cold effected you. His own metabolism kept him damn near toasty in all but the harshest climates, and he took quiet glee in watching you huff and silently whine against the nip of crisp morning air.

You cast a tired eyed glare up at him and he chuckled, knowing what you were thinking. He was right, for the record. You were thinking about how sweet revenge would be the next time you made for Gerudo.

Scratch that. Skims would be all too pleased to be back in that forsaken desert. Would even request a few days off to visit his three (that's right, three) gerudo baby mama's and four daughters.

You didn't think about it too much. It wasn't your business, and as far as you knew, all participants were happy with the arrangement. It wasn't your concern.

You sighed, taking the loss for what it was. Skims, at least, had the grace to not voice it aloud. Though you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him well enough that it hardly mattered.

"I'll let Adino know we'll be heading for Hateno soon." He offered in the way of a peace offering, and at your nod he slipped out of the stable entryway without another word.

You stared after him, taking in the red-tinted dawn light bathing the world beyond. Stealing yourself against the persistent drafts leaking through the open tent flaps you began to ready yourself for the day.

You wondered if Link was okay. You were glad he had something warm to protect him through the night, even if it was at your expense.

As quickly as they'd come, you pulled away from those thoughts before they could fully take hold. Therein lies the path to lunacy, and bankruptcy.

The man now had access to your entire inventory, and if current happenings had told you anything it was that he had absolutely no qualms in using it. Be that because of his amnesia, his situation, his personality or even a mix of the three, you didn't know. And honestly, it didn't matter. The ending was the same.

Loss of merchandise. Loss of revenue. Perhaps even the loss of your business. All things you'd very much like to avoid.

Once dressed you took a moment to recenter yourself.

The next few days were going to be long and arduous.

---

You'd made it to Hateno without further delay, though you had to travel for two days nonstop to make up for lost time (stopping only to refresh the horses, much to Adino's irritation). By the end of it Skims was looking more weary than usual and Adino (a skinny hyrulian teenager with dark hair and a sour expression) more surly.

You slipped them both a few extra rupees before giving them the week off until further notice and Adino seemed to forgive you a little. Skims had just smiled gratefully, and when Adino had slipped away into the nearest alley, you'd handed Skims another hundred.

The older hyrulian's raised brows was merely answered by a small smile and a shooing motion, to which he huffed a dry laugh and obeyed the dismissal. You returned his backwards wave with one of your own even though he didn't see it. Or maybe he did.

Hard to tell with that man.

After that, you wasted no time in getting back to business. You visited all the stores on the main strip, catching up on the latest news from Pruce and giving him first pick of your more uncommon stock. He was your most valued business partner after all, and the one who gave you your moniker.

You owed him so much for helping you find your feet in those overwhelming early days. He'd put so much time and effort into your integration, bought so many god-damned unnecessary apples because you'd had nothing else to offer.

First pick of the batch was the least you could do in return for his continued kindness.

"There's a new house for sale." Pruce said conversationally, leaning against the counter as he begun picking through his new merchandise.

"Oh?" You'd inquired back politely, not really interested but willing to hear out any bits of information that may one day prove useful to you.

"Yeah. The abandoned one across the old bridge. The council has decided to sell it. If it doesn't go within the month, it's getting demolished."

Something nagged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't pin it down before it slipped away. Instead of dwelling on it, you thanked him for the information and took your leave.

The rest of that afternoon was rather uneventful. You walked the village back roads with quiet nostalgia, gazing up at the newly blossoming apple trees and freshly grown grass with heartfelt fondness. Eventually you passed the budding fields nestled in the far back of the village. Beyond that, the solitary apple tree you'd first been enamored with when you'd first arrived in this world.

And there it stood, seemingly unchanged after five years. Always the early bloomer. And bearer.

You touched the weathered bark gently, letting the rough surface ground you once more in reality. "Hello. You're as magnificant as ever, my friend. May this year be fruitful for you." It was silent as expected, but you leaned your head to the trunk and sent your thanks to it regardless.

Your first lifeline, a silent reminder of everything this world had given you. Even if no one understood, this tree deserved your utmost respect.

You took your time walking back to the village proper, breathing in the fresh, cool air with renewed appreciation. You were reminded once more that this land, these people, this new life had been kind to you.

With the uncertainty of Link's awakening lingering in your mind, you needed that reminder now more than ever.

Feeling lighter than you had in weeks, out of curiosity you took the long way around to inspect the new property for sale. Not that you had any intention of buying, but it wouldn't hurt to look.

It did, in fact, hurt. Like the scene from an overly dramatic psychological thriller, the moment you laid eyes on the house you remembered.

50,000 Rupees. Bolson. Link. The deal.

During your other life, when this had all been just a game, you'd dismissed the initial offer the first time you'd talked to Bolson. He'd then presented a discounted offer of 3000 and some odd amount of wood immediately after.

You'd never taken the first offer. It hadn't been practical for you at the time. You hadn't had the means to make that much rupees in such a short amount of time.

But Link had no limitations this go around.

He had your checkbook at his fingertips and no issue utilizing it.

50,000 rupees.

50 Thousand rupees.

Fifty Thousand rupees.

Fuck...

---

A moblin lumbered about the dense forest in slow, stumbling steps, sniffing at the air in search of its hidden adversary. It snorted, picking up an acorn and huffing at it inquisitively, tossing it away when it gave it no leads.

Hidden in the topmost branches of an elder tree, Link scrolled through his Sheikah slate, unbothered. Not much of anything felt threatening to him in these parts, not with the stash of weaponry and armor sets he'd found in his slate's inventory.

Especially not with the fairies stored away in there. 249 to be exact. Formerly 252.

Not for the first time he wondered who the slate belonged to before him. It most certainly had an owner at some point, if the sheer amount of useful items within it was anything to go by.

Had they died? He hoped not. That didn't seem right to him, though he couldn't pinpoint why he thought this.

Honestly, he didn't know much of anything. He just knew he was happy to have all these useful things waiting for him when he...woke up.

He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd started out with nothing. Not even memories of what to do to sustain and better himself.

He pulled a honey candy from the slate and popped it in his mouth as he continued to scroll, ignoring the moblin stomping around the base of the tree. It'd never find him anyway, simple-minded as it was. He hummed in happiness as the sweet treat began to melt on his tongue, ears twitching with delight.

After a time, he eventually made it near the end of the list (pulling some fire chuchu jelly from it) and was about to take care of his unwelcome guest. Until he noticed something off.

Some of the items near the end of the list looked fewer then before. Not just fewer, in fact. Some were gone entirely.

Link tilted his head, bright blue eyes widening with interest, candy held forgotten between his teeth. His breath hitched a bit, something warm and fierce growing rapidly in his chest as he noted more and more discrepancies he'd failed to notice before.

He spit the candy out and it hit the moblin on the head, causing it to growl lowly and whip it's head around in search of its assailant. Link wasn't paying attention to that though. That wasn't important.

At the very end of the inventory list he found a note. A simple slip of paper with his name emblazoned on it with black ink.

His heart begun race at the sight of it.

This was it. Proof that this slate had belonged to someone before. No. That there was someone, right now, who had access to the same technology, was bound to the same destiny.

They knew his name. They knew he was there in the world, and they were reaching out to him.

He wasn't alone. They're alive. They're real.

He was not alone anymore.

He wasted no time in taking the note from the inventory, face lighting up with awe as he took in the contents of the paper.

A dozen fire jellies, a torch and a piece of flint made quick work of the moblin, ripping it apart in a flash of light so suddenly it hadn't even the chance to properly squeal in terror.

Link paid its abruptly silenced death throes no mind. Instead, he jumped from the tree with one powerful leap, snapping his glider open to soar over the valley laid out far below.

He had no time for distractions now. He had to get to Kakariko as soon as possible, find this Impa woman and get directions to Hateno.

The voice in his head would have to wait a little longer. This Calamity guy too. Right now he had more pressing matters.

He needed get to Hateno. Where his new home was. Where their home was.

---

Link,

There is a house waiting for you in Hateno. Present this Proof of Purchase to the Village Council upon arrival.

Be sure to inform me before making any purchases exceeding 10,000 rupees. Use this note system to relay details.

If applicable, forward a list of necessary items and I will precure them for you.

Let's work well together. I look forward to doing business with you.

Your's truly,

---

Must return to the shadows to recharge and recoup. (I lied. I stayed up editing this instead of sleeping. Don't post tired, you make lots of errors.)

#link x reader #link x you #isekai reader #botw link

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 2 years ago

Text

will you marry me?

5 times remus has asked you to marry him and 1 extra.

tags: remus lupin x f!reader,, fluff,, angst,, no mention of the word y/n,, childhood friends to lovers,, mutual pining,, character death

first time at 5 years old;

your eldest sister was off to marry in spring and so naturally the whole house was buzzing with excitement and terror. and you, like any impressionable child, felt the tingles of something exciting happening before your very eyes.

lulu, your best ultimate mate as you so graciously dubbed him, felt this energy too.

or at least the many flowers and coloured envelopes scattered on the table, seem to ring some alarms for him.

“this table is too small,” he frowns, stopping his pretend chopping of the leaves, and looking longingly at the dinner table, filled with scattered wedding paraphernalia.

you shrugged, ponytail swishing as you move around him.

“we have to make room, my sister is to be mary.” you confidently repeated what your mum said to you in the morning. when you had whined at the lack of play space.

now you’re humming like it’s obvious, why you were given a child’s table and now have to play kitchen with one pot instead of four because of the lack of space. the confident pretence of a child to show they’re mature enough not to complain.

“why does she have to be mary?” he asks, his shoulder bumping into you, “i thought she likes her name hilda?”

you scoff, clearly lulu does not know of the way of being mary. so naturally, you being older (by a few months) needs to teach him. or else, however is he going to be a proper grown up?

“because she wants to be a wife. so she has to be mary first.”

“a wife?” he asks intrigued, “like mummy and daddy?”

you laugh, patting his head, “only mummies can be a wife, silly. daddies are hus-butts.” you stood straighter, having this conversation with your mum before. “mother says, you have to love first and then be a mary. so you can play with them even after dinner and eat chocolates and make children.”

he seems to perk up even more, looking at you. his eyes as usual, gleaming with obvious awe, “to make children? with what?”

you pout, having no answer.

you haven’t asked your mum this question yet. too busy thinking of how many mary’s there are in your town.

still, you try to think of an answer.

you don’t want to let lulu down, you are after all his only hope for knowing things.

luckily, you’ve overheard this one conversation last week, your sister moving after she becomes mary so they can begin making a family.

you raise your head, hand on your hip and your other pointed as if in a lecture.

you said in your most confident voice. “you enter specific rooms in the house, and always make sure it’s locked. and then you wait until you can come out with children. but you must only do this if you love them. that is the ultimate rule. or else it won’t work.”

“wow,” he breathed, he clenched his fists then, looking utmost determined. before screaming in glee and confidence, the only way a naive child could. “then let’s make children! be mary and then we can play all night!”

you clicked your tongue, disappointed he hadn’t comprehended. “but you should love me first.”

his cheeks heated pink, indignant, “but i do. i love you a whole lot! and i wanna play here all the time.”

you shook your head, grim. “we can’t.” sounding so heartbroken, as much as any five year old could sound.

because you’ve already asked your mum if you could make children with lulu and she said, you’re only suppose to do that if you’re a grown up in love.

you asked, what’s the difference? you were plenty grown. 5 is one hand after all.

and your sister said to you, amusement lacing her words, a grown up to take care of you and cherish you. someone able to help you and grow with you.

you look at lulu. his thin arms and his lack of knowledge.

certainly not a grown up. not a proper man who can be with you, at all.

“i don’t love you, so we can’t.” you say this huffing, now turning completely to your make shift pot and stirring the water and leaves.

lulu cried loud that day, wailing like a little kid.

and nodding to yourself knowing you’ve made the right choice. he is so not a grown up. even if his pinched face made you feel queasy.

your mum rushing over and asking what was wrong. when you told her, she laughed out loud, and hugged you both, brushing remus’ hair out of his tear streaked face.

and you wonder what was so funny when he looked so sad.

second time at 11 years old;

remy was horrified.

you realize this as he stares at you in a crazed panic. and as always, it was up to you to be strong.

“what do you mean by that?” puffing your chest out and stood to cover remy from potter.

“didn’t you know? kissing makes girls pregnant.” he whispered, loudly in the empty halls, scandalized as he went to look at your stomach as if it will inflate this instant.

you fight the urge to cover that area with your robes. willing yourself to be brave for the both of you.

“surely… that isn’t true.”

potter scoffs, offended to have been doubted, “yes it is, i heard a prefect say so.”

you feel remy grab the back of your robes in panic. the reference enough to persuade him. you almost roll your eyes, but instead sighed to calm yourself down.

“i ought to tell you lot to be careful.” potter looked at the both of you meaningfully, and inhaling sharply as a flash of embarrassment burns into your brain.

you weren’t able to will the heat of your cheeks to dissipate, before it showed on your cheeks. your face and neck warmed red. mortified that potter knows the secret kiss shared between you and your friend, currently pulling at your robes.

it was both of your first kiss, deciding to just get it all over with, so you both can know what was so special about it.

it wasn’t much.

it felt soft, and quick.

nothing at all sparkling or romantic, like others said.

“alert your parents immediately, else you might be kicked out. and i’ve grown quite fond of the two of you, you know.” potter nodded at you, looking as if he pitied you both before crossing his arms as he strutted away.

you look at remy fully now. he was standing too close and still holding unto your robes like a lifeline.

“did you really have to tell potter of all people what we did?” you scoff, crossing your arms and tapping your feet like how your mother used to do it when she was cross with something.

he seemed to shrink into himself more, “i’m sorry, he said he saw it, and pestered me into confessing.” he bit his lips to bleed. “i didn’t know you were gonna be in trouble.” he sniffled.

and you immediately cooled, reaching forward and pulling at his chin to stop his assault and softly rubbing at his bleeding lips with your robes with another click of your tongue.

“it’s fine, he already saw, nothing else we can do.”

“so, what are we going to do now?” he asked softly, he looked at you, eyes filling with worry and sadness. “what if you are? we’ll get in trouble, won’t we?”

you bring down your arm now, before breathing out deeply.

you try to think of why it wouldn’t be true, but the tone of his voice was making you worry endlessly too.

even though you know it wasn’t all true, because your sister kissed her husband plenty of times in the house and they don’t have kids.

and you were about to point that out to him. to reassure your ever warm, too soft friend, that james potter was full of it and to relax.

but remy stood straighter, his cold hands gripping yours tightly, so much that it hurts. now standing a bit taller than you. pink lips pulled into a straight line and eyes looking straight at you. soft brown eyes no longer holding any worry, instead with resolute determination.

“marry me,” he said, “i promise to look after our children and work.” he nodded at you, as if urging you to say yes. to trust him.

a look entirely different from what you remembered from way before, yet feeling all the same regardless.

the reason of proposal was ridiculous in of itself that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’m not pregnant you dolt, pregnancy doesn’t work that way. i assure you.” rolling your eyes in amusement. “so don’t you go proposing like some weirdo.”

he stopped for a second, as if startled as he kept looking at you. before leaving a shaky sigh, head hanging low.

“okay,” his lips in a wobbly smile, looking weird. “good.”

third time at 17 years old;

sirius had managed to sneak in a case of firewhisky in one winning after-party in the common room.

it was safe to assume that everyone was positively sloshed. if judging from the slurring exclaims from james and a red face peter barely able to stand and sirius laughing maniacally at something marlene has said to him.

and remus being the self-appointed responsible one, had taken it upon himself to maintain sobriety the entire night. to look after the three of them in the aftermath.

resolutely sitting next to you the whole night, engaging in a missed conversation about gossip and literature.

“still feeling confident you can handle these three blokes up in your room?”

he grimaced, already rubbing his temples, probably from regret and the james’ incessant off-key singing. “i don’t really have much of a choice now, do i?”

you laugh easy, “with the way james is attempting to strip, i think not. you did volunteer, taking responsibility and what not.”

he sighed rather audibly, over the soft music of the party that was already dying down. most of the attendees already settling into their respective rooms.

and you look at remus, slumped into the chair, and laugh to yourself.

still so helpless, you think. you guess you had to step up again. pick up the slack a little bit.

you try to trick yourself into thinking you were tired and miffed about it, but you find you quite like feeling needed. especially by remus.

whom of which seems to be way into being responsible now and being a proper grown up. one that follows curfew and plans his day.

he barely looks at you for help anymore.

he always has an answer to questions now.

as the boys depend on him for being the responsible one in their little foursome.

off to late night adventures and pranks. no longer the crying, awe struck, nervous kid you grew up knowing. makes you feel kind of sad.

“alright then,” you exhaled, “i’ll lend you a hand for dealing with the demons.” you stood up whilst downing your drink, a sweet concoction by dorcas.

he looks up at you, eyes looking bloodshot and tired. he softly shook his head, “you don’t have to.”

you frown, clicking your tongue and placing a hand on each of your hips. “i said i’ll do it, so i’m going to. now stand up and let’s go.”

he looked at you just a second longer and sighs looking away, a soft smile etched on lips before looking at you again. looking won over.

standing up, dusting the invisible dirt on his trousers and nodding.

he towers over you now, seemingly out of no where.

you realize this as your neck strain looking up at him. as you gather the rowdy, intoxicated boys back to the dorms.

something sirius was extremely grateful for and the others echoed.

“thanks for— for taking care of me darling,” sirius breathed hot into your face before pecking you on the cheek.

“yes, you’re very welcome,” you hummed amused, tucking his covers into his sides, making sure he couldn’t move out of bed.

sirius giggles, “it feels like being tucked in by a mum,” before looking at you serious, eyes wide and looking more sober than he actually was, as if realizing something.

“you’re the mum in the group!” he exclaimed.

“im the what?”

james overhears this and exclaims his agreements.

“oh you are! you’re the perfect mum size!” james said.

you turn to him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask hotly.

“you’re very caring and mum-like, and you scold like a mum too, sometimes you even talk like one,” peter mumbled.

you look at remus, giving you an amused look, lips stretching like close to laughing.

“this is going to be the last time i’m helping you lot, if you call me mum one more time.” you threatened lightly.

sirius hums loud like he doesn’t believe you, “it’s not all bad, not like you’re gonna be a single-mum. remus is gonna be the dad after all.” he said like he was so sure.

and james, of ourse, echoed his agreements.

“obviously,” james tutted from his bed, tucked in tight by remus.

“yesh,” peter slurred, “he looks like—remus looks like he knows how to read maps.” he breathes out, like on a verge of sleeping.

james gasps, “he does! remus is a map reading dad, nothing has made more sense than this moment right here. you are meant to hold a map in your hands remus, you’re a daddy compass.”

remus looks perturbed, eyebrows scrunched and lips into a tight frown. he shakes his head then, before closing each of their curtains, not even bothering to justify james’ quip. “night lads,”

“night dad,” sirius teased from his bed, before shuddering excessively, “never thought i’d say that again.”

you snort out a laugh before you could help it. “good night everyone.”

you look at remus, and see him gesture to come outside.

quietly walking out of their room and closing the door behind you.

“come, i’ll walk you out.” grabbing your hand softly and pulling you down the corridor to the stairs. dropping his hold just as quick as if he hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place.

“sorry about the lads, the lack of filter is unfortunately not the effect of alcohol but is just them naturally.”

you chuckle softly, rubbing your tingling palms on the side of your skirt.

as if you didn’t know that already. those three have already been a staple into your everyday life for majority of the year. they, quite frankly, grow on you like some persistent vine on a house.

“it’s fine, it was quite tame compared to the usual rubbish they spew most of the time.”

remus looks at you, barely able to hide the smirk emerging from his lips.

“don’t tell me you liked them calling you mum?” the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

you lightly push on his shoulders. “don’t be disgusting, being called their mum is weird enough. and you implying i like it just makes it even weirder.”

“well imagine being called daddy compass by one of your mates, it’s gonna be hard looking at james tomorrow morning i’ll tell you that.”

you laugh excessively loud at this, before covering your mouth sheepish as you remember the time.

you look over at him, up and down as if assessing, “but you do look like a dad who knows how to read maps. wears khakis all the time and has a moustache.”

he rolls his eyes at you, as you grin in mirth, “well does that mean you’ll do me the honours of marrying me to avoid the life of a single parent to three demon boys?”

you laugh, shaking your head, “not exactly selling your case to me, are you?”

“won’t you reconsider though?” he moans, like he’s pained but you see the glint in his eyes even in the dark dorm room stairs. “it is after all for the children.”

you know he’s joking, hardly a night of partying counts as anything like a proper proposal.

but your brain can’t help but supply the thought that he looked quite fuller now. arms looking sturdier, and harder. he is acting more responsibly, all the professors trust him.

he was almost like a proper grown up now.

and you remember the echo of the ultimate rule in your childhood.

you shake your head, and an easy smile spread on your lips. stopping at the stairs for your dorms, “over my dead body,”

and he laughs, the sound echoing in the trashed common room, “well alright, good night, beautiful.”

“good night remus.”

fourth time at 19 years old;

you knew james was serious about lily when you lot had graduated from hogwarts. but you didn’t know the extent of the seriousness until he said this after one of the order meetings.

“i’m going to ask lily to marry me.”

james had said this with such conviction, so sure and full of affection. you can’t help but feel awed.

he suddenly seemed mature. not like the doofus you’ve come to know and consider a confidant through these trying times.

but a proper adult, one who does taxes and knows how to set up an appointment for medical check ups and fights in wars.

james suddenly feeling very far away from you.

you feel remus shift, his leg pressing into yours. you look at him to see what he wanted, but saw he was just looking at james, eyes set hard.

you shook yourself out of your stupor. standing up abruptly, not meaning to leave the familiar press of remus’ leg against your thigh.

“that’s—that’s great news james, i would have never guessed you—oh you’re all grown up!” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and him wrapping his around your middle with a giddy smile.

“thank you, mum.” he laughs, the on going joke still running strong. you squeeze him extra tight and pinching his arm for extra measure. before pulling away. “i never thought you had it in you to propose. i’d have half a mind to propose to lily on your behalf.”

he laughs, a bashful blush resting on his cheeks. “i figured, why wait, you know? tomorrow isn’t promised, and—i think spending every moment together is we all can do. i don’t want to die with regrets. i love her.”

you breathed in deep.

sirius coming forward too and slapping james in the back before giving his own congratulations and then peter and then remus too.

you were happy for them both, truly, having found one another even in these difficult times was awe-inspiring.

and then you start to wretchedly wonder if you could have that too. if only the circumstances were a bit different. would you have been given enough time to find another? enough to love? enough to marry?

you find your gaze sliding to remus, how strained his smile looked and wonder if he’s thinking the same.

he looked back at you, as he always does, and smiles gently. less strained now. like he was resigned.

you try to imagine if the circumstances were a bit different and he would find someone to love. someone to marry.

you feel your navel, coil in a bundle of nerves. a tension in your neck making you almost irate.

he gestured for you to follow him out.

like being compelled and weak, you follow without a question.

the night air was chilly, and feeling some sort of static on your skin, like building an unnerving suspense.

remus just sat and gestured for you to sit beside him.

the seat was cold, and you sat rigid like ice.

it’s been a while since you’ve last sat with remus like this. the order keeping all your hours occupied, mission after mission. surviving by the skin of your teeth.

all the world has gone fucked now, it didn’t feel quite real some time—like some sort of veil has just been pulled over your head making you see things clearer for the horrors awaiting your fates.

and in your mind loud with noise and worry, you almost didn’t hear him.

“why don’t we do it?”

“what?” you turn to him, hoping his face show an inkling, a clue as to what he had said.

he looked at you then, eyes still so warm even with the atrocities he’s faced and eyes still so bright in the night. a twinkling light reflecting in his eyes making him look younger. prettier.

“why don’t we get married?”

you lean back slightly in shock, “what?” you repeated, because you didn’t understand. this came so suddenly, words weirdly familiar but the intent wildly different than from all the others you’ve heard before.

you looked at his eyes. searching, still, for a clue or something that might make sense because what?

he laughs, the warm, soft sounding one you can barely hear. but it was just the two of you outside and it was quiet and you were sitting so close, so you hear it—loud and clear. the sound making you feel warm. “is that so crazy?”

he looked like a boy, happy and hopeful. his leg was pressing into your thighs again. the pressure grounding you.

his hands fidgeting deep within his pockets.

“i think we work well enough.” he added, with a small smile.

you feel something in your heart stutter, “work well enough,” you repeated. “glad to know i reach your standards for a bride, sir lupin.” you almost scoff. masking the bitter simmer of disappointment of his reason. and the coiling nerves still tightly wound in your navel, feeling heavy, making it harder to breathe.

he shrugs, “well you know, a lot of applicants have been killing themselves to be chosen. i reckon you ought to feel honoured.” he grinned over to you, still joking.

you rolled your eyes, “of course,”

“yeah?” he perked up, suddenly sitting straighter, his knees bumping into yours in his haste to look at you properly. “you want to?” he seemed shocked, overtly so, that it makes you laugh. a heat blooming on your face at his apparent willingness to marry you before shaking your head to avoid any confusion.

“no to the proposal but yes, that it is indeed an honour.”

he deflates, “ah,” he said softly, before laughing like he was embarrassed. “i just—i kept thinking what james said, about tomorrow not being promised—and, i, well i thought—“ he clears his throat before continuing. “i thought i might see what the fuss was about,”

you nodded, “‘m afraid marriage isn’t so simple. you have to love one another for a start.” you added somewhat bitterly, looking away.

“so you keep reminding me,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

fifth time at 38 years old;

you feel as if your life was reaching a crescendo.

the night glooming, brooding like the sky knows to colour it of fear and nerves.

it was going to come down to tonight, so it seems. whether we win or we lose. the end or the beginning. all those families we’ve lost and the families we’ve created. all our hopes and dreams sacrificed into this one night.

“you feeling alright?” remus asked to your left.

the glooming sky somehow illuminating his face all the same.

“as alright as anyone can be when facing a dark wizard.” you smirked, shrugging.

he laughs, still sounding so warm and soft.

you feel his fingers brush yours. you had half a mind to remind him to get ready and hold his wand tight.

you notice how keeps forgetting to do that. opting to hold unto you, just like he did before when he was a child from another time.

he only offers a closed lipped smile, looking at you the same way he has always looked at you. his stare the most familiar thing, it might as well be a part of you.

“i love you.” he breathed. and your heart hammered, your world tilting on its axis. shifting the very fabric of your universe.

and he looked relieved like he couldn’t wait to hold unto it any longer. and then he repeated it. more sure. louder. affectionate. looking straight into you. his brilliant, soft, warm eyes so full.

you wonder when did his gaze start to look at you like that?

and then you see;

his eyes looking as it did when he was five, shining with obvious awe.

his eyes when he was eleven, with resolute determination.

eyes when he was seventeen, glinting with mirth in the dark crevices of the dorms.

the look he gave you when he was nineteen, looking so boyishly happy and hopeful.

and now as he’s thirty-eight, looking at you with so much love, and longing, and pain, and joy.

“when this is all over,” he breathe, “will you marry me?”

so much time has passed by now that you had once thought it was too late for you. too late with him. something you always thought but could never have.

he was now undeniably a man. arms littered with scars and unwavering confidence as he looks at you. but his eyes still glimmer and twinkle all the same.

the undeniable rampage in your chest, your eyes searching for an answer or a clue for what he’s thinking.

“i love you,” he repeats, and gazing at you with that familiar eyes of his.

and you laugh because you found your answer. so you’ll give him his.

“yes.”

extra;

the battle was brutal, bodies piled on top of one another. those too young to know what they even fought for. those for their own ideals. and those caught in cross fires.

but it was over. and the good guys won.

but with so many lost, people thought, how could i possibly cheer?

but there was this type of solace when you’re gone. there was no more pain. all those gone can only do one thing, to let go. at least that’s what harry thinks.

staring down at the family he could’ve had.

your limp cold hand holding remus’ equally cold ones.

he wonders if someone intertwined your hands, or if you simply died holding on to each other. never to let go.

he realized it didn’t really matter. you were both gone. forever, but together.

he thinks of the comforting hugs you’ve given him in the short time you’ve spent with him, and the many stories remus told. and in this fierce pain he wonders if you ever saw the shiny, glinting ring in remus’ dresser hidden away ever since he was eighteen.

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sacrednova · 7 days ago

Text

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 4

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 5 --->

Simon was on his way. The same mysterious, masked man who’d ghosted her texts and made her heart race for weeks was now on his way to pick her up. She clutched her phone, trying to keep calm as her friends, despite barely standing, noticed her sudden panic.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lottie asked, steadying herself by holding onto her arm. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Her eyes darted away as she tried to brush it off. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just… kind of a weird story,” she muttered.

“Oh, hell no,” Alexa cut in, her eyes bright with alcohol and intrigue. “Out with it.”

With a sigh and a helpless shrug, she finally spilled the story, trying to keep her voice steady. “Remember last month? When I said I got a weird Uber ride?”

“Yeah, yeah, with the mask guy,” Lottie chimed in, barely containing a giggle. “Wait—that’s him?!”

“Uh… yeah,” she admitted, cheeks burning. “And when I tried to text him ‘hello’ like a week later, he just… never answered.”

“Girl, and you still have him in your contacts? Under ‘Simon personal uber’?” Alexa teased, snickering.

Her cheeks flushed. “Look, it was just an inside joke with myself! I didn’t think I’d ever need to actually call him again!”

Just then, a truck pulled up to the curb, headlights cutting through the dark street. She glanced over, her stomach doing a flip as she recognized it instantly. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Lottie and Alexa, their grins wide and very tipsy, leaned close. “That’s him?” Lottie whispered, her voice barely containing her glee.

She nodded, feeling like her heart was about to launch out of her chest. “Yep… that’s him.”

Her friends dissolved into giggles, making absolutely no effort to hide it. Alexa poked her side and whispered, “You know, if you’re this flustered already, maybe you should just go for it. I mean, the masked Uber thing is kinda… hot?”

She shot her a glare, her cheeks heating even more. “Oh, my God, shut up!”

As Simon stepped out of his truck, she swallowed hard, wondering if the ground could just swallow her whole instead.

The universe was out to humiliate her, no doubt. Because instead of swallowing her whole, it had spat her out and stomped on her. There he was, standing tall and unreadable under the streetlight—a face mask covering his mouth, a black cap shadowing his eyes, and… a military uniform.

So that’s why he was awake at 5 a.m., she thought, her mind racing. Of course, he’s military. Everything about his stone-cold demeanor made perfect sense now.

“Oh, so you like soldiers now?” Lottie teased, not bothering to whisper.

Her heart dropped as she looked up and met his gaze. His stare was intense, focused directly on her like she was the only person there. And he’d definitely heard Lottie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” she hissed, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Millie, still a giggling mess, squinted up at him and muttered, “Uwber?”

Without missing a beat, Simon looked back down at her and answered, “Apparently.” His tone was deadpan, and she swore she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes behind the mask.

And that was all he said. A quiet, towering presence, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably, all while his gaze stayed locked on her.

God, why was that so hot?

The next thing she knew, her friends were piling into Simon's truck like they owned it. Before she could even process it, they had her shoved into the passenger seat, wedged close to Simon with her heart thumping embarrassingly hard. Her friends, meanwhile, were giggling and whispering like they were at a sleepover, eyes sparkling with tipsy mischief.

And, of course, they had to try making him talk.

Lottie leaned over the seat, resting her chin on her hands with a sly grin. “So… Simon, was it? You’re, like, a real Uber driver, right?”

A long, deadpan silence. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, unamused. “…Sure.”

Alexa chimed in, barely holding back her laughter. “Do you always drive around with the hat and mask? Gotta say, it’s got… a certain vibe.”

He said nothing, just kept his hands on the wheel, looking painfully unfazed.

But then, of course, Millie had to deliver the ultimate question. In her slightly slurred, fearless way, she looked over at him and asked, “Aaaand wha’? Wha’s your type, Ssssimon?”

She wanted to die. She glared daggers at Millie, mouthing a very obvious FUCK YOU in all caps, while Millie only giggled harder.

A few seconds of silence stretched like a lifetime. But then, to her shock, he finally spoke.

“Reckless,” he said, eyes flicking just briefly in her direction.

The word hung in the air, heavy and almost taunting. Her cheeks flamed up, her mind spiraling. He went right back to focusing on the road, unreadable and quiet as ever.

Oh, God.

She was not the shy type. Never had been. But right then, with Simon’s gaze cutting through her, she felt her face heat up as if she’d never flirted a day in her life.

“Oh, you did the impossible, Simon! You made her blush!” Millie slurred from the back, grinning like she’d just won the lottery.

Millie, I swear, you’re dead to me.

Simon, to her surprise, looked even less amused, but he kept driving, eyes focused straight ahead, not saying another word. They went on like that, him in his silent concentration and her doing everything to avoid his stare, as he dropped Millie off first. Millie stumbled out with a wave and a sloppy “G’bye, Uber,” giving Simon a wink that he definitely ignored.

Next was Alexa, who leaned in for an exaggerated, tipsy goodbye, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best,” she whispered, giggling as she stumbled out into the night.

Finally, it was just her, Simon, and Lottie, who hadn’t said a word in a while. The quiet was odd, especially for Lottie, who was never one to stay silent long.

Then Simon’s voice broke through the silence, calm but resolute. “She’s asleep.”

“What—oh. Right.” She twisted around and saw Lottie, slumped against the window, practically drooling.

“…You need to wake her up,” he said, his voice that same low, unamused rumble.

She blinked at him, feigning ignorance. “What?”

He exhaled, sounding downright annoyed. “Wake her up. Your friend. She’s asleep. Drooling on my window.”

Oh, for the love of— “Right, okay,” she mumbled, reaching back to shake Lottie awake.

Lottie stumbled out, muttering a half-asleep goodbye and thanks, barely making it through her front door. As she disappeared into her house, the truck lurched back into motion, and that dreaded silence settled in like an unwelcome guest.

Her heart pounded as she tried to string together any words that might cut through the heavy air. What do I say now? Do I thank him? Apologize? Do I tell him I’m sorry a thousand times?

She swallowed hard and started. “I… I didn’t know she called you. I thought she was calling an actual Uber.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice flat, eyes locked on the road.

“Like, honestly, it’s my fault anyway because… well, I still had you saved as ‘Simon Personal Uber.’ I know it’s stupid, I just… forgot to change it.” She bit her lip, wanting to say more, to explain away the joke. “I didn’t think we’d even talk again, so…”

He didn’t respond. She fidgeted, regretting every word coming out of her mouth.

“Because, you know… you ghosted me,” she finished, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

She winced, instantly regretting it as the weight of his stare fell upon her, cutting through the dim light of the street. It was that same steady, unreadable stare she’d seen before, and now, with the truck idling at a red light, he turned to face her fully, eyes piercing and unyielding.

“I ghosted what?”

She froze, feeling her pulse quicken under his stare. Oh, God. Did I really just say that?

A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “You… ghosted me?” Her voice barely a whisper, more question than statement now.

He held her gaze, the faintest glint of something amused flickering in his eyes. The light turned green, but he didn’t move.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable. “Guess that’s a new one for my book.”

A smile tugged at her lips, barely there, but real. And somehow, in the quiet that followed, she found herself feeling strangely comfortable.

The moment he started to drive again, she was laser-focused on her phone, her fingers tapping furiously as she composed a text to Millie:

She didn’t expect a reply since Millie was likely face-planted in her pillow, but that didn’t stop her. She spammed away.

She chuckled, shaking her head at her ridiculousness, but God, it felt good to let it out. A giddy, nervous energy buzzed through her.

And then, the truck rolled to a stop in front of her house. She glanced over at him, feeling his eyes on her, heavy and unwavering. That silence settled over them again, but this time, she knew she had to break it.

“I’m paying you,” she declared, trying to sound firm.

“No.”

She huffed, searching for a reason. “…Please?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“The second time sounded like a question, love.”

Her heart skipped at that one word. Love? Had he actually just called her that? She could feel her cheeks heat up. What was happening to her? Since when did she get so flustered over a single word?

She fumbled, desperate to say something that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous. “Just… let me… just the gas?”

He only shook his head, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, anything to keep this moment alive. She wanted to laugh it off, maybe tease him back, but nothing came. She was too focused on those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her, keeping her pinned in place.

Finally, she managed to blurt out, “I texted you.”

“Hm?” He looked at her, just slightly tilting his head.

“I texted you. You didn’t answer.” Her voice was softer now, almost apologetic. She wasn’t sure why she was even bringing this up; it wasn’t like she had any right to feel hurt over it. They’d barely even spoken, but still, it had stung.

“Wanted to talk about something?” he asked, his voice steady and unbothered.

She laughed nervously. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like texts.”

Her face fell. “…Should I have called you?”

“No.”

Damn. That one stung even more than she expected. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed for pushing the conversation this far. Idiot, idiot, she thought, mentally kicking herself as she opened the door to step out. “Right… shit, sorry.”

She turned, flashing him a weak smile as she stepped onto the curb. “Thanks. Sorry. Bye!” Her voice was high-pitched, her nerves showing through as she scrambled away. She felt a sting in her chest, like the silence he left her in had weight, pressing down on her.

But then, as she was halfway to her door, she heard him mutter, just loud enough to reach her: “…I like bourbon.”

She froze, turning around to look at him in disbelief. She could barely see his face in the dark truck, but that one line hung in the air, giving her just enough of a lifeline to feel like maybe—just maybe—she hadn’t embarrassed herself completely.

She could hardly contain herself as she watched his truck disappear down the road, and just like that, her phone was out. She juggled it in her hands, struggling to keep hold of it without dropping her keys and everything else she’d somehow managed to carry inside. Her fingers fumbled over the screen, but she didn’t care—she had one thing to say, and she typed it out without overthinking.

As soon as she hit send, she felt that familiar mix of nerves and excitement bubble up. She locked the door, kicked off her shoes, and stumbled through her evening routine, her heartbeat racing more from the message she’d just sent than the drinks she’d had. She’d just settled into bed, sighing as her body finally relaxed, when her phone buzzed.

Her eyes widened, barely believing he’d actually answered, and so quickly. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but the words sank in, full of promise.

A surge of thrill rushed through her, making her grin like an idiot. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, heart pounding.

She held her breath, not sure what he’d say, or if he’d say anything at all. But then, her screen lit up.

She sank back into her pillow, clutching her phone to her chest. That blunt, matter-of-fact reply shouldn’t have made her this giddy, but damn—straightforward men were just so hot.

NOT ME FINISHING MY SHIFT AND POSTING THIS PART EVEN AFTER I SAID I’D POST IT ON MONDAY. I just don’t know the word rest... anyways, love you all, really ♥

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #cod headcanons #fanfic #ghost cod #my writing #ao3 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #x reader #fem reader

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